The shoe bin was out getting some sun on the porch, and Umm Badeea was cooking something which smelled just like my dreams on summer nights.
I forgave Umm Badeea and her seven sons for every moment of discomfort I’d lived through inside their house.
I continued to call it “vanillia” as Umm Badeea had pronounced it at the time, until I started working at the co-op and discovered it was pronounced “vanilla”.
O delicate vanilla, come to my aid.
What shall I tell him to make him come? Shall I send him a text message? Something like: I have a secret you will want to know. Don’t forget about our appointment.
Or: I’m begging you! Many of my other research participants have had to cancel. You’re my last hope. Don’t skip our appointment. My professional life is in your hands.
Overdone. Not re
