We Are All Collages.
I carry a little piece of my people in everything I do.
My baba always calls me “the sweetest and cutest pie,” presumably to single me out as the superlative among the many other sweetie pies and cutie pies. It’s my favorite compliment and I use it on just about everybody.
My mom takes pictures of every meal we’ve ever eaten and every place we’ve ever visited, because “if no one sees the picture, it never happened.” Because of her, I take a picture whenever I feel happy or surprised or elated or serene. When I scroll through my camera roll and see all of my favorite memories staring back at me, I’m glad she taught me well.
My younger brother pushes his chair back and forth at the dinner table. My best friends call me “baefy” (a mix of “bae” and “wifey,” I think?). My cello teacher plucks across all of her strings before she starts playing. My track teammates always slap their legs right before the gun goes off. I’ve absorbed these mannerisms and probably passed them onto others.
When I hear certain songs, they take me back to special times, singing in the passenger seat of someone’s car, everyday stresses momentarily forgotten. Specific smells, sounds, words, and places mean more to me. They add color to my life, not because of what they are physically, but because of who they’re attached to.
I hope you become one of my people, and that I become one of yours.