The Tupperware Drive — Lonika Mideva (1946-2026)

When I left for boarding school, you said I'd forget how to eat. You were right. By October I was living on cafeteria mystery snacks. So you made the trip, two hours by foot packed with food, a hotpot of soup, the good rice and chicken.

You found me in the waiting bay and said nothing about my exhausted eyes, just unpacked containers onto a bench like it was Christmas. We ate with plastic forks in the cold.

You asked if I was sleeping enough. I lied. You knew. That visit, and every one after, you came anyway.

Thank you for support me, forever in my heart.