February 23, 2003

Dear Amira,

Sometimes when I'm laying in my room reading, I can hear you singing through the wall. I always put down my book and close my eyes and just listen, because you have a way of making any song, any ordinary song, extraordinary. There are angels in your voice, and there are instruments that I can't even imagine, but I can hear them when you sing. But I also know that like most beautiful things, there is sadness in your song.

You talk about driving away, just leaving for some unknown destination in search of less hurt, more harmony, more anything but what you are going through now. Amira, I wish I knew how to make things better for you. The truth is, I don't know anything to say or do to fix things, and although I can say "its going to get better", thats just speculation. Because I don't know.

But I do know this: You bring light to my life. You are a diary and a singalong and a much needed laugh. You have so much talent in your mind and heart and body and it is impossible for you to contain it inside, though you often doubt it is there. But I can see it so clearly. And I know that when you sing, you create the harmony that you are craving in your life. I can hear it so crisply, and I wish with all my heart that you could hear the beautiful sounds you create.

So if you ever feel the need to get in to a car and drive after your happiness, I just ask that you take me with you. Because I will never, ever know another like you.

Always,
Lara