Tom

Tom called me on Wednesday. "I'm on the Google campus!" he said. "I'm here for the Intern Open House!"

I found him on the patio outside the cafe, and we walked around meeting my coworkers. It's the first time I've seen him in three weeks, since I dropped off his luggage after he got back from the semester in Japan. Spending time with Tom grounds me. It reminds me of what's really important. But he's busy and I don't want to bother him, and he thinks I'm busy and doesn't want to bother me, and so it goes.

Last night I drove him to the airport for a weekend trip to New York. My cell phone rang during the drive, and he handed me my red clutch purse. When we parked and I reached for my purse, it was MIA. We looked under the seats, in the frontseat, backseat...

Finally, Tom said, "Maybe I put it inside your other purse." and zipped open my large black purse. Immediately we saw the glint of red leather.

"Tom!" I giggled, standing next to the car and bending down to look at him through the open car door. "What happened?"

"I was putting the purse away and then I just kept recursing," he said, through laughter.

We sat in the airport lobby for half an hour, chatting about what type of fulltime work he wants to do, whether he would live in San Francisco or the South Bay after graduation.

"Hey, that worker is wearing the same dress as you," he said.

I was in my custom-fitted cheongsam en route to a party in San Fran. I turned to my right, and indeed behind the fast-food chinese counter, the server was wearing a knockoff version.

"Thanks Tom," I said.



It was a very lovely conversation.

One of the top three mistakes of my life was that I didn't call my brother more often when I went away to college. I shouldn't keep making the same mistake.