Hey, Remember When?

Hey, Holly….

Remember when we were in kindergarten, and you were so quiet hiding behind your helmet of black shiny hair, and you still went by your Vietnamese name? Remember how Mrs. Fong would always give us hot tea and almond cookies?

Remember when we were on the playground in first or second grade, swinging on the monkey bars and a group of kids came over and started teasing you? Remember how they stretched their eyes with their fingers and chanted “Chinese, Japanese, dirty knees?” at you? Remember how they kept saying you were from China? Remember when I marched up to them, jabbed my finger in a boy’s chest, and said, “ACTUALLY, she is from Vietnam, not China. Not that it matters – who cares even if she WAS Chinese?”

Remember when we would sit next to each other at computer lab, with those ancient old computers that didn’t even have a mouse? Remember how we would play the lesser-known sibling of the Oregon Trail, called “Freedom!” where we played escaped slaves from a plantation running to freedom? Remember how we would still play it, laughing mischievously, after the district banned the game for the racist content it displayed? You texted me recently to ask me if I remembered, because you weren’t sure if it actually happened. It happened, and yes, I remember. How could I forget a game that terrible and hilarious?

I remember.

Remember when we were learning about STDs and “maturation” and we watched a video about AIDS and HIV? Remember how some kids were trying to convince you that you had AIDS because of something to do with your lips?

Remember how, on our hot windy Santa Ana days, your asthma would flare up so badly you couldn’t play outside at recess? Remember when I would sit with you at the nurses’ office so you wouldn’t be alone? Remember how you wanted me to play solitaire, and I kept trying to tell you that its called SOLITAIRE not DUET, and that I hated card games? Remember that strong, sour odor of the room and the hard, metal chairs that had those screws that kept catching and pulling out our hair?

Remember when you were finalizing the paperwork to be adopted and you were in charge of picking out your own name? Remember sitting together, coming up with ideas? Remember how you wanted to pick “Berry” so you’d be “Holly Berry” but I suggested that you change the spelling so it wasn’t so, you know, on the nose, so you became Holly Barrie?

I remember.

Remember how we would play “spy” on our bikes, spending hours riding around our neighborhood, reporting back to each other on a pair of walkie talkies about suspicious people? Remember how you started talking to some trucker on the CB radio and we would giggle and say ridiculous things? Remember how I would write you notes and stick them in the bushes out front of your house, so when you were in trouble and grounded, you could still get some mail?

Remember how you taught me the word “tangible?” Remember you had a poster of a wave on your wall and you taught me about tsunamis? Remember the summer you kept using the word “mental” as a substitute for “crazy” and it drove me, well, mental? Remember when you loved the song “Broken” but weren’t allowed to sing it because it had the word “naked” in it?

I remember.

Remember when I washed my hands at your house, when I was 10 or so, and went to dry my hands on the towel rack but accidently yanked down the whole shelf? Remember the noise it made, all your mother’s teapots and cups, as they crashed and broke into a million pieces?

Remember the dark room with the small TV where we would watch Shirley Temple movies at your house? Remember the large cabinet with stacks and stacks of VHS tapes next to the television, so many it spilled out onto the floor?

Remember those hot, long summer days you would splash around with me in my pool and when we saw “Big Fat Greek Wedding” together because you absolutely adored it? Remember how we went to the movies in our swim suits?

Remember in 6th grade when we did that huge production of MacBeth and you were Banquo? And I called you banquet?

Remember when you spent the night at my grandma’s house and you took a portable radio into the bed with us because you wanted to listen for the song “Frozen” by Madonna and I yelled at you because I was tired but then we heard the song and I understood why you were so obsessed with it?

Remember?

Remember?

I will.

Because you are no longer here.

So, I’ll do the remembering for the both of us, for now. Until we meet again, old friend.

I love you.

I miss you.