Last night I was helping Vivienne make dinner. She loves to cook lately, and she’ll proudly go over to the meal planner on the fridge and write, “I cook” on a given night and then tell us all of the ingredients she needs. Last night it was sauteed mushrooms and white rice (always), a salad with spinach, hearts of palm, and avocado, a fruit salad, and buttered bread. I turned on a go-to playlist while I helped her, and when Rilo Kiley came on I immediately thought of an article about Jenny Lewis that I read a couple of years ago. There was this passage that I loved, not only because it was so well constructed but also because the punch line was wickedly funny and perfectly timed. As soon as I thought of it again I found myself wanting someone to laugh and relate with. I texted the friend of more than 20 years who I sent it to and laughed with the first time I read it. She’s way out in Seattle and I don’t even know when I saw her last. The memory made me miss her. Suddenly I missed laughing with people about something we all understood. I sent a text to my go-to group thread of local friends asking first if anyone listened to Jenny Lewis or Rilo Kiley, to see if the reference would land. No one responded. I remember when liking the same music was one of the major grounds for friendship. Now I don’t think I could name what kind of music any of the friends on my group text thread listen to. Isn’t that strange?