“Cecy, tell us a story,” Luna said as we sat in her parents’ kitchen. She listened as I began unveloping the story of when I asked my high school crush to prom. She learned about how I made him a button with the big question. I bought him a balloon, planned the timing, and even asked him in German (it was our thing). All of that, and yet, he said he would think about it.

Luna asked in anticipation, “And then what happened?”

“Well, I end up going to prom with my best friend. We were on the dance floor when, low and behold, the guy shows up with ANOTHER girl. I was crushed.”

“Oh, Cecy…”

“Yeah,” I laughed, “I cried the whole way home. But that Monday I made it very clear he had messed up. He arrived, sat in front of me, and I went about my day like any other. He later turned around and said I looked beautiful that weekend. ‘Mmhmm,’ I said without looking at him. Silence. ‘That girl I went with was my cousin,’ he added. ‘Mmhmm,’ I said.”

“And then what happened?” Luna asked.

“We talked about what happened. I told him how what he did hurt me. He could have just been honest. I can’t remember if he apologized, but all I know is that I was so stinking proud of myself for mustering up the courage to ask my crush to prom.”

“Wow, Cecy,” Luna laughed, “I like it when you tell us stories.”

So, Luna, if you’re reading this, thank you for always allowing me to share my stories with you—your asking for them made me feel loved and helped me continue doing the thing I loved, which is to story tell. Thank you, Luna.