I met Grace on the kind of day that feels like it’s been plucked from the opening of a rom-com—clear skies, golden light glinting off the harbor, and me, disgruntled and nursing a disposition as salty as the Atlantic. I was waiting in line at a coffee shop, distracted by a deadline I had no hope of meeting. Grace breezed in wearing a scarf the color of a summer sunset and ordered a coffee with the kind of confidence reserved for fictional French girls and people who definitely drink eight glasses of water a day.

When she overheard my muttered comment about the absurdity of paying $6 for a cappuccino, she laughed—a full-bodied, unapologetic laugh that startled me out of my spiral. “Maybe it’s just overpriced optimism,” she said, flashing a conspiratorial grin. That one sentence set the tone for the kind of friendship that changes the whole trajectory of your life.

Setting Sail in a New Direction

If friendships were mapped like one of those 18th-century atlases I used to pore over, Grace would be the gust of wind that blew my ship off course—but in the best way possible. Up until then, my life felt like a series of overly prudential decisions, each dictated by an invisible list I thought I had to follow: Go to an Ivy League school. Land a respectable job. Write historical novels that New England book clubs might politely applaud. And while I’ve always loved the quiet stretch of a Nantucket shoreline, my whole world was starting to feel like a beige sweater—safe and comfortable but utterly devoid of flair.

Grace, a Boston transplant temporarily based on the island for work, sized me up on day three of our budding friendship. “Your problem,” she said, sipping her overpriced optimism, “is that you take yourself way too seriously. You’re like Mr. Darcy if Mr. Darcy had a maritime blog. You need to lighten up, Wentworth.”

Her words stung a little—she had the audacity to be both correct and hilarious about it—but they also lit a fire. Grace didn’t just nudge me out of my cocoon; she hurled me into a kaleidoscope of possibilities I never would have considered on my own.

The Art of Being Unapologetically You

One of the most transformational things Grace ever taught me was the power of authenticity. And no, not the Instagram variety where “authenticity” equates to posting a filter-free photo of your avocado toast. I’m talking about the kind of authenticity that comes from embracing your quirks and refusing to apologize for the parts of yourself you think are “too much” or “not enough.”

For me, that lesson came during a disastrous book-signing event at a small Nantucket bookstore. Grace came along for moral support, though I suspected she was mostly there to make fun of my nervous energy. As I awkwardly fumbled through conversations with readers, I felt the familiar pang of imposter syndrome creeping in. Despite the event’s modest attendance, I couldn't shake the feeling that I didn’t belong in the same room as the writers I admired.

Afterward, Grace dragged me to a nearby dock and plopped down, feet swinging above the water. “You’re so worried about what people think of you,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “But don’t you see? Nobody else can tell these stories the way you do. People aren’t here because they think you’re some perfect, untouchable Hemingway—they’re here because they want to connect with you. The real you. So stop hiding behind all that self-doubt and just… show up.”

That advice became my north star, not just in writing but in every facet of my life. Whether I’m penning a particularly vulnerable scene or opening up in a relationship, Grace’s words remind me to lean into who I am rather than who I think I should be.

Friendship Lessons That Double as Life Lessons

Grace’s impact on my life didn’t just make me a better writer—it made me a better person. Here are a few lessons I learned from her that might just change your perspective:

  • Call Yourself Out on Your Own BS
    Grace had a knack for pointing out my self-sabotaging tendencies with a mixture of humor and genuine concern. We all need that friend who carefully but firmly holds up a mirror and says, “Hey, maybe it’s you.” Own your mistakes, and be willing to grow from them.

  • Laugh Your Way Through the Tough Stuff
    One evening, after a particularly cringeworthy Bumble date, I was wallowing in embarrassment over wine and takeout. Grace listened to my tale of woe (a play-by-play of me knocking over a glass of red wine onto myself), then declared, “That’s not a disaster—it’s a scene from the Netflix rom-com of your life. Just wait until you meet someone who loves that about you.” Her ability to find joy in life’s messy moments reframed the way I approached stressful situations.

  • Be Bold Enough to Take Risks
    Grace was never reckless, but she also didn’t let fear dictate her choices. Watching her leave a stable corporate job to teach creative writing was the push I needed to loosen my own grip on what “success” should look like. Every meaningful change I’ve made since meeting her—whether it’s pursuing a new creative project or traveling solo for the first time—has been because she showed me that progress doesn’t happen in your comfort zone.

A Friendship Legacy

Grace moved back to Boston two years ago, and while we still exchange texts rife with semi-obscure literary puns and dating advice, it’s not the same as having her here in person. But her influence remains ingrained in the little decisions I make daily.

When I’m stuck writing a particularly frustrating passage, I’ll picture her flinging my draft across the room and replacing my brooding prose with something wittier. When I feel anxious about putting myself out there, whether it’s with a new book or a new relationship, I can hear her voice in my ear saying, “Give yourself some credit, would you?”

If there’s a lesson I hope readers take from my friendship with Grace, it’s this: The people who matter most are the ones who make you better without asking you to change who you are. They’re the ones who remind you what it means to truly show up in your own life.

A Gracious Goodbye

As I sit on this very dock where Grace first delivered her impromptu pep talk, I realize how rare it is to meet someone who can pull you out of your own narrative and nudge you toward something bigger. Grace taught me how to embrace life as if it’s one of those unpredictable, windswept Nantucket days—messy, beautiful, and uniquely my own.

So here’s to the friendships that subtly, inexorably change us. The ones that coax us out of our safe little shells. And the ones that, if we’re lucky, leave us braver than they found us.

Now, go text your own Grace. Preferably with an emoji she might roll her eyes at.