They don’t know how amazing they are--five people at the same little company for most of their adult lives. The youngest in his 30s has been there ten years--the oldest in his seventies has been around past memory--he was operating a fork lift this morning. The three women--one has gone from secretary at age 19 about 40 years ago to owner. They show up day after day--see the same faces, the same industrial building, essentially the same work with commercial hardware and door frames. They congregate during quiet moments in the one central space with a window. They know each other’s nephews and daughters and sons who have shown up for summer work over the years. They’ve survived slow times when there had to be layoffs, only to return when times improved. Their work relationship has outlasted spouses. Has seen each other through deaths, major illnesses and heartbreak. The women look crisp and take care of their appearance--on what might be the 3768th day at this office. I’ve never been witness to any true bickering or meanness; although they’re plenty human, and it must happen at times, it’s not their customary way of interacting.

I admire and wonder at their endurance and what feeds them, what maintains the deep connection. In some places it might be inertia--but in this office, I’m thinking it’s a form of love.