Less than two years ago I met a woman with dancing eyes and a captivating voice. Oddly, she thought my eyes danced as well.

She invited me to her home for tea at four o’clock, but more, she encouraged me to help with the making of it. Sometimes she used fresh ginger, sometimes freshly ground cardamom. Patiently, she explained how ginger suited cold weather better, with cardamom reserved for warmer days. We gulped our tea between paragraphs, more interested in words than manners.

As writers, we shared what those who have not endured the often arduous process do not understand. We discussed plots, fears, inconsistencies, what to do next, and quietly, securely, we fell in love. In the spring, I read her story, her great novel, and I understood that the depth of her emotions more than equaled my own.

Recently, I gathered my courage, purchased fresh ginger at the grocery, and invited her for tea. Although I had carefully watched her preparations, she still had tips for me. “Don’t waste the ginger. You’re peeling too much off.”

She taught me her culture, ancient, from the other side of the earth, in snippets of family gossip and personal feelings. Just before Christmas (a holiday she does not celebrate), she returned to her home country to take the ashes of a relative to a special holy place. I kept the e-mail she sent telling me how this pilgrimage gave her “emotional closure on my loved ones.” She said the “ritual was very calming.”

I’m glad I met her later in life, after another friend taught me the true meaning of honesty and respect. My other dear friend helped me to go beyond the passive/ aggressive tendencies I inherited from my family. For example, I thought one should protect a loved one from harsh news. My other dear friend explained (more than once) how disrespectful and dishonest that is. “You are saying you don’t trust the person to be able to handle the news.” I’d never thought of it that way.

From our first meeting my new friend and I valued honesty and respect in our relationship. Whether we spoke on the telephone or in person, in each conversation those values became more sacred to us. She brought a shyer, more hesitant self to the relationship at first, having had no confidant for most of her life. For a time, I served as bull to her lamb. Now that has changed. We have become equals. When I have difficulty expressing something deep inside me, she exhibits a gentle patience, allowing me to stumble as long as I need to in order to bring it to the surface.

Over our short time together, we have accepted that friendship requires investment, and we have willingly, gladly, invested in each other. Love at first sight will not sustain long-term friendship, just as it will not sustain any kind of relationship. Attraction initiates, but respect and honesty keep it whole and fresh.

My friend and I have shared many cups of tea, many afternoons of nonstop talking and listening. We have laughed and cried together. We have learned to celebrate each other’s success, no matter how tiny. But most of all, she provides me with a safe harbor to pull out concepts, emotions, pain and struggle as I develop my fictional characters. I pray I do the same for her.

By chance we found each other and liked what we saw. By choice we have become true friends.