
By: Gabriela Yareliz
Today, I walked down the street with one of my best friends. As we walked, I remembered how we would walk to school together— dweeby middle schoolers with acne, insane hormones, sometimes horrible bangs and uncomfortable shoes that we swore were cool but made our feet bleed. In the whirlwind of pads, band-aids and flavored lip glosses, we were sassy, curious and always trying our best. We schemed and plotted. We spent hours on the phone. We lived in a Lizzie McGuire world. Our rooms had stacks of CDs, magazines, boomboxes in our favorite colors, curling irons on and pots of glitter for moments of shimmer.

These were the days before the lights got shut off in our respective lives by different series of events and loss. We were in our bubble, and it hadn’t burst yet. They were the intact days. The days of music videos on TV before school and stalking boy crushes. Her days of ballet, and my days of collages and writing short stories in Microsoft and making covers with clip art. The days of book reports and bs-ing school newspaper articles to meet deadline (mostly me). Days at the ice cream parlor in town and getting invited to the country club to go swimming. Evenings spent on AIM getting the town tea. Adolescence at its finest.

She is the Paris to my Nicole.
And today, there we were. Both married, one of us a mom. We have come out on the other side of so much life lived in survival mode. Now, we have lives filled with laptops we want to throw off a canyon, blazers, liquid liner, blush that makes us look alive, strapless bras we hate, and thankfully, full wallets. We have good husbands (those dweeby boys in middle school couldn’t hold a candle- jk jk hopefully, they turned out ok), and we are taller (me, not so much), wiser, with better skin, and still in love with glitter (secretly, but also, not so secretly).


We looked back a little. We laughed a lot. We joked about the velour suits we still gravitate toward and talked about the future. Not everything has changed. Some things stay the same.
And when we hugged, it was the type of hug that reminds you that someone isn’t letting go of you. It’s that knowledge that whispers to you while you wave as the Uber pulls away— We are unbreakable. This is sticky like glitter— this is a forever thing.
Sanasa.





