12 days of heather, day 4

i wrote this series remembering my best friend who was making pastries at windows on the world when she was senselessly killed by strangers with hate in their hearts. it’s been 18 years since i’ve seen her face, put my arms around her, eaten a meal she’s made. i wrote this to feel connected to her. i share it so that you might too.

day four
this is just a simple memory. in 11th grade, the ho family began inviting me (and usually a few others too) to spend new year's eve with them at a very posh celebration at the kahala hilton. coming from a modest background, i always felt dazzled and fabulous going to this party. there were fancy outfits and champagne and horns and party hats and a band. and even though i was a fish out of water, i never felt that way. heather's impulse toward warm inclusion came from her parents mary and stuart, who passed it down to her, peter, and ceci. they always treated me like family. and they will always be family to me.