© Makayla Lagerman | MSII
I love this time, and we have grown,
But my imagination grows thick with plaques of jade.
We out-busy one another with this interest group and that service org
But still find time every day to commiserate.
Deadlines with countdowns.
“Can you believe they moved the practical to Monday?”
We speak only in acronyms and only of things we learned within the last fifteen months.
A younger me would have rolled her eyes and said,
“Are you anything but medicine?”
Is it fair to be angry with how I’ve assimilated
When someone with a rejection letter would gladly trade spots?
So.
Let’s not talk about school tonight.
Tell me instead how to build trellises and when to plant cucumber seeds.
Invite me to celebrate your daughter’s second birthday and hear whether she’s more like Mom or Dad.
Teach me how to serve the volleyball overhand.
Ask me about the hidden messages in Taylor Swift’s new album
Or my ideas for ending homelessness.
I want pickleball,
Nights in forts,
Firefly walks,
And moments when we have to tell people,
Because they can’t tell already,
“Oh, we just happened to meet in medical school.”