Ich wünschte, dass ich sie besser kennenlernen können hätte.

And it kills me.

We, having a lot of the same courses, - though not classes - both had AP World History. One of our assignments was to get a 2020 Review Book at a bookstore. (My teacher recommended going to a bookstore where you could personally see if the book's layout was good; there were many different review books for the course).

It was Monday, 16 December. A school cycle day 5. My favorite day. By this point I had already told my sister about my great liking for Lily. I had long seen Lily has pretty, but on the particular hour from 09:27 to 10:12 that day she was more beautiful then ever.

We had a conversation earlier that school year while outside during a fire drill. Was her hair blonde or brown? I think she said it was brown. But in the late sunrise that morning it shined gold.

It was only a couple weeks before the 16th that I had shared with her some more personal secrets about myself. I felt that I wanted to share, because I wanted to have more connection with her. I think she took it well, but I still don't know. I guess it's a good sign that she didn't run away.

Even more depressing is I don't remember what we talked about that day. I took for granted being able to sit with her. And even now, 8 months later, I'm still crying from pain while typing this.

Over the week I prepared. It was now or never. I was going to ask out a girl.

I realize that we both needed to get school books. I plan to ask her if she could go to Barnes & Noble with me over Winter Break and get them. It will only be a small outing, maybe only an hour, but it would at least get us over the first time together outside school.

On Thursday, 19 December, the anvil dropped.

Lily and I were partners along with two others in an ELA project. We were working on the project before the bell rang, and then she announced that we would be doing the presentation without her. She was moving.

I'd love to say "first of all, who moves their child in the middle of Highschool? My dad was on the edge of working in Minnesota and  we would never have been dragged along!"

But I shouldn't say that. I don't know what Lily's parent's situation is. I know they and Lily are immigrants, the only born citizen being her 7 year old brother. Her father is a physician, not to be confused with a physicist.

The question that ran through my mind for the next two days and the next months forward indefinitely was "What is Love?"

For the day I was trying to comprehend what she told me. I remember that day when we walked out of Chemistry I told her "I'll miss you." I'm glad I did tell her, because I do.

In the afternoon I told my sister what happened. She was empathetic, which was a relief. She seemed to agree with me asking Lily for her e-mail (her parents don't allow her a phone for whatever reason).

I spent the evening hiding my panic on what would happen when I went back to school in the new year of 2020. I didn't want lose contact.

My sister had to do something after school that day, if I recall correctly. That left only me for my dad to pick up. I felt like crying on the way to the car.

I told my father the about Lily, and how tomorrow would be the last day I see her, and about the past two years I'd been developing a friendship with her. I wanted to get it off my chest right there and right then, in the parking lot as the snow reflected the sun toward us, blinding. (Sunny and snowy is her favorite weather.) My dad had apparently told my mom later at some point. I didn't really mind.

The next morning I tried not to make a big deal out of it. I think I said something along the lines of "how will I let you know what the grade is [for the project]? You don't have a phone." And she said she'd give me her email later in the day. Not to be dramatic, but that conversation was the last one we had face-to-face.

I got her personal  email during French class that day via school email (we had been chatting a bit over school email for a little while). We were watching the Polar Express with dubbed French. I wasn't paying mich attention. Rosa wasn't there that day. My sister, in the midst of practicing driving with her new learner's permit, drove us home on that sunny day.

Lily left the next weekend. From New York to Michigan. Her fourth move I think. I made my poetry account private a few weeks after.