I read a sweet article recently, by Rhaina Cohen for The Atlantic: “What Adults Forget About Friendship.”

It left me nostalgic for the broad vistas I remember from my childhood. When the future appeared wide open, and the present was an adventure. The world beckoned with an invitation to Everything. Before life became mostly about managing a relentless stream of practical considerations and concerns.

It’s not that I’ve lost entirely my access to childlike wonder, but… well, being a grown up just isn’t as sparkly.

I can still pep-talk myself into a sense of possibility when I really need it. I’ll always be an optimist at heart. But I find that I have to dig deeper for it nowadays. It takes more work than it used to. Hope feels like something to fight for or insist upon; it’s defiant. And often, it’s an uphill trudge. Not only do I have to talk myself into it, first I have to talk myself out of a whole lot of demoralized nay-saying, which I’m discovering to be the default setting for middle-age.

I’m longing for play.

The Atlantic article highlights the importance of friendship, and the different ways that friendship tends to occur for children and adults. In childhood, our friends are the be-all-end-all. As adults, usually, we have to be much more intentional about making time for them. And consequently, we experience less of the freedom, spontaneity, and possibility available with them.

Cohen posits that childhood friendships involve a lot more aimless hanging-out. She clarifies that aimless doesn’t mean “pointless,” however; hanging-out is the point. Simply being together is everything. Without an agenda, togetherness tends to be more free and imaginative and creative.

In contrast, when adult friends get together, generally it’s for a particular activity or purpose. Better yet, adult get-togethers try to check a couple of boxes simultaneously — catching up while exercising, commiserating while sharing a meal, project planning while carpooling. Of course there’s nothing wrong with any of these activities, but they are saddled with efficiency and time-management in a way that can’t be as spontaneous. Balancing more responsibilities and demands, adults have to weigh whether or not time spent doing anything is “worth it.”

Child’s play includes imagination and storytelling and world-building, sometimes with secret languages, codes, rituals, and rules that are made-up on the spot. While toys or games may be utilized, these are merely diving boards into improvisational realities. All of a sudden we can be pirates or aliens or cheetahs, and the key to engagement and adventure with each other is simply saying “yes.”

This week, I’m wondering about reclaiming some of that sense of possibility. What if we played more? Just played. Without plans or agendas or purpose, without multi-tasking for productivity. Without problem-solving or strategizing. Not even trying to catch-up on all of our important and significant stuff. Just hanging out and letting our imaginations run wild…

What worlds of possibility might we speak into existence if we got out of our own and each other’s way, and simply said “yes” —?

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My “but” button just got pushed. All my reasons for “no” are on high alert.

First, I don’t have the time or the energy. Second, I’ve got much more important things to do. Third, by the way, in case you hadn’t noticed, the world is a dumpster fire. So we’d better get serious about that before we prioritize playtime. After our problems are solved, and stability is restored, and life gets back to normal, and we’ve saved enough for retirement, and I’ve gotten my steps in, and I’ve stopped the aging process, and we’ve all achieved enlightenment, and, and, and — maybe then we can play together.

Ugh.

Is play a luxury or an essential?

Is friendship something to be squeezed in to our dreary grinds if and only if we can find/make time for it. Or does the attention and intention we give to our togetherness determine both the quantity and quality of our time?

Maybe a world of possibility is step one. Maybe we should play together before anything.

I can’t wait to be with you this Sunday, March 9. Melissa Martinez will be our special musical guest. Don’t forget to set your clocks ahead an hour! XO, Drew

©2025 Drew Groves