Dear Rachelle.

They say writing your thoughts and emotions is cathartic. I can't say it is, but I know I wanted to talk to you. Talk to you in a way that other people would know and understand a little bit of what you mean to me. I refuse to say 'meant' because, well, I still feel all the same things I felt when you were alive, probably even moreso.

Where do I start, Rachelle? (This is when you'd smile and chuckle at me, slightly embarrassed.)

I miss you. I miss how you'd hug me as if you hadn't seen me in years, even if it had only been the day before. How I could put away an entire portion of Rendezvous nachos with you beside me, without feeling the slightest bit of embarrassment or remorse. How your facial expressions gave away so much of what you thought and felt. How I always feared waking you up, knowing you love sleep so well. How you would spontaneously dance with me in the middle of campus, or anywhere really. Hand hugs. You and Courtney fighting over whose bed I'd sleep in before Dance Marathon. You coming with me to the powwow, observing my joy at being there. You asking so many questions about my culture, and my ethnic identity journey. Laughing with you. You trusting me with the most fragile pieces of you. Your coming to me for advice when you didn't know what to decide. You messing up my hair, knowing I'd spent too much time on it trying to impress Boy. Your reminders of 'good love' finding me one day. Your ability to make me laugh on the crappiest of days. You being one of the few who visited my room Senior year. ... You daring me to dream for more than what I was willing to settle for, knowing full well it'd be practice for a year or so later...

Our silences. That's what I miss the most. I miss finding you, sitting in any given room with you and just sharing space. I remember the first few instances when it happened on Hedrick 3S, I expected it to be awkward.Yet, it became comforting. Incredibly comforting to sit with you, maybe holding hands ('cause we're cool like that), eating ramen, or Late Night, but sitting in comfortable silence. I'd look over at you and smile, and maybe chuckle. And then poke your side to make you laugh. 

Without words you knew how much I loved you. How much I love you still. And how incredibly grateful I am that you know that. Thanks for all the times you made me laugh, reminded me to dance everywhere, and for making me a friend who knew she was loved by you.

I know you're making Jesus laugh until his sides hurt, eating a ton of delicious food, and dancing your heart out. One day, we'll have the most epic of dance parties.

Hand hugs forever,

Sol