Thank You Lillie

Thank you for being my friend, Lillie.

When we met, you were small, crying and shouting, “I don’t like this place.” I saw you. I smiled. You looked at me angrily. Friendship didn’t spark that day.

It didn’t spark when you went to high school for the first time as well. You were all grown up, didn’t shout like then. You had become calm, quiet, and surprisingly alone. You used to seek refuge with me, humming to yourself and singing your hearts out. I heard those melodies with my own ears. I understood Lillie had started to set her priorities. “I might be one of those priorities someday,” I wished.

When I saw you polishing your shoes for your first day at a renowned college, my heart became full of pleasure. The Lillie that shouted, “I will be a doctor someday and treat all of you for free” had come a long way. You couldn’t make your way to Med school. You were sad those days. Depressed. Anxious. I was there with you. I saw those beautiful cheeks getting soaked by drops of pearls from your eyes. I could listen to the thunderous beats coming from your heart. I could see the world shattering before your eyes. I was worried, Lillie.

From then, you realized I was a constant supporter of you. We used to spend more time together. You came to me with books, notes, and AirPods in your ears. Your beautiful silky brownish hair used to fly in the air like the waves of Mississippi river. I saw a fierce determination in those glossy eyes. I told you, “This is the Lillie I was waiting for.” You understood. And now you’re on your way to becoming one of the greatest, one of the finest musicians there is.

You didn’t like trees in your backyard. You believed “Trees took over your precious playground” when you were small. Today when those people your parents sent tried to cut me down, you stood in front of them like a mountain. “No one touches my oak tree! Go do something else.”