It has been 1 month since our sister's passing. But the Weeping Cherry Tree has begun to grow leaves. Spring has breathed life into the only thing I can remember her by now. The branches that trail down above our full heights down to - almost - the ground are graceful. They are curved blades of grass that go with the wind. The branches look so much like her hair. I can't get over it.

And all that gossip that happened afterward. It was a shock. An afterthought. A tasteless display of ego. I hated all of it because the words we all heard could never amount to the memorial she needed right in that moment. Qinpei, just like the characters of book, we learn about things past your future and we are mythologizing you at this very moment. In our dreams. You join all of us there, springing forth from the lotus as if you had come to us with a secret you could not possibly tell, but simply teach with your company. I remember the absence of emotions within me, as well as how I pushed you out of my mind after the past school year. I do not regret anything, but think that you were so much like all of us, achieving, loving, and pursuing. After learning more about China and its people during the last quarter of the past year, I think I can fully realize who she was. I don't. Not right now. But the more I find out, despite the fact that we weren't bosom friends or anything like that, she was as essential. She was flesh, bone, blood, and so much more.