Friends—how many of us have them?

I know my wife is my best friend for a few reasons: Because she keeps me alive with delicious, nutritious recipes she learned from Alice Waters. Because she can spend 5,000 straight hours with me without killing me. And, maybe most importantly, because she honestly (and usually immediately) tells me when I’m being an idiot.

Anyone can be a friend—lovers, strangers, family members, coworkers—if they show they care. By baking you cookies. By staying six feet away during a pandemic. By keeping you in check when you done fucked up. By being ready with love and support when you’d just about given up.

But how many of us have them—the ones we can depend on? Facebook says I have 600. Instagram doesn’t pretend: It just calls you a “follower.” Still, I know the real ones are out there.

If you’re a real friend, today I’m thankful for you.