I've remembered you on almost every 4/4 since 1995 and sent birthday wishes your way wherever you are. Whatever you are doing with your life, I hope that it is spectacularly different like everything about you used to be.
Do you remember the shade of lipstick you loved to wear - the one we called "the drug addiction color" ? Well, that's a hard shade to come by these days. Of course it was the perfect shade for you.
I'm not sure when it was that we finally lost touch. It was not one of those slowly fading out of touch deals. More digital than analog as I recall. What else should I have expected from you. I still have some of those cute letters your little sister wrote to me. She must be a grown up woman now. Kids put me in touch with my mortality when I see them after a while.
Soup - in the grand scheme of things you and I are history. We are from the time of 284 processors. The postman delivered mail. Friendship braids were handmade, birthday greetings were made with construction paper and glossy magazine cut-outs. I laughed until tears rolled down my eyes when I read some of your more than usually hilarious letters. Do you remember the one in which you had sagely observed that P was displaying some "broad shouldered friendship" ?
No, don't get your hopes up. We talked about being more than friends once. Rather he talked and I demurred. There was some more talk there after. Nothing that could or did lead to holy matrimony. No, I am not in touch with him. I am sure he has found it well worth his while to move on with his life. I was married, I have a daughter but I'm single again. You know how that works. Please find something side splitting to say about my situation, I am finding it increasingly difficult to see any obvious humor in it.
I'm sending this note out to blogosphere and from there on to where ever it may go acquiring a life of it's own. Still hoping what we will get in touch again some day, one day. Soup, I sure hope you're still boned up in being hysterically funny because I'm going to need to laugh until the neighbors wake up. It's been too many years since I was able to do that. In the interim, have a great birthday and look like a million bucks like you always did.
An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t
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