Dear...

Us

Once upon a time there were six young girls. They weaved themselves into each other and became the best of friends. Each one amazing in their own light.

When I was younger I had five best friends, we met at tender ages and thought we'd all be friends forver. If someone told me that things would change that our friendships would change I'd never have believed them.

Recent events in my life have made me think of them and how I'd always wanted to write to them, but differently than I usually did.

They are the reason I love friendship and know what a good friend looks like. In the six of us there was intelligence, ferocity, beauty, kindness, sport and loyalty.

Ferocity, was a pretty young girl. Petite with a mouth that stopped for no one. She was passionate in all things. She set fire to our friendship. She is the reason I believe in passion and saying what you please. Believing in people to the fullest extent. She taught me that friendship could and should live in passion.

To the girl that shares my name,
Out of all the girls I regret our end the most. Mostly because there was no end. I saw you some days ago and I d but there is a slight sadness in your beauty. Like a small bit of your passion left.
One of my favorite things used to be the way you sang. You were not great, but you loved it, with all your heart. There was no space between you and the words, no phrase said without a piece of your heart. I'm told you do not sing anymore, that you quiet your voice. You drew too, better than almost anyone I knew. Fluid motions and concentration. I remember it all. I do not know if you draw, I do not know you. Little girls that were once friends and all I have left are shards of memories. I wish the best in your life, but my fierce little friend. Please do not lose your ferocity, it is my favorite part of you.

Beauty, was the prettiest of us all. She had curves before we even knew people were more than lines and edges. She saw things differently I think. She taught me to see in her ways. Out of the six I was closest to her and I think she taught to me a now unremovable characteristic. Optimism. She saw beauty in people and the world and the longer you stood next to her, you could tell it was only the world reflecting her. She was so many things and it seemed beautiful was all of them .
To the girl I called best friend,
I am sorry for how things ended mostly because they ended horribly on my end and to you they did not at all. I was always angry at all the girls for leaving me alone but you the most . How could someone leave a girl so young? I still do not know the answer and on bad days I am still angry. I am told that out of the six you have changed the most in looks and personality. I see pictures of you and you do not wear colors, only black. It saddens me you were the girl with big eyes full of wonder and hands that were too small to catch. Now I'm told you are not. I'm sorry for always seeing you as beauty, what a burden it must be. Toward the end I think I saw you as more. If only we had the chance to explore.

Kindness, was tall. Taller than us all, a skyscraper in jeans with a hesitant smile and a little brother who annoyed us. Kindness came later in the six, but she was always my favorite. She gave kindness to those who did not deserve it and she gave pieces of herself to people who did not even give glances. She hated crying but she always did. She cried over the people she trusted with her heart. And she cried at her decisions. She taught me that someone does not earn your kindness, kindness should be given with no hesitation or complaint. So, as these years have passed I have tried to live my life this way.

To the girl with two siblings,
When I last knew you, your mom was pregnant. Not even far along enough to know the sex. I'm told it was a boy, another to a company your other brother. Is he tall now, is he proud like you, does he speak in sentence yet? I do not know, I do not have the right to know. But I do know that that little boy has a great big sister. Maybe one day he will be a Skyscraper in jeans. Out of the six, I see us being friends again. There is no reason, no logic just a small hope.
I do not know if you remember but when we were younger you made me things, you were an artist. Just like your heart you gave your pieces away. I still have the two you gave me. I am most proud of your picture frame. Full of only yellow polka dots. Yellow was my favorite color, it still is. And I proud of it because before someone knew multiplication or general geography they knew my favorite color. They knew me. They thought me important. I am proud as silly as it sounds of that and I am thankful for you for paying attention.

Sport, was a sensitive girl with ringlet hair and a small frame. She was not short and she was not tall. She was quiet. But she loved to play games. Her favorite was school and even though it was not a competition she won. We were all teachers and students and principals and she was the winner. She was not a terrible winner. It had always seemed that if she gloat ed her mother would smite her. So she kept to herself, and her smirk when she won. She kept us on our toes and taught us team. She was not a great loser. From her I learned the importance of competition and team.

To my signing ringlet girl,
Do you lose often? I'm told you do but you have not yet learned how to. If you would ever stop to talk to me I'd hold you head between my hands and scold you. You are so much more than you give yourself credit for. You are more than the sums of your parts. You are more than your temper. Sometimes I fear that your little curls would straighten themselves with all the heat that comes from your ears. You do not need to be who I think you have grown into, you do not need to be who I knew but neither does your temper.

Loyalty, was the closest to looking like me. Her hair was darker and she had a mischievous smile. A let's get into trouble sort of look. I knew her the longest. I'll probably stay acquainted with her the longest. She liked few people and had no tolerance for ignorance. She skated around on thin ice with everyone person she'd ever met. I liked that about her. She knew who she was she knew where she belonged. She was loyal to her friends and more importantly to herself. She did not know where she wanted to go, but she knew how she wanted to get there. I have tried with all my might to follow her and in the biggest ways I have.

To that lady's daughter,
The first time I met you I met your mother. I was the first kid she grabbed the first one that looked worth something. I am thankful she said we as something. Tell her I said hello. I have seen you and I have tried to talk to you but there are years between us now. A loyalty hole. A place where old friends and new ones do not know how to live together and become a mess of arms and legs. You have grown out of your skin it seems sometimes. Like there are too many people that own your loyalty and you have not saved enough for yourself. You know who you are old friend and it's time you go back and get her.

This is think is a funny story. None of us had much in common. We were pushed together and became juxtaposition friends. A since your here sort of friend, a you look around my age sort of friend. We were inseparable once how time has changed. The purest of all friendships I think. We did not need things from each other in the beginning or have to prove ourselves we were just a couple a kids thrown together. I am so thankful for who ever that was and I hope you all are too.

P.S. if you were ever angry with me like I you I am so sorry. I never meant it but being intelligence I thought someone would save me for once.

P.P.S You do not have to like this letter or agree with it or admit which of these girls you are but I will not hide it from you so it is here.