I am not a writer by trade, nor a speaker by profession, but who wouldn't want to speak and write her name. Who wouldn't want to say that they knew her when and where, and way back when. Who wouldn't want to plead, for words that can be spoken, and thoughts that can be written near her name. Who wouldn't want to say, "I knew her when and where, and way back when." I couldn't help but speak, for I was one of those who knew her then. I knew her way back when and where, and even then.
I knew her when her itty bitty self was barely born, when all around was dark, but she was light; when even noonday sun was not as bright. I knew her when her itty bitty self was barely born. I knew her also when the sun was blue, when sadness had pervaded every hue, and all around were tears of woe begone. When heaven's glow had dimmed, and all around were tears of woe begone. When storms and sea and winds had swept the island clean. But even then, her glow was undefiled. I knew her when in elementary school, the teachers thought there must be something shrewd about a child as bright as she, who didn't seem to know the color blue. She knew, but called it green, and green it was to her.
I knew her when she named her favorite pet. It was a turtle she called Adam, and all the universe became transfixed, wondering at what Adam might do next. I knew her when her hair was curled real tight, when every day she pleaded for the right to make it right, to comb it as she might. I knew her when they called her an old soul, yes, a soul from way back when who'd come to life again, whose light had failed to dim. But then, we learned we too were souls from way back when, who'd come to life again, still steeped in darkness, and not knowing how or when or where we'd find the light.
I knew her when they said she'd tell us how and where and when we'd find the light. We waited, and we waited, and we waited some more. We watched her every move, and waited. We watched her every act, and waited. We followed every curve, and waited. We waited, and we waited, and we waited some more. I knew her when she left the country bare, wondering what had befallen us, that God would take her from our care. He soon reversed his plan, and sent her packing back to her homeland. Her joy was just as deep as ours to see her back at home, and in our care.
I knew her when her teachers in High School defined their day by witnessing her smile. When all around was dark, but she was light, and smiling. I knew her when. And now, we see the fruits of all her labors, and once again, I'm proud to say I knew her when, and then. I am proud to say I knew her, not because of all the light, but because of all the days that she has walked upright. And because of all the paths that she would never tread, those paths that lead to doom and destruction. I knew her when, and then, and now that light has come, we understand. I knew her when.