MEET CAROL

My oldest friend is 12 days older than me. Those were the only 12 days that we weren’t in each other’s lives. Carol Reinert grew up just down the street from me in a neighborhood tucked back in a quiet, forest-y area of Minnesota. Our moms were friends in the neighborhood, and we were introduced to each other as babies. My earliest memory of her was in Kindergarten. She had a terrible speech impediment and she couldn’t pronounce her “R’s.” This was highly unfortunate for a girl named “Carol Reinert,” so I took it upon myself to teach her. I practiced with her every day at recess and, although I thought I was helping in the moment, I think my “lessons” of me repeatedly telling her to say “rabbit,” “Rudolph,” or “rodeo” may have been in vain. Luckily she had a pretty good speech therapist, so she can now accurately pronounce her name.

Carol is an only child and I have three brothers. This was a perfect arrangement for our childhood. When I was seeking an escape from my rowdy brothers, I would hop on my bike and head down the street to Carol’s quiet, tidy house. When Carol needed a burst of excitement and chaos, or an escape from her parents, she could be found at my house. We balanced each other out then, and we still do today.

Carol and I have seen every single chapter of each other’s lives. My favorite chapter that we lived out was the long, lazy summers spent at summer camp. We went to camp together every year from the time we were 11 to when we were 16. We went from being campers to being counselors. We worked in the Boathouse and in the kitchen and on the beach. We made some amazing friends and memories, and many of those experiences helped shape us into who we are today. Those were some of the happiest, most carefree days of my life, and Carol was part of what made it that way.

We have also experienced some of our hardest hours together. We held each other in the halls of our high school when learning that a friend of ours took his own life. We cried together when we each encountered our own experiences with depression and anxiety. Through every fight with a parent, or loss of a loved one, Carol was the one who I relied on. I’d drive two minutes to her house, she’d hop in the car, and we’d drive around our hometown, lost in conversation with the latest Frank Ocean track playing in the background.

I can quite confidently say that my friendship with Carol set a precedent for the rest of the friendships in my life. She has been a good and loyal friend to me for the past 20 years, and she has set the bar high. Carol and I come from practically the same background. We grew up on the same street, attended the same schools and even worked at the same place in high school. However, our lives could not look more different in this season of our lives.

Today, Carol is living out of her car. On purpose. This year, she decided to do a solo cross-country roadtrip instead of going back to school. This is something she has always wanted to do. She is a free-spirited, independent person and she can do anything she puts her mind to. She’s living out a very crucial chapter of her life, full of self-discovery and creation. I am proud of her for it.

I attempted to interview her via FaceTime, but she had poor service in the rural Montana town that she was driving through. Instead, our interview took place over text. I first asked her what the greatest lesson she’s learning in this season is. Carol responded that what she’s learning the most right now is how to find joy in simple things. On the road, she is not tied down to any schedule. She doesn’t have any real obligations. She truly just has herself and the experiences that she chooses to seek out. She’s learning how to be happy with just herself, for only herself. “It’s been a pretty liberating experience,” she texted me. “Everything I need in life, I already have within myself.”

Obviously, such isolation is not always easy. I asked her what the biggest challenge has been throughout her experience so far. “My greatest struggle right now is feeling like I’m not doing enough because I’m not working and I’m not in school.” Carol spoke about how she’s torn between the desire to conform to societal expectations and the desire to do what she truly wants to do. “My goals in life right now are very different than the goals that I was previously taught to value. It’s a challenge to continuously reaffirm myself that I am still learning and growing, even if it’s not in the traditional sense.”

My final question for Carol was about our friendship. I asked her if there are any lessons she feels she’s learned through our lived experiences together. She replied, “there are more lessons than I can count. Some of my best qualities are things that I learned from you. Although we are at incredibly different parts in our lives, I have never once questioned my ability or desire to connect with you. You taught me that love can be shown in many ways, to many people, in all different kinds of situations.”

Carol inspires me in my own life. I am inspired by her courage, her honesty, and her desire to become exactly who she’s meant to be. I have never met someone who is quite like Carol. Her unique view of the world consistently pushes me to reconsider my own perspectives. She helps make me a better person, just by being present in my life. I am forever grateful that, by complete fate, we were born to parents that lived just down the street from each other. There’s no guarantee that our lives will ever be that closely aligned again. In fact, I have a feeling that life will take us each to completely new and unexplored places. But no matter where we live, even if we’re oceans apart, Carol will always be my own reminder of home. And for that, I am lucky.