Eight Words to Say to a Friend

Last summer, when my family from California arrived in Cambridge, England, on vacation, extremely jet-lagged and completely exhausted, I ran into an old friend at the cluster of university buildings where we would be staying for the next month. My daughter and I were taking a walk just to stay awake before it got dark when Shelley came out of her apartment, with a big smile on her face, to greet us with open arms.

She and I hugged and chatted briefly (my family had spent half a year in the city the year before, so we had grown closer) and then she asked a simple question: What little thing would help you right now?

No: Can I do something for you?

No: How can I help?

Not the terribly generic and useless one: Let me know if you need anything. (Anything???!)

But: What little thing would help you right now?

Something about its specificity, its smallness, was a revelation.

If she had phrased the question differently, she would certainly have said, “We don’t need anything! We’re ok! Thank you very much for asking!” But given how direct his question was, I felt that it wasn’t could Make a small request: After 18 hours of traveling and flying on a crowded plane and sitting during the long taxi ride from London, my daughter was now begging for ice cream. But there was no way to get it unless we walked 20 minutes into town, which we weren’t going to do. Then I turned to Shelley and asked: Do you have any type of ice cream in your freezer?

He went back to the kitchen and bought an ice cream sandwich. I can’t begin to tell you how welcome, loved and cared for this made us feel. And I know that made Shelley happy too.

This simple question has been a game changer for me: many times we can’t solve a friend’s big problem and avoid trying. How could you ease a friend’s anguish over her divorce, the death of her parents, and her teenager struggling to fit in? I’m not a therapist! Not even a magician!

But I can (we all can) offer a little comfort by offering something direct and actionable in the moment. Sometimes all a friend needs is a walk. A salad delivery. For you to pick up her kids from school so she can take a nap. A phone call. A delivery of cookies. A shoulder to cry on, just for now. A book delivered to your doorstep. A coffee delivered without a word.

What little thing would help right now? In a time when suffering is everywhere, I have found this approach to be a guiding light. Shelley surely didn’t know that all we would be ordering on that beautiful July afternoon was an ice cream sandwich that had been sitting idle in her freezer. But she met us exactly where we were and made our arrival that much sweeter. We walked back to our empty place feeling not only welcomed but seen. There is no better gift than that.

That’s what I want most in 2025: to find ways to introduce myself to my friends and family in the smallest, most specific way that pleases them. Because it turns out those little things add up to something. In fact, they are everything.

Abigail Rasminsky is a writer and editor living in Los Angeles. He teaches creative writing at the Keck School of Medicine of USC and writes the weekly People + Bodies newsletter. She has also written for Cup of Jo on many topics, including marriage, tweens, and only children.

PS: How to write a condolence note and what are your simplest pleasures?

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