The Art of the Drop-By

I was at the gym this morning talking about “shared locations” on iPhones, Life360, and all the other ways we are now constantly aware of where someone physically is—and yet, I’d argue our day-to-day, in-person interactions continue to dwindle.

We see posts all the time like, “It finally made it out of the group chat!” There are a lot of implications packed into that one sentence. The most obvious, perhaps, is that an event or get-together—long discussed virtually—has finally crossed the threshold into face-to-face reality. But it also suggests how much planning it took to get there.

Which makes sense. People are busy. Clubs, meetings, sports, kids’ games, kids’ appointments, laundry, homework, the Pilates class. It’s hard not to think about how busy we all are—and how that busyness doesn’t necessarily correlate with time spent with friends.

Which brings me to one of my absolute favorite pastimes—the art of the drop-by.

A random pop-over in that nebulous space between work and dinner. A quick visit on a Saturday morning or afternoon. “I saw your car out front and just wanted to say hi.” And I should say—pastime for some. I’m fully aware that I am, depending on who you ask, either guilty of or proudly committed to being a holdout on the benefits of the drop-by.

In person, we talk about things we wouldn’t put in a text. Maybe just the thing that happened in our day. In a drop-by—given or received—we don’t get to make sure the house looks good enough. The house just is. In a drop-by, we make room for visits that might last a few minutes or a few hours. And we’re prepared for the very real possibility of “We’re actually just running out the door—so sorry!” “No problem. See you soon.”

I think the same could be said for work, too—or certainly schools.

When teachers worry about observations or classroom visits, it’s often because those moments are pre-scheduled, pre-planned, and carefully prepared. The house is looking great, we might say. Or at least we’ve done our best to get the dog hair up and the feet off the desk.

But what if the benefit of the drop-by—with a friend, with a neighbor, with a teacher—is simply the opportunity to be? To enjoy time together. To talk about the thing that happened that day. Or the student who’s just not quite “on.”

Now, don’t get me wrong. The drop-by takes time to warm up to. Most of my friends still say I’m the only one who actually does it. But most of them will also tell you how much they enjoy it—or at least how much they don’t hate it.

And maybe that’s the quiet invitation of the drop-by—less perfection, less planning, more presence.