Mel

It was the first day of cheer tryouts in 2007. She walked right up to me and stuck her hand out.

"Hi, I'm Melanie." She had a fierce handshake, infectious energy, and ridiculous long blond hair.

She made the team. Not because she was the best girl--in fact she had a hard time holding rhythm back then--but because you just can't cut a girl like that. She's all American, the very epitome of a California girl.

She was special.

She cheered on my team for two years, and I tortured her the entire time. I wasn't hard on her because I didn't like her; in fact it was the opposite. She needed to be pushed harder than the others because she could handle it. She craved it. Needed it to thrive.

After two years, she moved on to high school, went to cheer for a different coach, but our bond had been formed. We moved past the coach/athlete relationship we'd initially cultivated. The closest thing I could call myself was a mentor, but that seemed too...uneven. We settled for defining it as a niece/aunt relationship.
Throughout the course of her high school career, she became a regular in my classroom and in my home. She was the princess, I was the queen. I put her to work doing all the tasks I no longer deemed worthy of my time; pulling weeds, wiping baseboards, scrubbing toilets. In return, I fed her, bought her clothes, and tutored her in math.

She graduated high school in June and turned 18 in July. As soon as she turned 18, our relationship changed. She moved into my house and we began to spend even more time together. I took her on my summer travels to Utah, during which she got to experience her first horse ride, square dance, and driving lessons. I wasn't sure how I'd do being around her that much, because, let's face it, I don't do well with spending that much time with anyone.

Still, as we approached San Diego, after spending nearly every second of the past week together, after a road trip totaling nearly 24 hours...I was sad to see it coming to an end. Even now, 2 months later, I can hear one of our songs, and it takes me back to the drive, where we were somewhere between The Real OC and Flagstaff, where we randomly stopped at a cave, a rock shop, a look out, and I become nostalgic.

Now we're back to our real lives. She's working and doing cheer, so busy I hardly ever see her. I miss her when she's not here, which is saying something considering how much I cherish solitude.

As much as I may have helped her financially or academically, she has helped me emotionally and spiritually. It's weird to think an 18 year-old could have answers and insight that peers my own age don't have, but it's true. She's had struggles in her life that have shaped her into a wise person. She's taught me just as much as I have taught her. She's my sage and I'm hers. Together, we have faced struggles, hardships, and tears. But above all, we laugh--so much--and smile when we're together because, as unlikely as it ever was, we have a the type of relationship that can weather any storm.

Here's to you, my pretty princess. Now go make my dinner.