stefanie says

I’m terrible at remembering figures like birthdays and anniversaries and phone numbers, but one thing I’m good at is remembering the random little facts about the people I know. 

This is how I love people: By collecting tiny treasures of their habits and idiosyncrasies and quirks that are essential to who they are and that endear them to me, that separate them from other people. 

And although I won’t be able to recall your number from memory and I have to rely on Facebook to remind me it’s your birthday, I will love you in the midst of the every day - I will think of you in the monotony of daily life and routine, when something will remind me of the little things that you do and say and love.

Things in the every day: Thinking of my grandpa when I have to use a rubber band - that he hates it if any of us wear them around our wrists because he thinks it cuts off the blood to our hands. When I make my breakfast, I am reminded of Phryne (who likes to have her bread buttered in chunks instead of spread) or of Joseph (who prefers Nutino to Nutella as his choice hazelnut spread, a fact most unforgivable) or of Rebecca (whom, during our six months as roommates, I don’t remember making breakfast for herself at all). Catching a random trace of a distinct smell off a stranger reminds me of Jonny, who’s strangely particular about recognizing people by their smell instead of the way they look. Sometimes when I forget to make my bed and it’s left a mess of pillows and blankets, I wonder how Sam does it - she sleeps surrounded by a multitude of pillows and bolsters and stuffed toys, including one particular giant stuffed crocodile. Airplane food reminds me of Hester, who detests almost everything about flying and always passes on eating full meals on board.

I want to know who’s a coffee person or who’s a tea person, and more particularly, what type of tea and how much sugar or honey you like to have in it so that when you come over I can make it for you without you needing to ask. I like remembering what’s the song that makes you dance no matter where you hear it (so that if it comes on when I’m with you, I can dance along), what your handwriting looks like (so that I can recognize notes from you even if they’re unsigned); if you like eating the maraschino cherries or whipped cream on cakes (so that you can have them off my slices so I don’t have to throw it away).

And that, that is how I love you : The secret smile I get when little things like the colour teal or a license plate that’s close to yours or elbow patches on sweaters or Starbucks’ holiday drinks remind me of you and of all the little things that make you delightful.