Back in July, when yourthunderbay.ca launched, I wrote my first article about creating your own magic in life. It wasn’t just a piece about inspiration — it was also an accountability check for myself. A reminder to keep chasing the sparkle, even when life feels like an endless to-do list.
When it was published, I was floored by how many people I love reached out with encouragement and excitement for this new chapter. What I didn’t expect, though, was a message from someone I hadn’t spoken to in years — my very first friend in life, Scotia.
Scotia and I met when we were just two years old at Little Lions Daycare. We were instantly glued at the hip. Where she went, I followed, and where I went, she followed. It didn’t matter that we went to different elementary schools — we found our way back to each other for sleepovers, backyard adventures, and questionable hairstyles. Most of those sleepovers were at her house, where her dazzling mom, Mika (another legendary woman who helped raise me), orchestrated activities that now sit somewhere between core memory and light trauma.
As we grew up and went to different high schools, we drifted — as teenagers do. We had new friends, new interests, new everything. But as adults, our paths would cross again. We’d hug, catch up, cheer for each other’s milestones on Instagram — and then drift again. Until that article.
When it came out, Scotia was one of the first to reach out. Her message made me cry the kind of tears that come right before an ugly laugh. She told me how my words inspired her to reconnect — for real this time. And honestly? I didn’t hesitate for a second.
We started what we affectionately call our “Hot Girl Walk and Goss” — one hour (usually more) every week, where we walk, vent, and deep-dive into life’s chaos. We laughed, we therapized each other (unlicensed, of course), and we showed up. Week after week, we made the time. Somewhere between the walking and the over-sharing, we rediscovered that childhood friendship that never really left — it was just waiting for us to notice it again.
Now, we celebrate milestones together. We show up for each other. We text each other more than we text our moms (sorry, moms). And what’s wild is — it all started with one little leap of courage.
Here’s what Scotia reminded me: magic doesn’t just happen. People make it. You take the risk. You reach out. You say, “Hey, I miss you.” You schedule a walk, or a coffee, or something that sounds silly but turns into everything.
And once you do — you might just find yourself creating magic again with someone who’s been a part of your story all along.
Part Two: The Afterglow
What I didn’t expect from reconnecting with Scotia was how much lighter life would feel after. Somewhere between the chaos of adulting — careers, families, endless errands — we forget that friendship can be a kind of medicine. It’s laughter therapy and emotional CPR rolled into one.
Some weeks, our walks were pure laughter — tears streaming, mascara running, wheezing laughter that made people crossing our path wonder what on earth was so funny at 7 p.m. on a Monday. Other weeks, one of us showed up with puffy eyes and heavy hearts, and the walk became less about “steps” and more about support. Either way, we showed up.
That’s the thing about adult friendship — it doesn’t ask for perfection, it asks for presence. You don’t need to have your life together to reach out. You just need to show up — messy bun, emotional baggage, and all.
Reconnecting with Scotia cracked something open in me. It reminded me that friendship doesn’t expire just because life got busy. Sometimes it’s just been sitting quietly,
waiting for an invitation back into your life.
So here’s your little bit of homework from me (the former ECE in me just can’t help it): reach out to someone. An old friend. A new friend. A love interest (and if that leads to a wedding, dibs on being your MC). The worst that can happen is they say no. The best? You might just find your Scotia.
Because my Scotia? She’s pretty rad.
