My friend Stella

Exactly a month ago, I was sitting on the sidewalk with Stella and she had one skinny arm around my own skinny shoulders.

She'd hugged me before she left and was crying in my neck. "Joy! I'll miss you," she had said to me.

No, Stella, it is I who will miss you.

Thank you for the opportunity to work with you. Yes, you are only 8 but your maturity surpasses that of many people I know. Your professionalism amazes me to no end. You're punctual almost to a fault. You have such good manners that I can't help wishing that every child I come across would be half of what you are. You greet me with a smile everyday without fail. And you've never failed to thank me whenever I do something for you.

I remember that day, when I fell at the jetty and into the boat. You asked me over and over again if I was alright. And you offered to hold my hand as we walked to the unit base. All the way, you tried telling me a story about how the exact same thing happened to you the day before. You struggled with the language, apologizing for not being able to tell the story properly. You said to me that you would tell me again in 2 weeks, when your English was better.

You made my entire month, Stella Kunkat, on the day you held my hand.

And now that you're back home in Germany, I can't help but wonder if you remember those months you had spent here.

I can't help but wonder if you missed me, the way I'm missing you now.