Yesterday was the ten year anniversary of my graduation from Georgetown Law. It seems like only yesterday and, at the same time, a world away.
I gained so much from my law school days at Georgetown. A top notch education. An affection for one of the most vibrant cities in the United States. The confidence that I could set out on my own, away from nearly all my family and friends, and do okay. But the number one thing I gained was friendship. I became (and have remained) friends with dozens of wonderful people. While we are now scattered across the country and may go months or years without seeing each other, we remain bonded by that very special (and challenging) experience.
Of those friendships, all of which I am so thankful for, one stands out above the rest: Rushika. Small in stature but huge in heart. The first to come to your aid when needed, no matter where you are or what you need. A true friend by all accounts.
Rushika and I lived together with three other awesome girls in a Dupont Circle row house for the last two years of law school. The house was owned by a florist who often brightened our home with flowers and sweetened it with pastries. Much of her generosity was due to the relationship Rushika fostered. Rushika helped her on special occasions in the floral shop and the two became close.
Rushika has that way about her. Always willing to lend a hand no matter what she may get in return. It is a remarkable quality. I, at least, want to be repaid in cheese and wine.
I cannot name the number of times she has done this for me because it is far too many. She barely knew my mother, but helped me with her funeral. She got us access to Club 33 at Disneyland in tribute to my mom, who LOVED Disneyland but never had the privilege of accessing its super secret and exclusive restaurant. When Corby and I broke up for a few months in 2006 – in the middle of our final set of exams at Georgetown – she set up camp in her room so that we could study together. In the years since Georgetown, I have probably received no less than 100 emails with a single sentence: “How’s my girl?” She checks in to see if I have entered my time each month (it is the bane of my lawyerly existence). She checks in to see if I am working too hard. She sends me smiling pictures of her adorable baby boy. When I fell on the first day of trial in Orange County, she sent her husband to my hotel immediately with a walking boot. The day after she found out I had ataxia, she drove to Los Angeles to see me with her husband, that adorable baby, and homemade Sri Lankan food. In the week that has followed, she has checked up on me multiple times. I have come to expect nothing less.
One of my favorite memories of Rushika is from law school. Georgetown had a day care center and the children at the day care would get shuttled through campus on occasion. The children would all have to hold a rope as they walked, which was an adorable sight to see in the middle of your studying and a great way to wrangle a bunch of kiddos. On occasion, you would hear one of the wranglers shout out “hold the rope,” and the kids who had let go would fall in line. For my birthday, I planned a bar crawl in Adams Morgan, complete with our own rope. Rushika does not drink, but she came along as the wrangler. She had a whistle and when she instructed to hold the rope, we listened. It was magical. Rushika – drunk law student wrangler.
Planning a wedding comes with making a ton of decisions. The venue. The music. The food.
One decision was very simple for me. I knew who I wanted to marry me the minute Corby proposed.
Rushika.
I am not a practicing Christian and did not want a church wedding. It would have felt disingenuous to be married by a pastor or priest. However, I am incredibly ethical and moral. I wanted to be married by the person who to me epitomizes those qualities and all of the qualities I want in a marriage: patience, kindness, an honest, open heart, and a willingness to put someone else before yourself.
The Dalai Lama said it best:
This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.
Within the religion to which I ascribe, Rushika is a saint.
It was an incredible honor to be a part of her wedding several months later in Sri Lanka. Corby and I traveled around the world to be there and we would do it again in a heartbeat. Mostly for the lentils. Sri Lankan lentils are my own form of crack.
In this new chapter of my life, I know I have so many people by my side and I am thankful for them all. I could not do this alone. But I especially could not do it without Rushika.
the vanishing magician 