Personal reflection on the social advantages of being an only child

Several more were added in my 30s, amid the whirlwind and isolation of early parenthood. In my 40s, when the same women groaned at the idea of socialising at the school gate, I’d feel happiness at the thought of finding my new people in this unfamiliar next stage of life.

Now in my 50s, I hope there will be more close friendships to come. And I’m optimistic. When I look at the older women around me, I’m struck by the way this skill for connection seems to grow as the decades tick by. Perhaps we know innately its importance, how it helps inoculate us against the isolation and loneliness we’re told are so harmful as we age.

But with those extra years comes nostalgia. I’m as ridiculously sentimental and wistful about old friends as others are about former romantic entanglements. I have regrets about those I lost touch with, or who drifted away.

There is one best friend whose name I frequently Google. My other half when we were in our early teens, we lost touch decades ago, but I’ve never stopped hoping that we find each other again. And while the search engine never comes up with anything new, I know I’ll keep trying.

The Gardens (HQ Books) by Emma Babbington is out now.

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