My Girl
I’m with one of my favorite people in one of my favorite cities this week as we close out July. It’s a strange feeling, to be here with this person that I hold so dearly, this person that has been my kindred spirit through so many things in a city that we both love so much. I’ve loved Chicago for a long time, but I’ve loved Janna even longer. It’s her birthday this week, so I thought I’d say a few things about her.
When we met for the first time, I was a shy sixth grader in my church youth group, and she was my youth group leader. She maintained that role for a few years but became more than that over time. I don’t think there was any rhyme or reason to it. She was in a city without her family, and we were glad to make her part of ours. I don’t remember those years as well as I probably should, but I do remember her being around, day after day, up for whatever adventure came along.
I have many fond memories of us over the years: walking to Dairy Queen in my bright white tutu after my ballet recital, seeing Wicked for the first time, too many ice cream runs to count, making boats to race down the gutter on rainy days and more. So much of my late childhood was fortified by playfulness as I struggled to find my place in it all, and that play was encouraged and prioritized by her.
The years that we spent together in Houston weren’t always easy for either of us. Middle school is certainly no breeze, and neither of us loved Houston. There were weeks when she missed her family back East and weeks when I found it difficult to share her with the rest of my family (as she had become a part of it herself). There was no roadmap, but there was comfort in her unfailing presence. At the end of those hard nights, we were always up for a walk to get ice cream or a movie night just the two of us.
As I sit here in her Chicago apartment, soaking in the symphonies of the city (a saxophonist playing in the apartment below us accompanied by the jackhammer across the street), I can’t help but think of this life that she has here and how badly I miss her most days. I was fortunate to have her by my side in the years that I probably needed her most, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t yearn for those late night ice cream runs or boat races on the few rainy days we have in sunny Southern California.
Nevertheless, the life she’s built in this city is so big and beautiful, and it is a testament to her loving nature that I’ve already met several of her friends since I’ve been here. She is one of the strongest people I know, but more than that, she is tender, willing to get on her hands and knees to do the things that take hard work and discomfort, and she consistently shows up for the people that she loves. Her community here in Andersonville is fortunate to have her, just as I am fortunate to still have her by my side after all these years.
P.S.
We had ice cream for dinner. It seemed fitting.
