dear birthday bink:

may 16th, 1990. that night as i sat on grandpa's lap begrudgingly watching Planet of the Apes, i couldn't stop thinking about how empty the house was without mom and dad. i didn't understand what was taking them so long. i felt restless. and i could sense change, sense that things were not going to be the same when they returned, and i wasn't sure i liked it. what i didn't know was that this particular change in the life of kristen michelle was going to be a good change.  a phenominally good change.  a change that would unfold to be a continuous source of happiness and laughter and support and friendship.

nineteen years later, i would like to say that those uncomfortable hours of uncertainly spent without mom and dad were an incredibly small price to pay for all that i have received in return. i hope you know how much you are loved by me and so many others who have had the privilege of crossing paths with you. you shine so much brighter than you believe.

i can't wait for you to wake up tomorrow morning so i can give you a birthday hug, pat down your frumpy morning hair, and say, "you're looking well, marguerite." to which you will most likely roll your eyes and let out a little laugh of disbelief that i still find saying that quote so very enjoyable.

your day is going to be a good one.  i can feel it. ( i feel it in my fingers, i feel it in my toes.)

dear alana,

sometimes when i can't sleep at night i lay there and replay the unfolding of our friendship; how we grew from being two small strangers exchanging shy smiles while our dads chatted in the oasis dining hall to being so close that when i mention your name to people it doesn't seem like nearly enough to simply refer to you as "my friend".  i think about those early high school years when we shared forced conversation over board games at family gatherings and both secretly wished it were someone from our own seperate cliques we were spending time with instead.  i think about the time i found you sitting outside the counceling center, fighting the tears of a broken heart onset by the recent news that your current crush was in fact moving away.  i think about track and how the bout of nausea i had to endure before each and every race was worth it because it gave me the opportunity to see you in a different light and recognize that we have far more in common than i thought.  i think about my senior year and the way you supported me when i broke my jaw and when i thought i was in love and when it felt like i was falling apart from having to say so many goodbyes.  i think about norway and how you kept your promise to "keep in touch" by sending a steady stream of letters and packages and cheerful notes to kindly let me know that i had not been forgotten.  i think about the first time i saw you after a whole year of being away and how i couldn't keep the tears from spilling over in response to the joy welling up in my heart.  i think about those colorful six months we spent taking the streets of taichung by storm, enjoying countless trips to feng jia and yi zhong, sipping at least two teas a day, being (overly)supportive sports fans, darryl-do-you-daring, looking after shaq and a whole slew of other kiddies, bugging amy, distracting paul from his homework, sleeping over, picture taking, and of course, night riding.  i think about that day that i mournfully watched your car disappear from sight; that day that my eyes never lost their glisten and i was sure that at least half of my heart had driven away with you.  i think about my unexpected trip to new zealand and our two weeks filled with classic moments including me almost spilling milo on your aunt&uncle's super expensive couch, finding smeagol behind the rock, andrew burning the sausages, riding the bloody bus, and of course, sleeping in several inches of water in two terribly damp sleeping bags thanks to a terrible rain storm that decided to bless us with its presence during our final night of camping.

i have to admit that the parade of memories usually stops here, not because that's where things end, but because i have been laying there long enough that my eyelids have grown heavy and i find myself drifting so peacefully upon the gentle waves of happiness lapping against the edges of my soul that it's difficult not to fall asleep.  if i were to continue on, however, i would think about my twenty-first birthday and how your voice miraculously echoed through our kitchen when i was sure that i wouldn't be seeing the likes of you for at least another week.  i would think about the way you lit up our house on ceres hill road, reminding me how to laugh and showing such enthusiasm about the simplest things (like meeting the three hundred cows next door) and not minding a bit when the worst winds in sixty years blew the lights out and we had to finish cooking our chicken dinner over a candle flame.  i would think about your nutcracker ballet suprise and our post-christmas present exchange with shelley and the disgust that played across your face when a certain young lad couldn't seem to keep his hand off your thigh as we sat round the campfire singing in the new year.  i would think about our summer reunion during which you nearly burned the house down toasting a poptart, i got my first parking ticket (no thanks to you and teri), and we decided that our greatest gift is probably hair modeling, although witnessing your ability to make soft-serve ice cream look like a piece of art has me re-thinking that.  i would think about paul and i's skype sessions with you and the way that it never felt like you were on the other side of the world, especially when we broke out the guitar and whipped up a k&pmac original on the spot just for you. and i would think about getting to stand right behind you on one of the most important days of your life, my insides a colorful blend of the many emotions that come with watching someone so dear join lives with the one she loves.

each time i review the moments we've shared, there are two things i always want to call you up and tell you: the first is thank you for everything.  and the second is, so i've got this joke for you. i might not tell it very well because it's been awhile since i've had to opportunity to bless anyone with the enjoyment of it, but here goes. no, seriously, my MOM thinks it's really funnny. so here it is. no, it's not the one about the man in the chicken suit, just listen, okay? it involves a dog, two slices of bacon, and a pair of bowling shoes.

alana. why are you laughing? all right. that's it. i'm not telling it.

i love you forever.