Tag, you’re it

People keep saying the silver lining of the pandemic are the virtual connections we’ve made, and so today, I’m highlighting a beautiful one. One that has for, the past six months, grown into a supportive friendship I wouldn’t have imagined. A person who has kept me afloat.

If you had told me I would meet someone many states away, via an article I saw on Twitter while absent-mindedly scrolling through my feed one random January morning, I would have said unlikely. If you had said that person would become my collaborator and mama friend, my confidante and secret keeper? No way. My response may have been: what is Twitter; no need for new friends; no time for more colleagues.

I would have been wrong.

We met for the first time one winter morning via Zoom, to see if it would make sense to collaborate on a project for Black History month, to see if we were like-minded enough to write together, share ideas, and build a resource bank that teachers would appreciate and use as a springboard for celebrating Black abundance beyond a single calendar month. My kids wandered in and out of the screen and my hair was still wet after a shower. I got a second cup of coffee. Connecticut was covered in snow; I could see behind her and out the window.

We quickly realized we both have four kids and care about much of the same things; that we could talk books but also writing, literacy leadership, and what we want in the next chapters of our lives. Add exercise and food and some seriously similar birthdays for our babies, add kindness and trust, and you’ve got the ingredients for a friendship. When I told her I have some upcoming passion projects in the pipeline, her response was “in the vault,” though she listened and made suggestions as I asked for feedback.

We send cards. I grinned when I received an Amanda Gorman card in the mail, drawn and designed by her daughter, in perfectly-scripted hand-lettering. She’s the one who convinced me to do Slice of Life, calling on March 1st to invite me to try this challenge.

“I don’t even really understand what it is,” I told her. “I can’t take anything else on.”

“Nawal: you have something to say. It builds instant community. You will love it,” she said.

“Is this your version of convincing the Persian personally? Because you think I wanted you to specifically ask?” I referred her to tarof, the Persian tradition of repeatedly saying no, even though you might mean yes.

This morning I tried her again between work and errands, calling once more for no particular reason. I wanted to tell her I am mentally preparing for a hard trip this week. I wanted to see how her turkey meatballs turned out, and tell her which part of her recent book I appreciated. I wanted to ask what she’s reading for pleasure. Got voicemail, so dashed off a quick text. “Second dose done, headed back home.”

When she called back minutes later, I was dealing with a surprise mini-crisis of bureaucratic nature, so I was forced to decline the call.

“Tag, you’re it,” her voice came over my car’s speakers. I smiled. Because I know it’s okay to try her later this afternoon, maybe when I’m pushing Eloisa on the swing at the park. She works in-building right now and might try me on her commute home. Maybe then she’ll have a good idea for tonight’s dinner.

——Grateful for you, friend.——