six

Six years ago, I was working at GapKids, folding and re-folding (and re-folding...) tiny t-shirts and jeans and re-stocking jelly sandals and baby hats.

Six years ago, I was in between my first two years at Berry, feeling more comfortable with the idea of being a college student but still tied to my home in Augusta.

Six years ago, I was redefining myself within my relationships, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse.

Six years ago, I got a phone call from my father. I left mid-shift, probably mid-shirtfold, at GapKids, rushed to the home that was still my home although I only lived there for a few months of the year, and was faced with news that would change how I defined myself forever.

Six years ago, I had to make a lot of phone calls to share the news that I didn't want to believe, let alone pass on.

Six years ago, I lost one of the most amazing and talented people I have ever known. Someone who I looked up to like a brother, respected as an artist, and loved as one of my dearest friends.

And today, six years later, I miss him still.