I sat across from you on the first day of school. You sent a note that said something like:
'Do you want to be friends?''
We became friends.
We then shared stories and secrets on the bench under the magnolia tree, in our plaid uniforms, with our lunch boxes and Harry Potter books on our laps.
We studied math. Rather, you taught me math on the sofa in your living room while we roasted chestnuts on the black copper heater and huddled for warmth.
We dribbled syrup from your father’s knefe on the plastic tablecloth in your kitchen, much to your mother’s dismay. I also disrupted the frays on her carpet. Still, she fed me tacos and forgave.
We shared the narrow pillow, narrow cover, on your narrow bed next to the one in which your sister slept. Shared wardrobes, our dreams of wedding days and Prince Charmings on endless sleepovers.
We walked on the asphalt, in loop, in the neighbourhood where you lived on eventless Fridays. We danced ballet together on Thursdays and Saturdays, and every waking, dreaming hour every other day.
We studied for tests, fell for the same blond boy band musician, same actors, traveled across the globe together, cried our homesickness across states and phone lines to one another.
You were there when I buried my brother. I was there when your uncle died. We faced raging dogs, centipedes, robbers, bad boyfriends, house break-ins, and heart breaks. We did it together. Cried. Ate ice cream. And Doritos. Then watched something funny. Recited the lines of children's movies. At least we knew those ended well.
You were always there, holding my hand. When you couldn’t you always called. When you couldn’t you texted, you emailed, you wrote letters, you sent prayers, you thought.
I was there too, when you jumped on a wall, terrified of a chicken, remember? I was there when you hosted your first dinner. There when you had your first kiss. I was there when you knew you had found the one, more than ten years ago. I hope you felt that I was always there for you too. I promise I always tried.
You were there on my wedding day. I was not there on yours. My heart was, and every white rose I could send. My sister got married last Saturday.
I want you to know I will always try to be here, for anniversaries, Christmases, birthdays, and who knows, maybe soon pregnancies, births and baptisms, New Year’s Eves and regular old Sundays.
And when I cannot I will send a rose, and my heart. Like I did on Saturday.
I love you. Happy wedding day, Mushy.