"Oh my God is that Mike!" I scan the room and I see these familiar faces from a past time and it brings a smile to my face. To see these boys I once knew stand as men really messes with my mind and what used to be a huge gap in age is miniscule today. Listening to them talk about their children, where they live now and the adventures they've had, brings comfort to me. As I engage with them, I almost forget why we're all gathered here today.

It wasn't easy for me transitioning to Richmond, it was abrupt and harsh. I was at the most transitional time in my life, on the verge of 13, in a town I knew noone in, with my mom and little brother, who seemed just fine that we uprooted our entire lives to come here. I was quite depressed. I was awkward. My thick glasses and Wrangler jeans were not helping and the scarcity of black people made me nervous. I was also cripplingly shy. These things don't last forever.

Remember the days of being let loose in your neighborhood? You'd go on adventures with those who inhabited the same space as you, discovering things, playing with things you probably shouldn't, obtaining scrapes and bruises, and knowing that you'd better be home in time for dinner? It was a different time. My brother made friends quickly. He didn't suffer from the same handicaps as I did at the the time. He had no problems talking to other kids he didn't know. Soon two small kids with skateboards in their hands would regularly knock on the door looking for my brother. Trip and Brad had become fixtures in our house and they were the initiators of putting a skateboard under my brother's feet. Watching them daily learn new tricks was exciting and I would "take lessons" from my brother when he got home from a day with the guys. I don't think I got passed an Ollie, but my brother was the only friend I had and we had always been close, so this was just another way we would bond. He would show me how to do a hand plant and he'd then put the board in my hand and say, "Ok, now you." I became fascinated by skateboarding and all that encompassed it. Ok, I'll admit, the cute guy factor was also an attraction, but hey, I was 13.

My mom eventually nixed my skateboarding time because she deemed it unladylike, very much to my dismay. Enter rebellion. Instead of being in Ridge theater, I would be behind it, skipping the movie I told my mom I'd be at, just to see the guys skate around. If you haven't met mother, you'd not know her detective skills are high ranking. I was busted about a million times for that move, even if I had read the synopsis of the movie in the paper before leaving the house. There was no convincing mom that skateboarding does not contribute to pregnancy.

By the time the year had passed and I began to acclimate, my brother had skated with everyone in the area, even the older guys. While I sat in my room at night, I'd open the window just to hear the landing of wheels from ollies over trash cans and kickflips from the high school stairs. I was shocked to meet some "older" guys there one evening who discovered who I was. "Wait, you're Joe Breaux's sister!!!" That's all it took, by the time High School began I had a set of friends who became my crushes, my protectors, and friends who would open up my artistic and musical world...until they graduated a year or two later.

I met Jake during this time. Jake and my brother were good friends and skated together pretty regularly. He had these pretty blue eyes and the sweetest smile. There was an impishness to him and an enigmatic energy to him and although younger, he was crushable, but the 4-5 year gap made these friends more like additional little brothers to me. He was a good skater. I remember sitting there watching the guys make their passes and I kept a mental note of who I thought were the "raddest shredders." Jake definitely stood out. He always had a smile on his face or laughing or sometimes just quiet. I always felt as though he knew a secret you didn't but he'd wouldn't share it with you unless you figured it out on your own. As I look at the photos on the mantle, that dark hair that used to flop over his eyes, those blue eyes that filled with kindness, I'm reminded that this isn't some high school reunion.

This past year, I suffered from anxiety like I've never had before. If you've ever felt what that feels like, it isn't fun. You feel completely helpless and even though you are working it out rationally in your head, something triggers these insane thoughts you can't get rid of and your body reacts to that. This past year, I'd go nights without sleeping and I found myself very disconnected. I stopped listening to people, I found myself uncomfortable around loud noises and groups, and I spent a lot of time getting worked up about Facebook posts and why I wasn't good enough for some of my friends. That leads to obsessive thoughts which leads to even more anxiety. I don't know what happened to me to make me start going through these episodes and I was lucky enough to calm myself through natural remedies such as Melatonin and Bach's Flowers. I have friends who never find relief from this and I feel for them because I know that cannot be an easy thing to deal with on a regular basis and a lot people I know self-medicate because they don't know how else to control it. I'm no expert in this realm, I am still trying to figure out why I go through it from time to time. I would brush people off who told me they had this ailment because I thought it was just in their heads, that their minds were weak. Well aren't I judgey. I'm embarrassed and apologetic to all I thought this about. My point here is to say, "Hey, I get it now."

In 8th grade, I developed a very deep crush on a skater who happened to be the brother of Brad whom my brother was best friends with. I really do have a brother theme going on. Needless to say, after a few humiliated attempts at his attention, and a graduated "hey, how's it goin'" in the hallways, I was happy for any exchange. As I stand here now talking to him after years gone by about career and family, it seems so silly how afraid I was to talk to him for the 5 years of school we had together. He's still handsome and smart He still probably listens to the same records and I'm sure he reminisces about those hot afternoons skating around with Jake and the rest of them. Oh, how we've all grown up.

I'm very thankful for the bonds I have with these guys. Some of them I haven't seen since high school, but there's something about those connections that surpass the future ones and maybe I'm clinging to nostalgia here, but I love to hear where life took these young skater punks and how they've gotten to the men they are now. I also think they were there for my brother and I, when we were going through a huge pivotal point in our lives and truth be told, if it weren't for those times behind Tuckahoe Middle School or on the steps of Freeman High School, I would have never discovered what it felt like blasting Agent Orange from my bedroom window or what it was to be free.

The last time I heard from Jake was a year after returning to Richmond. He sent me a Facebook message asking how I was doing and if I was back in Richmond. I replied happily and suggested we hang soon. Jake was one of those people in my life that no matter how long it had been since our last correspondence, there was no time passed when we saw each other. That smile, those pretty blue eyes. I find that I'm at these things more often these days. That my reunions are bonded through grief and unexpected losses. We went from running around our neighborhoods to finding out our friends are engaged through a post or that a dear friend has left this realm on a feed. I wish that I had spent more time with Jake. We would talk about music as we once did and I'd encourage him to show his art and he'd talk to me about his last meal. That smile, those pretty blue eyes. I will miss him and the role he played in my life. Some of us lose the battle, I just wish we could have fought in it for him.