My friend Marion is turning [insert her age here because she doesn't like to tell people how old she is]. She's in the south of France and I miss her so much. Soooooo much. I wish I could be in France to celebrate her real birthday with her this year. But it's ok. When we're in the same place at the same time, we'll choose a day to celebrate her birthday. Right Raison? Right.
It was really luck that brought Marion into my life, I think. Luck placed her apartment right next to mine in that fateful fall in Paris. We had some amazing times in those apartments. From the first time that we hung out and went to the Louvre. Marion explained her philosophies on life, explained the meaning of her tattoo, and told me she was baptized...which was actually me misunderstanding what she was saying. So strange. Most of my time knowing her I believed her to be Catholic. Anyway. I was so excited to be in the company of someone so smart, who spoke with conviction, who made an effort to extend a friendship to me.
Then when we started to invite each other over for dinner at night. The first time, I made, what was supposed to be Iranian polo, and "khoresht bademjoon." Haha, yeah right. But at least it tasted alright? And then Marion would make pasta with aubergines, or traditional southern cuisine. We would eat dinner, and then wonder what we should do. So, Marion would let me flip through her dvds and we would choose one to watch. Our favorite, of course, was L'Auberge Espagnole. As we sat there and watched, we said, "one day, we're going to have a group of friends like this." We sat there, watched the movie, and smiled.
We bonded those months over the annoying dog in our apartment complex. Mim's dog, Angel. We bonded over the loud loud loud music the girl above us would play all the time. Marion yelled at the girl who lived in that apartment for throwing her cigarette butts down onto, what I considered, my garden. It was like, since she was French, she protected me from what I could not protect myself.
We were roommates for a while. She moved her things into my apartment and would apologize every day for having her things there. "MARION!" I would yell, "Do you see me USING that part of the apartment?!" Nooooo. And we would make dinner and eat together. Or make disgusting drinks with left over alcohol, ice, and clementines, which we wouldn't be able to drink.
And in the mornings, Marion would wake up earlier than us (us, because at this point Yasna was living there too) and she would get ready in my TINY TINY TINY MINISCULE little bathroom, and eat her cereal in there too. Her cereal with the chocolate that smelled like paint but Marion and Yasna loved it so much.
And at night we would come back home, and sometimes she would ask (no not sometimes, ONCE) me to braid her hair, and I would wonder why she couldn't just braid her own hair. And she would think that I didn't love her anymore because I wouldn't braid her hair or make her pizza. Except, no one needs to eat frozen pizza late at night when they should actually be going to bed. Right?
And we would spend time blowing up Yasna's matelas. And Marion would tell me, "NO. NOT MAT-E-LAS, MATLA" and I would forget each time how to pronounce the word.
Oh the times that passed in that apartment.
Oh the times that passed that year.
Marion would get mad at us daily for never being on time to any place. She would always get there before us, and have to wait. And we would apologize and apologize. But the next day we would be late again.
And she was always there to give us advice. What to do. What NOT to do. And I would listen to her telling me and wonder how it was she became so learned at such a young age. And I would try to follow her advice. Only sometimes it just wouldn't work. And she would raise her eyebrow at me.
The times we couldn't understand each other.
Marion: Oh, I'm so hungry, I just want something to heaattt
Ranna: Here. Punch this computer box
Marion: I WANT SOMETHING TO EAT.
Ranna: Ohhhhhh eaaaaaaatttttttt
Marion: Je suis contrariée
Yasna/Courtney: What is that?
Marion: Ranna, c'est quoi, contrariée en anglais?
Ranna: Oh, she has her period.
Marion: NO I DONT!!!!
Marion: How do you say 'Christmas tree' in English?
Ranna: In english? Christmas tree?
Marion: Ranna, give me what you're using to wash your dishes.
Ranna: It's right there!
Ranna hands over plastic bottle of what is assumed to be dishwashing liquid
Marion: RANNA, THIS IS TOILET BOWL CLEANER
Ranna and Marion fall on floor laughing
GOD. I know I'm forgetting so much. I'm forgetting SO MUCH! I don't want to forget. I was supposed to always remember. Alas, I must wait to build new memories with her.
Marion's life is not always easy. Far from it, in fact. And if there was a way to possibly cushion the blows life throws, I would cushion hers without asking any questions. I think of every person I know in this world, she deserves the highest level of happiness.
I know that the world is working in her favor a little bit more recently, in the last few months, and I hope that everything only continues to get better.
Marion, pretend that we're all there, the family, sitting around the table, a cake in front of you with candles for you to blow. Pretend we're all singing "Happy Birthday" to you in all of our different languages. Pretend that there is champagne spilling from our glasses, and that after we cut the cake we're going to go to your favorite place....BANANA :)
Je t'aime, mooshmooshak. I love you with all of my heart and not an ounce less.
Here is to all the memories we've built, and all the ones I know we are going to build in the future.
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