I still can’t believe it. How is it possible? Every day I catch a glimpse of you in twenty different people; a person’s hair, their face, even the clothes they wear – always bright because you would never wear black. There’s something about a person, but what’s missing is your infectious smile- the (sometimes maniacal) laughter I see you in these people and every time my heart jumps. Every time. Still. A split second later rationale kicks in and my heart sinks. What I wouldn’t give. I’ve never known anyone like you, and I’m willing to bet that I never will again. You liked me for who I was, not what you could get out of me. Never have I known someone who I felt did understand where I was coming from. I could, and did, tell you anything, I knew your opinion of me wouldn’t change because of something small – like forgetting to call. You included me. Whenever there was “something going on” you made the effort to get me involved. I didn’t have the transportation, so you’d come flying down the street in your blue pickup and I’d climb into the cowskin-patterned seat. Kicking juice boxes out of the way. I remember when you called me saying he’d broken your heart. We went out and got ice cream, (you never let me feel bad about splurging on ice cream) and planned to watch movies all night. Right. I don’t think we ever made it through more than a half hour of anything we tried to watch. Often, as I walk around campus, or am sitting in lecture, I’ll see someone who looks like you. Sometimes I let myself believe it is you, but we’ve only fallen out of touch. You’re happy, still leading a fun life, and though we don’t talk I’m happy that you’re just there. I miss you so much, Emily.