When I was in second grade, I was enrolled in a Sunday school that would teach me about my culture and language. My parents wanted me to join as a way to embrace my background in a Western country, but I was never too interested in the content because I had already heard it from my mother. Every year before Sunday school ended for the summer, they would hold a program called the Annual Day Celebration, where each class of every grade in the school came up with a play and performed it.

As a self-centered child who believed the world revolved around her, I was always excited for that time of year because it meant that I could show off my talents of dancing around like there was no tomorrow. There was no point in me even trying because we only got participation awards, and the person dressed as a tree next to me would receive the same trophy.

Nevertheless, I took the day as my opportunity to shine. We had to rehearse for several weeks before the actual presentation, and I was beyond ecstatic to start parading around. One day, a girl my height walked into the room, talking loudly with another girl behind her. They were so enamored in their conversation that when the first girl glanced in my direction, she acted as if she did not notice me there. As a drama queen, I took that as a message that she was not and never would be my friend, so I made it my life mission every Sunday to return the seemingly nasty look she gave me that rehearsal.

Three years later, I walked in late on my first day of Sunday school that new school year, out-of-breath and by-default glaring at anyone who crossed my path. When I walked into the room, there was only one seat open, and it coincidentally was next to the same girl who gave me the look three years before.

Sunday school was never my favorite place to go to, but she and I learned that we had a lot more in common with each other than I would have ever imagined before. She and I share the same music taste, always calling each other in the middle of the night to talk about new songs we found and new shows we were binge-watching. Through the weekly classes, we became so close to the point where when I left Sunday school, I wanted to go back.

We were never the type of friends to meet regularly outside of Sunday school, so we'd spend nights rambling about nothing, discussing our day, how we were feeling, and planning on a day when we could see each other face-to-face once again. I can never thank her enough for how much of a sister she's been to me, and I will never forget her for being the shoulder I can laugh, cry, and think on whenever I want to.