Finding Home | Blessing Sam
Luck is a funny thing. Some people have it in money, love, or career. And some, not so much.
Me? I have the worst luck catching buses. On the days I’m early, the bus is late. If I’m running, hoping to make it just in time, it arrives a minute too soon.
Still, I run anyway. Call it hope. Call it grit. I call it a habit—actions repeated until they become second nature.
Conversely, when it comes to friendships, I’ve lucked out ridiculously. Some connections unfolded so effortlessly that I can’t even pinpoint how or when they began. Others have clear origin stories, like my university roommate from eleven years ago, whose last name happened to fall alphabetically next to mine.
I’d love to say I earned these friendships, but that would be a lie. I can’t take the credit, (un)fortunately. In a world of eight billion people, I somehow stumbled on individuals who love me—and my deeply sarcastic humour. People who have embraced the inconveniences that come with love, and I, for them. Like the inconvenience of carrying furniture on move-out day. Of sitting through illnesses or unraveling tiny braids strand by strand. Of late-night phone calls when everything felt impossibly heavy. The inconvenience of difficult conversations—probably the hardest inconvenience of all.
These friendships have grown with me—evolving from high school chemistry lessons to master’s thesis discussions; from tentative “I think I like this person” confessions to “RSVP to our wedding” celebrations. Oh, how we’ve grown.
I often catch myself in what I call core memory moments—huddled in a friend’s new apartment, offering moral support. Asking what should go where, munching on the first snack I spot, crumbs everywhere, and talking long into the night.
I feel it in the belly laughs. The kinds that leave tears streaming down our cheeks after an impromptu games night. I think about the tight Sunday hugs, always accompanied by a sing-song “Blessinggg.” The two-hour FaceTime calls across time zones, the elusive “we have gist o” that never quite gets planned for, and the ongoing three-year joke of “when are you getting a car?”, tossed around every time we’re stuck on public transport.
I see it in the small things too. In me holding open the subway doors when there’s a large group because God forbid the train leaves someone behind, and in the beauty of everyday lines we have recited a thousand times over the past five years:
“I’m hungry, is there food in your house?”
“Let’s do something this long weekend.”
“Did you go to the office today?”
“Can I work from your place?”
“Buy something for me from...”
“Pay for our Uber now.”
“Text me when you’re home.”
Somehow, I became the deep talker of the group, and while everyone rolls their eyes and mutters, “You’ve come again, we don’t want,” we always end up shouting passionately about everything, from romance to theology and everything in between. In my friendships, nothing is too trivial to laugh about. Honestly, the more trivial, the more hilarious.
So when I say I lucked out with friendships, I mean it. I could give you a mountain of stories, but you’d need at least a year to hear them all.
It still amazes me that I—someone who doesn’t particularly like people, who is easily drained by the noise of a crowded room—have somehow gathered a fort with friendships. A hilarious, unserious, vibrant fort at that. Because few things are worse than being around people who dim you.
I wouldn’t know, though. I’ve been cackling like a child since I found my tribe. And I know, no matter how many buses I miss, they’ll always make sure I find my way home.
Blessing Sam is an economist and tax consultant, who discovered writing as both an outlet and a means of expression 12 years ago. Though much of her work remains private, her writing is deeply influenced by human experiences, emotions, and faith. She primarily focuses on nonfiction, a passion shaped by her admiration for autobiographies and biographies of real people.
Beyond writing, she finds joy in fashion, engaging conversations, and more recently, baking. You can find her on Twitter (X) and Instagram @bee__vs
Cover Photo by RgStudio