Sometimes, the people who change the course of your life don’t even realize they’re doing it. For me, it wasn’t a partner or a grand romantic gesture that altered my path—it was a friend. A whirlwind of a woman with the kind of laugh that could interrupt traffic and the uncanny ability to read you like an open book. Her name was Valeria, but everyone called her Vale, which, fittingly, also means “okay” in Spanish. And “okay” was exactly what Vale made me feel during one of the most confusing and unsteady periods of my life.

A Café, A Crisis, and a Turning Point

Picture this: Santiago, early November. The jacaranda trees are blooming purple, and it feels like the city itself is exhaling after months of stubborn spring rain. I’m sitting in a café, anxiously stirring a cappuccino while trying not to cry. My five-year relationship had ended the night before, and my heart felt like it had been slammed shut and locked in a dark closet. To make things worse, my ex had tried to end it with one of those vague, meaningless lines you’d find in a mediocre breakup scene: “It’s not you, it’s me—or, maybe it’s us?” A soap opera moment without even the dignity of clarity.

I called Vale in full panic mode. She arrived within 15 minutes, wearing wide-legged jeans and a smile that was somehow both comforting and mischievous. “First of all,” she said, yanking my spoon out of my cappuccino, “stop stirring. This isn’t alchemy.” With that, she reached for her own coffee, took a long sip, and said the words that I swear turned my heartbreak into the foundation of something transformative: “Carmencita—this breakup isn’t the end of your story. It’s the plot twist you needed.”

Somewhere between spoonfuls of tiramisu and her relentless humor, she helped me start reframing my narrative.

Vale, the Reluctant Life Coach

Vale was the sort of person who refused to be labeled as a mentor but somehow ended up mentoring everyone who crossed her path. She approached life like some sort of bohemian strategist, equal parts chaos and wisdom. “Life is like salsa dancing,” she told me during one of our late-night wine-fueled conversations. “You can’t lead if you’re stepping all over yourself. But more importantly, sometimes you just have to let the music take you where it wants.”

Over the months that followed, she became my lifeline. I wasn’t just recovering from that breakup—I was reconstructing myself from scratch. Vale helped me see the beauty in throwing out the old blueprint and embracing the thrill (and occasional terror) of reinvention.

She made me a list once on a napkin during one of our endless talks. The title was “Rules for Rebuilding Post-Heartbreak,” and it was hilariously haphazard but somehow perfect:
- Make bad art. Paint something awful. Write a cringey poem. Who cares? Let it suck, but do it sincerely.
- Say yes to one terrifying thing a week. Apply for a ridiculous job. Go out for karaoke. Call your crush.
- Tango with solitude. This doesn’t mean watching Netflix alone—it means actively getting to know yourself. Ask yourself what makes you laugh when no one’s around.
- Give yourself the things you usually looked for in others. (This one made me cry, by the way.)

Friendship as Mirror

One of the most brilliant things about friendships like ours is their ability to act as both a mirror and a window. Vale reflected parts of me I hadn’t seen clearly in years: my resilience, my curiosity, and even my tendency to hold onto things—relationships, emails, even receipts from five years ago—that no longer served me. She also offered a window into perspectives I couldn’t yet see for myself.

For example, when I hesitated to start dating again, agonizing over whether I “knew who I was,” Vale gave me one of her trademark shrugs. “You don’t need to have all the answers to meet someone,” she said. “It’s not about being perfectly whole—it’s about finding someone who loves you while you’re evolving. That’s real love, Carmencita.”

(Reminder: This is the same woman who once suggested I write fake Yelp reviews for fictional restaurants just “for fun.” She wasn’t always a sage.)

Lessons Worth Keeping

The thing about Vale wasn’t that she “fixed” me. She didn’t play the fairy godmother or wave a wand to set my world right again. She simply showed up, day after day, with her messy hair and kind words and a refusal to let me settle for a version of myself driven by fear. Sometimes, that’s the kind of friend you need—not someone who gives you step-by-step instructions, but someone who hands you a flashlight and reminds you that the path, scary as it might seem, is yours to carve.

Through Vale, I learned some of the most important lessons of my life:
- You can survive heartbreak—and better yet, you can thrive after it.
- Your friendships, not just your romantic relationships, can be transformative love stories.
- You don’t have to feel “ready” to take the next step—just brave enough to try it.

An Ending, Or Something Like It

Vale eventually moved away. First to Buenos Aires (“to collaborate on some underground theater project,” she told me vaguely), then to Amsterdam, where we still occasionally exchange chaotic, emoji-filled texts. But her impact lingers in my life like the sweet, sharp scent of those famed Santiago jacarandas.

When I walk through my neighborhood today, I sometimes think about how different my life would be if I hadn’t met her. I’d probably still be treading water in that five-year relationship, telling myself that mediocrity was “comfortable enough.” I wouldn’t have applied for the job I have now, writing stories about love and connection. I wouldn’t know how to be alone and genuinely enjoy the company I keep (my own).

Friendships like these don’t come along often, but when they do, they rewrite the story of who we are. And for that, I know this much for sure: I’ll be grateful for Vale and her wild laugh for the rest of my life.