FRIENDSHIP IS

getting on a 10-hour train right after finals, dashing into the blank cold whiteness of the northeastern snowstorm to hang out for just one day, before they graduated.

waking up at 4 am to chase the sunrise together.

sharing a bowl of phở for breakfast. Then sharing a second breakfast - Hanoi food is just that good.

“your texts keep me alive”.

them knowing how fragile you are while immovably believing in your strength.

crying your heart out on a call, admitting how helpless and hopeless you are.

going to the wood shop at 6 am on a Saturday to hammer and drill, to cry and laugh at our own incompetence.

hand-mixing 300 lbs of concrete together against Cambridge sunset.

sitting by the Charles' bank, chatting the day away.

getting feasted on by mosquitoes at a bus stop in the middle of Bangkok while cursing at each other for getting on the wrong bus.

surprise madeleines after Starbuck visit.

sharing travel photographs and stories.

reading one another's writings.

annexing their studio desk.

proofreading grad app essays and papers, ghost-writing emails, and cover letters.

add-on service: proofreading and ghost-writing break-up letters.

falling asleep on each other's backs during studio reviews.

shouting and waving at their window as you ran past.

heartily singing out of tune on a bench in front of Chinatown gate, our bottoms perched on an infinitesimally thin piece of napkin. It was Chinatown and we were out of cash.

occupying the back row of a sketchy bus, laughing hysterically still, as the bus frantically bumped up and down every second.

riding a tuk-tuk in the scorching Thai sun, scheming how to outwit the driver.

sending hand-written cards with absolutely no significant content, on no special occasions, just because we think of one another.

getting a sore throat from talking excessively for eight hours.

knowing the sound of their footsteps.

video calling and quietly working side by side.

taking them on a motorbike ride.

sliding down the snowy hill on drawing boards stolen from the art department.

running a race together.

unfailingly picking up their call.

being asked "can you eat ..." one thousand times a day because they what a picky b- you are.

going to concerts together.

talking about literature, forwarding writings, and discussing dead writers and artists.

promising to play music at their weddings. (but you couldn't be there in person, so you made their wedding video and you eventually remember what their spouse looks like.)

exchanging books, and not giving back your books even after over a decade.

giving wake-me-up calls at odd hours, such as five twenty-six a.m.

watching terrible movies together to complain about how bad they are.

taking you for a ride when you are burnt out and exhausted.

offering their home and bed, food and drink when you are burnt out and exhausted.

shamelessly invading their home, checking out their fridge, rampaging their bookshelves.

calling out of the blue to play them a waltz.

sending music, talking about music, playing music together.

knowing something is off just by a few lines of text.

bitching about other people together.

cooking them their favorite dish.

all that there is

little unassuming moments

life passes you by

after all

what do we have left

but memories?

Cambridge July 2020