I got to thinking about friendships recently—not the surface kind, but the ones that quietly (and sometimes loudly) shape who we are. I’m not even sure what sparked it. Maybe it was the long road trips to gigs and the conversations that filled those miles. Maybe it was scrolling through friends’ posts, those little glimpses of everyday chaos. Maybe it was our recent gatherings with my siblings, swapping the same old stories about our mother for the thousandth time and still laughing like we’d never heard them before. Maybe it was all of that.

Whatever it was, it reminded me that friendships—old and new, near and far—have a way of sneaking up on us, changing the way we see the world and, sometimes, ourselves. And family? For better or worse, they do that too—just with more unsolicited advice and louder opinions about your life choices.

There are people who come into your life—sometimes through chance, sometimes because you share a last name—and they bring with them a quiet kind of magic. At first, you don’t even notice it. You’re just living your days, crossing paths, sharing small conversations, thinking it’s nothing out of the ordinary. But then, something shifts. Suddenly, the ordinary feels a little brighter. A quick smile. A random text at just the right moment. A shared laugh over something ridiculous—like an inside joke about bad coffee or that time you all got locked out of the house because someone (who shall remain nameless) forgot the keys.

Life has a way of moving people in and out of our stories. That’s just how it goes—people will always come and go. But every now and then, someone stays in your heart, even if they don’t stay in your life. These rare souls—friends, siblings, cousins, even that uncle who insists he invented the breakfast burrito—leave a mark. They teach you things you didn’t even know you needed to learn—about kindness, about joy, about what it feels like to truly be seen… and, yes, sometimes about which taco truck is absolutely worth the detour.

And years from now, when you look back, it won’t be the grand gestures you remember. It’ll be the small, quiet (and sometimes loud) moments: the way they made you laugh so hard you snorted, the way they showed up with takeout on a terrible day, or even just the comfort of knowing they were out there, silently rooting for you—even if they’d never actually say it out loud. Some people come and go like passing seasons—but those special few? They don’t just change the landscape of your life; they make it a place you actually want to be… even if it’s a little noisy.

Man, I can think of a great many people that fit all of the above. And you know? I don’t think many of them—if any at all—realize they’ve filled that purpose in my life. But then again, maybe they do. Maybe that’s the quiet magic of it: the way they show up, just being themselves, never knowing they’ve made your world a little better.

And for that, I’m grateful.

Much love, mi gente. You know who you are—the quiet magicians, the taco-truck guides, the ones who make this life a little louder, a little messier, and a whole lot better.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a burrito to eat in your honor.

Enjoy this one? You might just be one of us. There’s more waiting at https://xinkblotz.com —stories and reflections that feel like remembering something you forgot you knew.