Dasha

She was my rock in Geneve. She was my athletic trainer, getting me on the bike and hike. She was my priest and listened to my confessions. She was my laughter at the UN internship. She was a twin musical taste. She wore me out and wore me under and woke me up. I hadn't had a best friend in a long time, and certainly not one so much younger than me. Her soul is old and mine is infantile.

Dasha comes to visit today, Saturday.

In Geneve, she came with me to the expat 4th of July in the park. We thought it silly and she took photos of me with the Obama cut-out and the hippie Uncle Sam. Saturday afternoon, she will again infiltrate the US ways and join me for Thanksgiving at a colleague's apartment where we will feast with other silly kids.

I have missed her and I'm so relieved that she's coming to visit.