Winnie and I get together for major celebrations—birthdays, Christmas, and New Year. It is hard to believe, and maybe it is pure fantasy on my part ( because she doesn’t have the recollection) that we have been friends since kindergarten. In any case we have known each other forever, with the kind of friendship that prevails no matter what happens.
We met at the Turkish Kitchen in Berkeley for lunch. We ordered lachmacun (ground lamb on thin bread crust) and Immam bayildi (stuffed eggplant in olive oil), both came out surprisingly authentic and delicious. For dessert, a sugary baklava. Winnie had a bag of present for me.
“I just realized that our birth year and our age is the same this year. (1956, age 56),” Winnie said.
Numbers! “Then it is probably a very good year for us,” I said.
We walked out to a heavy down pour. The first this year. A good omen.
