to: HANS

On June 4th, 2007, she came into the world.

As early as I can remember, her presence was stamped into mine. 

At first, it was like gum stuck on the bottom of my shoes, an annoyance I could never shake off.

The first years together were blurry and disoriented, a haze of a white dog running after us as we jumped on 

Her trampoline, a burnt cake, a plastic bag of homemade ice cream, the sharp smell of sunscreen on our arms as we swam in a public pool.

The boxes of slimes she made, the carpet floor of your room dotted with stains, the blinding turquoise walls 

The train of kitchen chairs we created to race in your hallways, the crawfish broils I never ate, how I always wanted to run away to her house on late summer nights. 

I would count the minutes away in my head every time I was driven to her house, anxiously waiting to see her. 

You taught me things no one else did, from how you were so reckless and how I loved the rush of adrenaline as we climbed onto a church roof, ran from our parents in a garden, and laid side by side on your bedroom floor, talking for hours about nothing

I envied your confidence, how I was drawn to you like a moth to a flame, and how quick you were to learn new things

You never failed to light me up or build me up at my lowest 

I wish I could grab the nights at your house when we were so little into a bottle and replay them over and over again. 

When COVID hit, and my anxiety rose, I spent hours with you crying over climate change and how messed up our world was (is). 

We could spend months at a time not talking, but it never mattered since when I would see you again, nothing changed. 

Until one day, something did.  It was after covid ended, and I could sense something had shifted within you. 

It wasn’t the heavy makeup or the change of style. We all went through that.

It went so much deeper than that.

I realized with COVID, I barely got to witness your change. I missed so much of your identity shift with time. 

Items began to disappear, and new things replaced them.

 Your slime became weed, plushies became vape, and makeup filled every corner of your room.

Jewelry dishes became ashtrays.

Our bond never broke, though. That never was replaced. In fact, it became stronger.