(The only picture I have of the two of us. We don't even look like we know each other well. This is totally ridiculous and must be remedied.)
Somehow, this says most of it:
"Thank you for the books you sent which connect
quite specifically to everything I have been thinking of
for the last 12 years."
(Naomi Shihab Nye doesn't come between us as much as she calls it like it is
and then leaves us to talk and live it out.)
You have given me bobby pins that fit this description.
I have to tell you, I live my life so it's more like yours.
is only the first thing. You'll notice, it's gold. Not unlike your curtains.
The dishes, the lovely boxes of matches, the yellow gold earrings--
these are things
But also, the way you read your scriptures in your bed in the mornings.
The way you make events out of Wednesdays.
"I'm going to lunch with Samantha
and then to the mall. I think I'll leave work at 3, 3:30. Bye!"
Then you'd come home later than usual
and from the temple.
The way you finger the stereo while you're driving, flipping confidently
through all six CDs. Or thousand. However many you're listening to right now.
I always wanted your long fingers.
(However, I do not plan to begin changing lanes in the middle of intersections without signaling. This is thrilling
but I am risk averse.
I am, after all, a lawyer.)
And the way you love the Word. And the women around you.
And the way you make goals
writing them in big letters on your mirror.
You do not mention them to us
but you leave them there.
And I see them when I come in to borrow your jewelry
when you are not home.
(And the markered note that said, "Please ask before you borrow jewelry. Thank you!")
You are always up for a talk on a bed, for a cuddle, for a tea party, for good pancakes, and lemon curd.
These are the concrete details that make life well lived.
This is not just the English teacher in me speaking.
This is the observer, the roommate,
the one who would watch you from across the chapel
and wish you were walking down the aisle
in your gold heels and herringbone skirt
The one who is glad we share hair color so sometimes people mistake me for you, or say,
"Man, you looked like KT just now. You guys could be sisters."
At some point, it might sound to the world
like I've stopped talking about you
but listen close.