Boston No. 23

Jessica Chiang, Western COMP, MS3

On the 4th floor we studied angiogenesis and its effects on adhesions; faithful to the Mets, you listened to the game while suturing the last control group; I never understood your fidelity for the sport but it was what made you happy and focused; two goals I needed to strive for that year.

I tried, but you were the only Yankee I wanted to follow.

Once, I sat across a man who delivered that year's fate; I needed a yes, but instead was told no.

All the strength I had saved and recycled for the past 3 years was not enough to carry me to the next room. They slid and streaked and washed away the facial expression I thought would protect me forever, exposing how faithful I had become to a dream I thought I could achieve.

That summer we worked alongside each other in hopes of one day making a difference in the scientific research world; with shelves of buffers and solutions between us, you shared your story, your haven and your confidence in me.

An instructor of science.
A volunteer in Haiti.
A faithful follower.
A soon to be healer.

Your presence in my life saved me once.

Around your pure goodness I was safe from all that made me doubt; remarks that made me hurt; and outcomes that stole my spirit. You made me invincible. And with your smile and gentle concern you made me want to do great things.

I think of you often and wonder:

If your sister held flowers on her wedding day.
If you remember what I wore that morning in the South End.
If you really wanted that job at the bakery,

If you walked or caught a bus to Hynes.
If you percussed with your left or right hand.
If you studied on the 12th floor.

If you still love cherry coke.
If you still had plans at 6 on Sundays.
If you still looked sexy in sky blue.

If your patients feel just as good as I do after seeing you.

Or if you ever think of me.