I don't have any brothers or sisters, but Marisa comes as close to kin as possible without sharing DNA. We've known each other so long we often forget how we met, but the answer is music, the neighbourhood, life. We've traveled, toured, performed in strange places, had huge fun. The only point we ever disagree about is the nature of time. She thinks there is plenty available and tells me not to worry. I'm convinced that there isn't enough to accomplish everything that needs doing. Somewhere in the middle of that debate, we find each other, even if we have to fly across the world. When I die, she will be in charge of burning my notebooks. While I'm alive, she is the only person who knows (or guesses) what is written inside.
It would be impossible to exaggerate how important her friendship is to my entire family; we love her, and miss her every day, even nine years after we moved away from Portland. One week wandering around London was not enough, but it was excessively awesome: