"Did you give this to me because I have red hair?" Britt said last year at the Greek restaurant when I slid a copy of MY NAME IS RED over to her.
"Totally, and since it's written from a dead person's perspective I thought it'd be PERFECT for you..." I answered jokingly. That's not why I got it for her, of course. Orhand Pamuk wrote SNOW, a book we shared one summer and thoroughly enjoyed. She smiled as she thumbed through it and then we moved to the deserts I'd gotten earlier-- Britt likes to destroy anything that comes within three feet of frosting. As do I. Not in the-- destroy it to get rid of it way, but in a destroy it to eat all the best pieces way.
Shortly after that we discussed her impending move to D.C. and her eye-brow-raising-cool job. Only...it would take almost eight more months before everything fell into place for her. I remember her frustration last year at this time-- but I also remember the amount of courage, patience, and determination she exhibited-- both while she waited and then as she moved. I would have thrown my hands up with a sigh and said "it's just not going to happen," but she never did. Brittany has taught me a lot about pluck over the years-- but also about persistence. So while I handed her a book and gave her desserts last year on her birthday thinking she probably would never get the go-ahead to move on to her job and new life in D.C.-- this year she celebrated it in the capital and today goes back to work in a field she loves. Way to go, sister.
Pictures: 1) Brittany with all the snacks Rob and I made her stuff into her fleece while we hiked in Germany. 2) Brittany and I (making a familiar spaz face) at her going-away party. I'd just been pulled over for driving a dumpy car in Thousand Oaks. I kid you not. 3) Brittany and I doing Pilates in Rob's Yerevan apartment because we couldn't work out for basically three months. Torture for us!
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