We joked that my grandparents’ north Provo block was Edgemont’s Little Asia. Bapuji had come first, back in the 1960s. Jasbir was there by the ’80s, when I was a kid. Being related to most Punjabis I knew, it took me years to realize he was just my neighbor. But that’s how Utah at its best is. Close. Ryus were across the street when I lived there in college, but the boys were Bapuji’s Cub Scouts and regularly occupied the kitchen table with crafts. Their 4-year-old sister would trike into the backyard and park just behind the house, sharing long stories through the window while I washed dishes. The mountains rose in the background, sheltering us. The loom for shared lives, woven into one home.