She is sunshine spackled on the bottom of a too-turquoise pool in the first days of July so gasping-hot with your friends in a barely-broken-in bikini.

She is the creak of an old swing straining higher-higher-higher to bruise the eggshell-sky for the last time before you jump and fly and land in a green plush carpet

She is the softness of a new marshmallow melting in a mug of Mom's homemade hot chocolate in snowball hands.

She is the hope of a new day, a young year, another chance.

She is also the slow stone in your stomach when the other foot falls where you knew it would.

She is a bear hug.
She is a flowering tree.
She is a warm cookie.
She is an expected sadness.

She is The Laughing One.
She is my friend.