She’s a mother figure, and a friend. The first time I met her, I was pretty nervous. I had been in the area, fresh out of the river. I was in my swimsuit, and my hair was a little uncomplacent. I wanted her to like me, I had a giant thing for her son. I was a little on edge but she had invited me over again. I went over almost every day that summer. We all got so close, and I did end up with her son. But, that’s not my point. She’d make sure I eat something, invite me places, ask me to do the highlights in her hair, take pictures, message me routinely to see how my day was going, talk to me about colleges, and anything else that had to do with growing up. When I had a bad day, she’d give me big hugs, and buy me chocolate. I love my biological mother, of course. But she and I aren’t usually on the best terms. She stopped asking how my day was around 8th grade, and I don’t really see her. She’s usually with other people. Which is fine, I don’t need all, or any of anyone’s attention. But having this woman in my life reminded me of what it was like to have a mom. She is outgoing, and plays a big role in my life. 

Sitting on the couch, looking at old photos, trying to get blue hair dye off of my hands with all of the chemicals she had in her cabinet, french braiding her hair and accidentally pulling it, (worrying that I hurt her when in reality,  she said she likes it like that.) Holding onto her so I don’t fall into a stream because I can’t walk on soggy ground in 11 inch heels. I called her work and she picked up the phone, I asked for “Nellie,” and she didn’t know who was calling because usually, I call her “Mom.” Having conversations that lead to changing the name of our group chat to “Wet Spaghetti Noodles,” playing UNO and accidentally flinging my cards across the table at her (only in an attempt to make my cards do a thing and look cool like when they’re shuffled!!) Being chased around for drinking a Monster, covering ourselves in 3 different colors of neon icing and joking about her diabetes, and leaning up from snuggles in our 80’s attire only to break her son’s bed. I don’t want to stop making memories with her. When her son gets moody with her for lecturing him about his grades, I feel the need to explain to him that she is only doing it because she knows his potential, and wants to benefit him. I wished my mother would lecture me about my grades, but now I have somebody who can. 

This assignment was for my Creative Writing class, it’s called “A VIP” It was supposed to be about somebody whose walked in, and walked out and what valuable lesson they taught me. But I can’t meet those terms because everyone who has walked out, has had a negative impact. I didn’t learn anything from them, the only thing I learned was how to hold a grudge, and isolate myself. So I wanted to dedicate it to appreciating somebody who walked in, and has yet to leave. I thought what I had was normal, I thought that everybody’s like that. But she taught me that it’s not, and what normal is like. I could never put into words how much I appreciate her, or her family. I understand this is cringy, and smooshy. I usually write about people who’ve gone crazy, or, um, death. So, I’ve her to tank for being my plot twist. 

If I did have to stick to the terms and agreements of this assignment, when she leaves, (which she isn’t allowed to do for a very long time,) then what she taught me was family, how to spend time with people rather than isolate myself, how to be the people that interrupt the movie theatre rather than the people that complain about those people (I’m not the one who set that fire alarm off! I just laughed, for 10 minutes, like a banshee.) I heart you, Nellie Marie.      

Katelynn Marie.