My Cousin Sister 2020 ^new^ May 2026

We started a shared journal in June. A cheap spiral notebook we passed back and forth. She’d write a page about how online classes were making her feel dumb. I’d write underneath about how I was scared my parents might get sick. We never talked about those pages out loud. We didn’t have to.

Tonight, as I write this, I am back in my own room. The lockdown is easing. We are supposed to go back to “normal” soon. But I don’t think I want to go back to the old normal with her.

Thank you, Riya. For holding my hand through the chaos. For the blanket forts and the burnt banana bread. For teaching me that family isn’t just blood—it’s the person who shows up, every single day, when the world is falling apart. my cousin sister 2020

Here’s to 2021. May we always have a sunset to share.

On December 31st, we are going to video call at 6 PM. We are going to watch one last sunset of the year together, even if it’s through a screen. We’ll probably cry a little. We’ll definitely laugh a lot. We started a shared journal in June

When you see the world shutting down, when you realize that the next hug might be months away, you stop holding grudges over dirty dishes. We learned to apologize. Really apologize. We learned to say, “That hurt me,” instead of slamming doors. We grew up, together, in that small space.

I didn’t know then that those noodles would become a ritual. Or that Riya would become the anchor of my entire 2020. I’d write underneath about how I was scared

We became witnesses to each other’s small bravery. Getting out of bed. Logging into that Zoom class. Trying again tomorrow.