I've never lived with anyone other than my family until I was 36, when Yuli and I both found ourselves in New York, starting new lives.
We were colleagues at CNN, but I think our friendship really began after I left the network. As a friend, she goes above and beyond and I think the universe conspired and made her my roommate in New York.
She picked me up from the airport the day I arrived at JFK, panini in hand. She found us an apartment on Remsen Street in Brooklyn, near a place that served good soup dumplings (at the time, New York didn't have Din Tai Fung), and always offered coffee or tea in the morning.
One November Sunday, the news broke that Meta would have massive layoffs the coming week. I sat down with her since there was a huge possibility I would have to leave the country. She responded with calm and kindness.
By Tuesday morning, I woke up to a note from her, waiting in my bathroom. I cried after reading it, before I even knew I'd lost my job. About an hour later, I opened my bedroom door to find a croissant from my favorite spot (Appartement 4F in Brooklyn Heights) waiting for me.
The whole New York chapter was a whirlwind, but when I look back, I lovingly remember our mornings talking about the news, the celebrities in the neighborhood, the UN and technology; the evenings spent talking about life; the walks in Brooklyn Heights; and all the tiny reminders that no matter how chaotic life can be, it would all be alright.
When I experience something magical or miraculous, Yuli is the first person I text. Our friendship began after I left CNN, but a deeper one began after New York. I suppose we can call that, magical.