Today the world (or the microcosm in which I live) celebrates the birth of one of my all time favorite people. 20 some odd years ago today (I'll keep it vague, for you Hannah) Hannah was born into this dreary world, and instantly, it seemed a little brighter.
My friend Hannah, the grass loving desert dweller. The rescuer of forlorn and pitiful looking eighth grade girls. The Janice Joplin fan. Hannah, whose artistic side took me a long time to recognize, and I know realize is an inherent part of her. My friend Hannah, who I am fairly sure in high school was composed of 40% pool water, and 60% chocolate.
I'll never forget the first night I met Hannah. I was at a sleepover, at the home of a woman I did not know, surrounded by girls I had never met before. I remember there were brownies, and we watched a Chris Farley movie. Hannah made me feel comfortable (as much as that is possible, when you're the only stranger in a room full of teenage girls at a sleepover) and she told me what I needed to know about starting middle school in the United States: mainly, I remember her warning me that each class had a specific color coded folder. She probably had no idea how grateful I was (still am) that I wouldn't look a fool in at least one area.
Thank you Hannah. I miss you. Happy Birthday.