Add to the list of things that I would call my favorite: my niecephews (the word is “niblings,” apparently).
It took two kids falling on my shoulder and wrestling with video games to hit the realization that people who love you are warm. My hands and feet are perpetually cold, so I like that very much.
Overheard in the Student Center, on the way to the bathroom for the third time that hour: “I love my mooing keychain. It’s the little things.”
I laughed. I love accidental glances and moments shared with kind strangers, like hearing conversations out of context or hopping into one uninvited, but still being appreciated. I’ve always thought HONY has an insight into the peopleness of people; that one thing that we all share in common all over the world, the empathy link between me and you and among everyone else. There’s a genuine charm in peopleness that there just isn’t in the inside jokes that have you rolling on your stomach with laughter.
It’s my favorite.
Although I don’t like the word “favorite.” It’s weak. It feels singular. I don’t have one best friend, or one favorite color, or one favorite feeling. I’d rather you ask what colors I like than which one I like the most, unless you want to hear me say “It depends.”
So for tonight, here are some things that I love and like and would probably call my favorite.
In May 2013, I got myself a nose piercing.
“Ready to impress suitors?” one of my aunts asked, half-joking, half-serious.
“Ready to impress myself,” I said.
Peace to you, traveler. The name is Heba (/ˈhɪbɑ/). It means “a gift from God.”
You might say I’m god-given; you might call the particular way I do things “like Heba.” Or, as an adverb, “Heba-ly.”
“God-given-ly.” Now you know.