Emma

Christine is a fourth-year Sociology and Public Health major who enjoys cooking, baking, reading, and movie nights with friends.

My friend Emma and I had just finished putting our cookie batter in the oven to bake. We sat on the couch, each hugging a cushion like it was a

This was an odd question to ask. Considering the fact that it’s been a while since we caught up and there were some big changes in my life, like going to therapy for the first time, I had anticipated her questions around that. I always thought of friendship as being able to share about your life with someone without holding back because you trust them. I wasn’t particularly excited to trauma dump, but I also wanted to show her I felt comfortable being vulnerable and honest with her.

“Well,” I began, shifting gears in my mind. “My family is really introverted. I never introduce them to new people because it’s rude to make them talk. But at home, and over the dinner table, we’re crazy. We talk all day and sometimes someone does a circus-like stunt to make the others laugh.”

Emma is also an introvert, so I knew that she understood the reality that there’s a secret world where introverts can be crazy too.

“But I wouldn’t say my family is shy,” I continued. “My dad is really creative and I don’t know anyone more confident than him,” I explained. “When my dad danced with my sister at her graduation banquet, he and my sister both had this subtle smirk on their faces as if they were embarrassed for being better than everyone else.”

Emma yelled, “That’s where your confidence comes from!” We laughed, and I remembered the time we tried to learn the choreography of High ’s “We’re All in This Together.” I loved that moment. It was like we traveled back in time together and became second graders, even though we’re both in our last years of college.

“The funny thing is when they were finished, my mom boosted their egos even more, saying they should become professional dancers. My mom is the best cheerleader. She knows how to make even the dumbest mistakes sound like an achievement.”

Emma replied, “She sounds amazing. I wish I’d had the chance to know her!” My parents actually can’t speak English, so I don’t really introduce them to my friends. I loved that Emma wanted to get to know them, even

Emma shifted her position and sat on the ground between the coffee table and couch to get closer to the puzzles she’d been working on, scattered on the coffee table. I did the same to show the same kind of enthu- siasm for puzzles, knowing full well that I would find maybe one pair of pieces that align during the entirety of this conversation. I don’t really enjoy puzzles.

“You know, I used to complain a lot about my family,” I said. “I always felt out of place with them because I liked trying new things while they liked staying in their comfort zone. My family wanted to eat Korean food on a week-long trip to New York and forgot to try pizza. And I don’t know if any social event exists where my family would stay till the end. We always leave early because someone gets tired of socializing. But now I miss having an excuse to go home early or eat comfort food.”

There’s a unique sense of being seen when someone confesses that they prefer something that you thought only you would like. As I talked with Emma, I realized maybe my family was doing the same, and I just never knew that the comfort they wanted, I also wanted.

“I’m realizing now, maybe I’m an introvert!” I concluded. “I think I’ve been pressuring myself to be extroverted, to be what I thought I needed to be.”

Emma let out a huge sigh, and I knew she was slightly annoyed with me. “Are you serious? You change your personality type every week!”

She was right. I do change my personality type all the time.

The smell of the cookies started to simmer in the air, and I didn’t even bother to justify myself. She knew me well, and I was ready to feel the warm perfection of the homemade cookies we baked together. I bit into a cookie, crunchy on the outside, soft and moist on the inside, with melty semi-sweet chocolate complementing the savory and even salty parts of the cookie batter. I never got to share about the emotional crisis I was in. But I didn’t need to, Emma didn’t need that from me.