The graduation gift Kiran sent me was a small necklace from a store I like called Soulku. Each necklace there has a name, and the one she gave me is called "I love you," with a line below it saying "to the moon and back." The main part is a beautiful lapis lazuli moon and a mica star; she pointed to the moon and said to me, "This is you." She pointed to the star and said, "This is me."
"It means I'm always by your side."
I instantly teared up, and she covered my eyes saying, "Don't cry, you still have to go back to work." I suddenly burst out laughing, blowing a bubble through my nose.
Kiran has been with me through a lot: we sent many emails back and forth before we met, became inseparable best friends as soon as we met, and even started and revitalized a club together. We've been to countless events together, spent countless nights studying together, told countless jokes together, and shared countless tearful stories together. On my tough days, she would hug me tightly over and over, crying and telling me she was always there, urging me not to give up, repeatedly telling me she needed me. When she was under stress, I would comfort her over and over, telling her how excellent she was, trying to ease her anxiety — and inside, I was really anxious for her, resentful on her behalf, and finally broke down crying when she received her acceptance letter: I was so happy, the troubles caused by that mean professor were finally truly behind her.
Over the past three years, I seem to have taken her presence for granted: we are sisters — even though we hadn’t met for the first eighteen years of our lives. Until separation was imminent.
Suddenly, I felt many inexplicable emotions: I was afraid to see her, afraid to sit and study with her again, afraid to create more beautiful memories with her. The last few times I saw her, I couldn't help but cry over the smallest things. This made me feel even more worried and anxious — I feared having a deep perception before parting, making the separation an unbearable thorn in my heart. I don’t know what’s wrong with me: I can sensitively perceive a relationship becoming closer, but this sometimes makes me want to flee — I start to fear having a close relationship that I might lose. I fear that one day I might think, "If only Kiran were here," and then fall apart — I really hate this kind of collapse by comparison, sometimes I would rather have no one to rely on.
For some unknown reason, I put away the necklace she gave me. Because I naively hope that when I really need it, I can take out this necklace to save me once. I hope I can tell myself: "It's okay, remember the necklace Kiran gave you, just put it on, she is with you." I keep the necklace and dare not wear it, because I know I can use it to save myself again on some unknown future day, just like she saved me time and again when she was by my side.
But on the day of the spring awards ceremony, I looked at the necklace and finally decided to wear it. I thought, I should believe she will always be there, just like the necklace I'm wearing, where the star forever accompanies the moon. The professor's speech was about expressing your love in a timely manner. The present is the best gift. I looked at her and said, "You are the best." Then I cried again. She thought I was moved by the professor's speech and kept trying to make me laugh. In reality, I was afraid to imagine: How much time is left? How many more chances will I have to tell her how great she is in my heart?
