Friends who’ve known you for fifteen years remember versions of you that you forgot. Keep them close; they’re your archive.

Someone who met you in third grade is holding footage you no longer have. They remember what made you laugh before you decided what should, and what you were brave about before you learned to be careful. That record is useful rather than just sweet, because it shows a version of you that existed before the pressure did. Lose those people and you lose the only copy.

Message one of them this week. Ask what you were like at nine, and let the answer surprise you instead of arguing with it.