We have been to the same place many times in the last month. The ramen shop on 40th. The waitress knows our order, just looks at us and says, “the usual?” with a raised eyebrow. With a quick nod from both of us, she is off to put in the order to the kitchen. My kid is picky and the ramen shop will make it exactly how he likes it;  plain noodles, no toppings and an extra order of noodles on the side. Edamame and chicken karaage. The waitress with the pink head bandana usually serves us, but today we got the waitress with the purple head bandana. We had to actually say our order, not just nod. 

 

The ramen came out hot. Not spicy hot, but, hot hot, the kind that scalds your mouth and forces you to drink water quickly and then simply wait for it to cool off. Steam rises and warms our faces. I watch my kid, not really a kid anymore, a 19 year old and I try to hold his face in my mind as soon, I will be heading home. His brown, beautiful eyes. His small brown freckle above his lip. His eyes widen and come alive as he tells me about the concept of infinity, rational and irrational numbers. They reach for a napkin to tear off pieces to illustrate a math concept of sets that I do not really understand, but nod at, because they are so excited to tell me. I take another sip of my cooled off ramen. Hold this moment in my head. In my heart.

 

We pay the bill and walk out into the cool night. I reach to hug him goodbye and hold him longer than he’d like. “I love you” I say to him as he walks off in the opposite direction.