Dear Annais

Dear Annais,
Remember the time Valerie stickered the lamp post with the pink KZSC radio monster? It was October 2011, we were in New York City and you were showing us around. We ended up eating French fries on some Manhanttan stoop; I believe you told us they were the best French fries in town. I plan to come back to that stoop, maybe even with some more of those fries, and hope to see that sticker, weathered by time, still on that lamp post.

My Annais, I don't have many memories with you and it breaks my heart. And although you left me, although you left everyone too soon, but not too long ago, I feel like the few memories I do have are fading from clips to pictures; all I can do is pray that the pictures don't become faded pieces of paper in my memory. But there is something, someone, maybe it is you, telling me I will never forget, they will never fade. I will remember, love, and miss you, regardless of time.

Annais, I'm writing you today to tell you of my travels. Your life, your aspirations for the future, your smile and laughter, it all inspires me to continue. Continue what? you might ask. To be honest I don't know, but I have begun. I have started and will continue seeing the world, listening to unknown languages and unknown musics.

I have done and learned much. In September, I started in Grenoble, as an aupair. It didn't work out at all, I had a bad experience but I learned from it, and learned even more about myself. But while in that city, I saw beautiful mountains and even had some poetic moments. I used my weekends to see my family, my father's side to whom I felt so disconnected from during my childhood. As things went sour while being an aupair, I found the support and love of my family, and with that support I found the inner strength to stand up for myself, to not put up with bullshit. End of October, I walked away from my life as an aupair, fully knowing, to quote my aunt, je "ne serais pas a la rue". Things seemed to work out perfectly, I found a real job a few weeks later and an apartment a month after that, all in the same town of Saint Germain au Mont d'Or. After being the homeless American cousin for two months, I finally have a place of my own. I got the keys December ninth. I wish you could visit and see it, I really think you'd like the little corner of the world I have started to make for myself. Between all that, I took a trip to Scotland for a week in November, stayed with some friends I made back in August. To quote you, it was "mad brick tits cold outside", but I managed to still have fun (perhaps even too much. I had to let off some steam to say the least), it is a beautiful place and the Scotish are so kind and good-humored. For Christmas, I spent a week in Chevreaux with my cousin and her family (little fact, it is my grandfather's hometown). I even went cross country skiing with them, confirming my claim that I am not an athelet.

A new years resolution of mine was to see this new year in a new country, and I have, in France. Perhaps I should keep that as a fixed resolution, and change the country each year. It hurts me when I think of the coming year, a year without you. All I can do is honor your spirit. Year-round, meet new people, share and celebrate with them, as I think you would and would want me to.

It is a strange feeling, being far from home, far from friends and family, far from the familiar. I will be honest with you, I may put on a mask of a strong independent woman who takes on the world with no regrets, but I sometimes feel like a little lost girl scared in this wide world of ours. I have done quiet well for myself: a job, an apartment, and family around me. So you probably wonder why I worry, why be scared? I wish had an answer, if I did I probably wouldn't have written to you.

What I am certain about, what never changes, is that although my friends are far, you are not. I can weather any change, any obstacle, anything as long as I know you are with me, looking out for me (yet again, you have probably so many friends in heaven it isn't easy keeping track of eveyone. Tell me, are the bagels better up there?).

I haven't seen much of this world, but what litle I have seen I wish I could show you. What little I have learned I wish I could share with you.

Annais, I miss you terribly. I think I speak for everyone when I say, we all miss you terribly.

I love you.
Jacqueline