I left my home in sunny La Jolla, California, for New York City at the age of 17. You’re probably thinking: Why would I leave one of the most beautiful vacation destinations in the country for a congested city?

The short answer I tell people is that I moved to New York for school, and that I liked it so much that I stayed, but the long answer is that I needed to move far away from home in order to grow into the 20-something I am now.

Something I’ve learned in the last seven years in my new home is that there are pieces of your hometown that never leave you. This discovery was most recently highlighted two weekends ago, when I attended the aufruf of my dear hometown friend, Moshe Kaplan, whose family now resides in Teaneck after many years in La Jolla.

In the summer going into sixth grade, my family agreed to host a back-to-school barbecue for our (only) Modern Orthodox day school. There was a new family in town who had just moved to the neighborhood from New Jersey. Their oldest, Moshe, was about my age. It took several years for us to really become friends, but Moshe and I eventually became quite close within our tight-knit group. Moshe’s family returned to New Jersey shortly after we graduated high school, and Moshe and I stayed in close contact throughout college and beyond.

Both of us made a concerted effort to keep our friends from La Jolla as close as we could. Part of being a 20-something is learning how to navigate adult friendships, and we really tried hard to maintain them with each other, especially since many of our friends from home had since moved to the east coast. Through graduate schools, job changes and marriages, we’ve managed to stick together.

An analysis of our friend group would indicate that this may be an “out-of-town” phenomenon, since we always only had each other and we’ve bonded more than the average social circle. But as I’ve made more friends from “in-town” communities, I’ve noticed that other childhood friendships have remained as strong as ours. So, what is it that compels us to maintain these connections?

I realized that it’s not about where you’re from; rather, it’s about actively wanting a piece of home with you as you navigate new things in adulthood. Childhood friends are full of funny memories and nostalgia; they can imitate the way your parents speak and they always ask about your siblings. Childhood friends remind you of the community that raised you; they remind you of who you always wanted to be when you grew up. Keeping in touch with them can be very grounding—familiar faces in an unfamiliar world.

We were all thrilled when Moshe announced his engagement to Rosie Maimon, a Seattle sweetheart with a great sense of humor. She fit right in with us, and we excitedly awaited their August wedding. Though I knew I wouldn’t be able to make the ceremony in Seattle with a small baby, I immediately accepted Moshe’s invitation to attend his aufruf in Teaneck, allowing me to at least participate in his simcha in some way.

The aufruf was beautiful. Of course, there’s something emotional about growing up with someone and watching them start their own family. But even more emotional was seeing hometown friends together, sharing childhood stories with each other and reminiscing about California.

As another one of our friends said at Friday night dinner: “When I try to think back to a time before Moshe, I can’t. He’s been a constant in our lives.”

That hit home the most for me—no pun intended. Being friends with people like Moshe has kept a constant in my life. When everything is strange, my childhood friends have reminded me of who I am and where I come from. There is nothing else in my life that keeps me settled when things feel unsettled, and that is invaluable for a 20-something.

So thank you, Moshe, for being a part of that. And mazal tov to you and Rosie, who is now an honorary member of our La Jolla crew.

Channa Fischer is the token 20-something in the office. She lives in Washington Heights.