I suppose neither of us remembers much about kindergarten. The whole year consisted of us alternating between blue and red tables in the classroom while practicing our alphabets. I always preferred the blue tables. I’m pretty sure you did too. During gym class, you were always the faster runner, and I envied your agility more than anything. But my jealousy was shrouded by our friendship, which was largely cultivated by our weekly playdates at Cherry Blossom Park. You offered your favorite homemade grilled cheese sandwiches, and I made you a bouquet of blossoms underneath our favorite blossom tree in exchange. I think I saw your cheeks turn slightly red, but I never took it to heart. I never understood you because I never made an effort to read you. Whenever you talked to me, my eyes drifted to the sun and the trees in the background. 

On the Halloween of first grade, I dressed up as Princess Peach. I had so much trouble trying to find a kid-sized blonde wig and getting that crown to stay up on my head. It was a coincidence that you were Mario. It was probably just our crazy obsession over New Super Mario Bros which led to this coincidence. I fell asleep in your bedroom at three in the morning while playing Wii and your parents just left me on your bed. Luckily, it was a Saturday morning. 

My parents loved having you around. My mom thought you were well-mannered. You softened my rough edges. I was always the reckless kid who ran across the sofas and talked back at the dinner table. When you were here, I was sure to have both my feet planted on the ground during mealtimes and straighten the creases on my dress when standing up. My dad liked you because you were good at math. He tried to teach us algebra once in second grade and we both laughed at ourselves struggling to understand why numbers were suddenly replaced by x. On Pi day, it was my dad who invited you to bake a pie. He ended up eating 3.14% of the pie because we burnt the rest of it. My dad joked about your parents coming to pick you up because the neighborhood smelled pungent. That was when our houses were just two blocks apart.

I can’t blame you for leaving me because I left you too. I started hanging out with other friends who liked knitting hats and baking cookies. Toy cars and Pokémon cards never appealed to me. But one day your family had to move to Korea because of your father’s job. We went to a buffet for dinner the night before you left for the airport. The food was decent, but I left teardrops on every dish I passed by. No wonder everyone was crying by the end of the feast.  You gave me a stack of your favorite Pokémon cards as a farewell gift. I gave you a box of homemade cookies. I wish I could tell you that I was sorry for leaving you to hang out with other people, but my words were muffled by the regret that had welled up in my mouth. 

During the summer after sixth grade when I traveled to Korea, our families met at a restaurant to have dinner. We had something that looked a lot like steak and it was so good that I refrained from eating ice-cream afterward. Later, we sat next to each other, drinking orange juice while our parents got drunk on wine. You told me to follow you to get another cup but instead, you took me to a toy capsule machine – the ones that look like gumball machines but contain toys. I turned the lever and I got a diamond ring in a pink capsule. I thought it was too childish for me. But you slid it onto my finger anyway. I smiled at you, and our eyes locked for the first time in many years. 

I haven’t been to Korea ever since, and I have to admit you crept into the shadows of my consciousness. I found new friends, like always. People who could accept my nerdy obsession for math and bring me milk tea with boba on days I couldn’t stop crying. This year on Pi Day, I found a package in my mailbox that had been sent from Seoul, South Korea. It contained a ring with the symbol π. Although it was sent anonymously, I could almost see a reflection of your face from the ring. You still had the same twinkle in your eyes. 

I wish I told you that I lied. I actually really loved Pokémon.