The river runs and friendships keep flowing — even when years and miles drift between us

Four years ago, I organized a six-day whitewater rafting trip with 17 women. It was the kind of week that fills the soul — long days paddling, shared meals under the stars and laughter echoing off canyon walls, again and again.

We had incredible guides who cooked gourmet food. They also set up our cots and sleeping bags each evening on a new beach on the Salmon River in Idaho. The nights were cool. I remember lying there in my long john-pajamas, looking up at the stars in some of the biggest skies I’ve ever seen. I was snuggled in a sleeping bag and thinking how the cool air felt like it does in the best hotel room, but no hotel had ever offered a night view like that.

The whole trip was one of those rare experiences so perfect that we didn’t believe it was right to try to do it again. I