We joke that were we ever to lose you in a foreign country, we’d know exactly where to look first.
“Excuse me, where’s a good place to get a bowl of noodle soup?”
Remember the time we took you to Chez Nous for your birthday and you insisted the meal was lovely and you were so full you couldn’t eat another bite, and then I caught you boiling a pot of water at one in the morning to make ramen?
Wandering the aisles of Walgreens, you cleared the shelves of lavender soap. Later, you tucked the bars among the folds of freshly laundered towels.
Laugh lines, rippling outward from your eyes, though I can’t always tell where they end and the worry wrinkles begin.
Because what’s the fun of all sounding like Merriam-Webster pronunciation guides?
Because you gave up the expectation of slipping seamlessly in and out of conversation so that we could show the College Board we know the difference between a cabal and a coterie.
And you’re still my favorite Taboo partner.
A rib-squeezing, leaves no question how much she loves you kind of hug.