I’m eating an apricot, actually two apricots from the basket I bought, and remembering that July after Ali’s wedding when we were having breakfast at the hotel and you loaded up on apricots because they were so juicy, saying, these Turkish apricots are wonderful. I never tasted apricots this sweet.

It was one of those moments that replays itself in my head every time I eat an apricot even though my first memories of apricots are of my mother who loved that particular fruit and said something similar whenever she was biting into one, though without the reference to Turkey because she had never gone there, or here, actually, since it is where I live now.

Fruit. I think of you a lot when I eat fruit. There were always different types of fruit on your kitchen table that you were slicing for me to eat. Watermelon, for instance, is…