coffee rings on the countertop.

My parents came to visit me this weekend. It is very rare that they both drive from San Francisco to Los Angeles at the same time. For one, my mom rarely gets time off of work during the school year since she is a teacher. Also, she hates making that long drive.

But this time they didn't drive. My dad rode down on his Harley and picked me up one night and we went out for sushi. He fastened my helmet on and we drove off down Landfair on his motorcycle. When he left that night, I felt sort of empty, like there was something missing from my day-to-day life that I had never even noticed until he stepped back into it. He disappeared for a few days to go to a motorcycle festival. When he came back, he picked up my mom from the airport and I picked them up from the UCLA Guest House and we went out for sandwiches.

The whole time we were there, my parents wouldn't stop talking about the motorcycle races and the cold wind as they ran down the highway. I drove them to Pinkberry and we all shared green tea frozen yogurt in the hotel lobby. My mom picked up the newspaper and did a crossword, every so often lifting her head to ask, "Who was the ghost that Macbeth saw?" and "Who composed 'Moon River'?" My dad, likewise, lifted up the newspaper and drifted into the business section.

My parents are like best friends. They do things together that I don't know if I would ever be able to do. I can't believe how much my mom has grown to love motorcycles or how much my dad has grown to adore cats. Seeing them together fills me with a sense of calm and peace, like everything will be all right... If I can just find this. If I can just understand, deeply, how my parents work so evenly together and how they have been - though not flawless - the most human and the most lovable people I will ever know.