A sharing sleepover

I met my Indian friends in 1999 when they were neighbors when I'd invited people on my floor in for a 12th night cake.

I've watched their daughter go from getting her 2nd teeth to being a medical student in Scotland with lots of brownie making, pumpkin carving and talking in between. I've been to their dance performers, they've been to my book readings.

Our floor was a big happy family including my Syrian friend. We shared meals, guests, movies. Many Sunday mornings, I padded down the hallway still in my pjs for an Indian breakfast.

I lived with them for three weeks between apartments. And when I asked to stay because I was covering a conference in a short walk from their place, they said "we thought you were a long-time resident."

Now we live on opposite sides of the city and our schedules preclude the physical closeness but not the friendship closeness.

Even though they are in a new place it is like coming home every time I visit.

Last night we caught up on our news as I watched him make an Indian meal. He is innovative, cooking without recipes, but I can get a good lesson on use of spices.

He showed me a 20 minute Indian film. I would have enjoyed it on my own, but his explanations of the cultural twists I would have missed and gave me a greater appreciation of the story based on jealousy, generosity and forgiveness.

We missed two important events in our individual families this year. Her 50th birthday coincided with Rick's and my commitment ceremony. However, I had the wonderful book of photos made by my housemate and she had a video of her party. It let us into each other's lives yet again.

This morning, after a breakfast reminiscent of the good old days, I walked part way to work with her.

These are the good new days.