Her face appears on my computer screen, illuminated with a smile that transports me 3,627 miles. “Ma cocotte! I miss you!” We squeal and exchange bisous. It’s Sunday afternoon in Philly, Sunday evening in Sablé-sur-Sarthe, and Bérénice and I are having our weekly Skype.

I cherish these moments with my best friend. When we set aside a few minutes together each week, it’s easy to forget that we have not seen each other in person in over a year. On our calls, we switch between French and English, recounting our days. I hear about Bérénice’s recent horse competition and her looming baccalauréat exam. She tells me about her new petit copain, her cheeks turning red. I am once again a part of her life in France.

Two summers ago, I spent a month with Bérénice and her parents. Initially, the language barrier made our conversations difficult, but she was endlessly patient with my broken French. We found ways to communicate and connect without words. We listened to music that we both loved, I made her an American meal of barbecued chicken and baked beans, and she showed me how to ride a horse (despite my equestrian ineptitude). As the days passed, my French improved, and our friendship was strengthened by heartfelt discussions and inside jokes.

When I Skype with Bérénice, I am reminded of the beauty of her spirit and the nuances of her culture. Our form of communication is not perfect, but it fills my heart with joy.