To a girl filled with beauty and character,
I do not even remember the first day we met. I think we were about three years old when our subconscious decided that we were going to be inseparable.
I do remember the endless days playing with our stuffed animals, pretending we were protecting them, fending for them. I remember the countless hours spent in the basement playing with Barbie dolls. I even remember the Halloween’s spent together- me, you, your sister; we tried to steal as much candy as possible from all of our neighbors.
You and I shared a passion- dance. There was one afternoon in the Spring time where we were preparing for our recital. You were dressed in this yellow sequined costume, and I was dressed in this pink and green uncomfortable leotard. Our mother’s coated us in makeup and hairspray and took endless amounts of pictures in my front yard. I remember you saying to me that you were unbelievably nervous for your performance- that you feared forgetting the choreography. Within seconds, I changed the subject, attempting to distract you from your ongoing anxiety.
Even though times have changed, and I do not live two doors down from your family anymore, I cannot pass by your bedroom or that dance academy without feeling a sense of emptiness.
I remember the day I discovered your battle. We were spending time at one of our neighbor's houses and I noticed something different in your stance. Later that evening I asked my mom if anything was wrong; I was eight years old and my mom was explaining osteosarcoma to me. At such a young age, I had no idea what this meant, but as time progressed, my knowledge on this sickness deepened.
Despite this unfortunate ailment that was far too powerful to handle, I want you to know that you were perhaps the bravest seven-year-old that I have ever met. For two years, you attempted to conquer cancer, but it was just far too strong.
It has been eight years since I last saw you; as the years pass, I think about you more and more- how you really helped me discover who I was a child and who I wanted to become.
My relationship with your sister has not changed- I consider her to be one of the most important people in my life, one of the strongest teenagers I have ever met. I promise you, that will never change.
You were one of the most confident and vibrant seven-year-old's that would not allow anything to get in your way. I envy your positivity, and I hope to carry your personality in me in the years to come.
I hope you are happy, shining above us, with nothing but puppies and kittens comforting you to the sound of “Here Comes the Sun.”
Love,
1/3 of the Musketeers
