L stands for Love
L: so i mean, i gotta get ready for some major disciplining
Me: i need to work on that end too
L: let’s make a deal, yasminay
Me: such as?
L: this year we have graduation to look forward to
L: so we need to start off well and do brilliant
Me: oh lord
L: when i come back, yasminay will be a happy, satisfied-that-her-hard-work-will-pay-off kinda person
L: you are gonna do great things
Me: i hope so, man
L: whatever it is you do ;-)
L: i mean look at you mashaAllah
L: the way you think, the way you express yourself
L: you are your own person, and yasmine will make yasmine a happy success
Me: be right back…
L: ok just when i was going off on my heartfelt and happy moment
I love L – her hair, her wry sense of humor, her long squeezy hugs, her gorgeous smile, and the way she shouts out, “Yasminay!” whenever she sees me on campus or answers my phone calls. No one else – except for my father and sister – knows how to say “Yasminay” with that perfect Pukhtun emphasis, and she’s not even Pukhtun. And did I mention the fact that she loves the salmon burritos at Dos Coyotes and thinks Irfan Makki rocks das Haus? There’s true loyalty right there. On the other hand, she hates all of my alternative rock music, but whatever, I’ve decided I can’t let that make or break our friendship, even though she’s about to abandon us for DC soon, which is not a very friendly thing to do, ya know what I mean? Oh, and L can assume the funniest fake fobby accents in the world. I’m talking hours of entertainment here, people.
I’m blessed to know the people that I do, and to have them believe in me when lately it seems I don’t even have the patience and ambition to believe in myself.