I say thank you to the ones I needed before I knew I needed them.

I say thank you.

From the bottom of my gut and the base of my throat. I croak out these 2 words with all the energy I have because I’m not sure you’ll be able to hear otherwise. I no longer want them to slosh in the back of my gums waiting for us to find each other’s orbit. I realize that some planets just might never cross paths again.

So I say it here. Grounded in the hope that pen and paper and visualising these words on a white computer screen will bring them straight to your doorstep, awaiting your arrival to unbox their sweetness and be heard.

How do I say thank you?

Thank you to the wombs that gave us life and the hands that cared for our helpless mass before we could satisfy our own needs and care for our own souls.

Thank you to both because many times they were not one and the same.

Thank you to older sisters that navigated this world’s treacherous terrain before our existence and drew us a map. The routes would always change, but you still tried to take us in the right direction .

Thank you for teaching us to read, even though it was never your job to help us grasp words on paper that ultimately gave our lives new meanings and possibilities.

Can I say thank you?

Thank you to the kindergarten teachers that always waited for every single one of us to get home.

Thank you for the “best attendance” pizza parties that taught us how to make fundamental skills feel like a reward.

Thank you for the scholastic book fairs that showed us a life outside our walls and the libraries for stocking most of these stories for free.

Is thank you enough?

Thank you to grandmothers who always picked you up halfway, rain or shine. Slowly climbing up the hill with hands behind their backs and warm words to fill your heart.

Thank you to the best friends who walked home with us every day, even though we all already knew the way.

Thank you to the Gifted Ed teachers that hugged us before we transferred to new schools and told us everything would be okay.

Thank you to the friends who hand wrote letters every week for years when that took you to different places.

Should I say thank you?

Thank you to high school math teachers that believed in your potential. Enough to gift you a graduation laptop because everyone needs one for college.

Thank you to the soccer coaches who helped you open your first bank account for the same reasons.

Thank you to the librarians that still checked in even after we left because they knew that would mean something to you.

When will I say thank you?

Thank you to the fathers that can say it out loud, “I’m proud of you.”

Thank you to friends who didn’t lose your number and still messaged after all those years. The ones that did, but still found you on Instagram and LinkedIn.

Thank you to managers for giving your resume a chance even though you were fresh out of school.

Thank you to mentors that supported you when you didn’t have a clue how to participate in the game called capitalism.

Thank you to the coworkers that feel like family and actually treat you that way.

Thank you to the colleagues that let your deadlines slip for the soul crushing work, but hold you accountable for the projects that give you meaning.

Thank you to the shitty exes who taught you lessons and the great ones that taught you love.

Let me say thank you.

Thank you to the universe for connecting our lives with thin threads that were allowed to grow and shrink over time, but never break. For giving us the chance to cross paths in a world where chance is 1 in a million. For bringing our souls to cross and touch and intertwine in the right ways for us to end exactly where we should be.

I am saying thank you.

I’ll scream it.

Yell it.

Cry it.

Whisper.

All for you to feel the warmth of gratitude in the folds of your skin and on the tip of your fingers. Like a warm soup filling you from the group with the nourishment you didn’t know you craved.

I want us to find each other again so I can gift you these words on a gold studded plate. Bow my head and offer you the highest form of flattery: appreciation. Appreciation that you can keep forever and hold close to your beating heart just as the gratitude has lived forever next to mine.