"More than a stunning debut. It is the announcement of a bold new literary voice"
—Stephen Chbosky, author of The Perks of Being a Wallflower

This year you would be a senior. On the brink of crossing over into almost adulthood. I wonder where you would have gone to college? Being a freshman in high school is pretty overrated. I know you never got to experience it, but be glad. Friend drama really sucks. But, I don’t think you would have had any problems with it. You were always so level-headed, and your friends were nice too, or the ones I met anyways. But, that was a long time ago. And I was like 11. Or 10. I remember your friends sleeping over for your birthday, and I remember the surprise phone you got. It had a keyboard. You thought it was the best. I thought it was the best. I remember crying when my mom came to pick me up, because I wasn’t allowed to stay over. I remember us plus all of our cousins putting on skits for our family. Eating at mamaw’s house every single Sunday. After we ate, we would go out to the rodeo pen and play in the stables. Running around the maze of bars that made up the pen. Messing with the cows, horses, and pigs that it held. We would swing on the wooden swing, or play tag on the hay bales. We would have nice, long talks about everything walking on those dirt roads that led to and from mamaw’s house. We would go to that amazing treehouse, or go to your house and play. I remember when you didn’t have any shoes, so you and I drove to your house to get some shoes for you. I thought you were the coolest, because you could drive. I remember when we would walk on the train tracks and pick up all the nails that had come loose and were lying on the tracks. I remember riding go carts with you late at night through the fields beside your house. On Halloween you would always get so much candy on the hayride, I would watch your every move so I could have a shot of getting as much as you got. Remember when we used to play at New Hope church? We would run down all the halls. We pretended to sing in the mics in the sanctuary. We even went behind the sanctuary walls and pretended to baptize each other one time. We went to a baby shower there once, and while you were signing the guest book, your hair caught on fire. Well, only a little bit. It was hilarious though. I watched the whole thing unfold, I couldn’t stop laughing. Your hair was another thing that made you so unique. It was a red like no others I had ever seen. It was like a fire red. And you had so many freckles, they created constellations on your face similar to those in the night sky. No one had anything bad to say about you. Seriously. You were so close to perfect. But maybe, if you would have gotten to the hospital earlier, you would still be here, setting an example for me and the other cousins. Kelsi, I don’t understand. You were a fighter. You were so strong and brave. Why did you go brain dead? Was there nothing there you could hold on to? Was it sad when everything you ever knew or remembered vanished? My parents wouldn’t let me go to the hospital. They would let me say bye for the last time. I still have your picture on my wall, of when you were 13. Every relative has the same picture in their house. I think the only reason you left was because you were here to bless our family, to keep it together, to set examples, and then leave because you didn’t deserve to live on this harsh earth. You were much better than that. You deserved better. It was your time. But, I just wish I could still talk to you about things. The last conversation we had, was over text. You sent me a picture of yourself with your hair going in every direction and asked me if that was a good hairstyle for crazy hair day. I thought it was perfect. I remember getting the news. I asked my moms friend, who was baby sitting me at the time, if you had passed. When she said yes, I ran to my room and cried for hours and hours. After your death, my family asked me to write a poem about you. I felt so special. It was read at your funeral. My family looked at me as my mom was reading it and they loved it. I’m still writing peoms to this day. In 6th grade, one of my teachers asked me to write about someone who had an impact on my life, my essay was going to be published and put in a book. I wrote about you. My essay won second place. My entire family bought a copy of the book and cried when they read it. I cried when I wrote it. I just want to say thanks. You’ve impacted my life so much. There were so many more memories I could have included, but my thumbs probably would’ve fallen off. You inspire me. I’m inspired by your courage, and your fight. I strive to be half the person you were everyday. I want to live my life to the fullest in honor of you because yours got cut short. See you on the other side kels.