I only lived in Albuquerque, NM for a year, and I best remember the hot, arid days that the summer promises. My family and I, we lived in a small condo. For a while, the rooms kept the blank, lifeless look, bare without any furniture or decorations, like family pictures; it looked as if we had just moved in. Sitting criss-cross-applesauce with my sister, Eve, on the floor, we stared at the TV as “Avatar” played, eating chocolate-coated marshmallow treats, or as chocolate teacakes, which my mom had bought us. To me, I didn’t care about having a couch or covered walls that displayed memories. What I did care about was the food I got to share with Eve.
Eve has always been one of my biggest inspirations and best friends, but it wasn’t mutual, especially not when I was a talkative, clingy 5-year-old. My mom signed us up for a one-week summer camp, full of different activities from ceramics to acting. And I absolutely loved it. I swam, painted and made friends, but my favorite actually had nothing to do with the camp itself.
I remember one specific morning before we left for camp. After my mom smothered Eve and I in sunscreen (and smudged our neon shirts in the process), we made our way to Tina, my mom’s 2006 Toyota Highlander that never lost the distinct, pristine ‘car smell.’ I sat alone in the back seat as my mom drove and since Eve was tall enough, they sat in the passenger seat, which I was jealous of. And my mom always turned on the radio, which would always be some pop top-hit, and she would wind the windows down. I felt the warm sun on my face, and I remember the soft sensation of my baby hairs against my forehead.
The landscape of New Mexico is like a smoothie — there are the vast deserts, towering mountains and the bright, vivid cloudless skies seamlessly blend together. Although Eve and I fought a lot as kids, we never fought outside, not in nature. On the one day it would snow in the winter, we would run to get ready together and go sledding on this one hill, over and over again; weekly trips to the pool during the brutal summers were an absolute must and we played Marco Polo for hours; and we sat in kitchen together, eating warm Khachapuri our dad made. These moments meant the world to me and even though we were going to do different activities at the camp, I still felt that same feeling, the sentiment that Eve was my person.
As I looked out the window, I felt a tap on my knee.
“Here,” Eve said, placing a lemon poppy seed muffin in my hand.
Growing up, we both loved muffins, no matter what kind. I unwrapped it, smushing the plastic wrap in a ball. And the rest of the car ride was smooth. It seems mundane, but it was such a joy; we were eating muffins, listening to our favorite songs and we didn’t have a care in the world. I hoped and wished that Eve and I would be closer once we were both older. And we are. It was my dream that we wouldn’t fight about menial things and I wouldn’t be coined as the annoying little sister.
Today, Eve is one of my best friends. I have never felt more comfortable with someone, expressing every single one of my emotions and sharing the tiny details of my days. We baked these lemon poppy seed muffins together and I hope that as we get older, we will get opportunities to bake, laugh, watch movies and simply just be together because I feel best with them
