There was a time, long ago, when my school wasn’t very much of a family, but that has long since changed.

It was a hard time for all of us. She was in the hospital and wasn’t doing so great. I remember the day I found out. She had seemed so happy, so perfect and just fine; that all changed just a little too fast. It was determined last summer that her case was a very rare type of cancer, Lymphoma. She battled with her own body and after months of struggle and strife she won. I remember the days when we used to hang up posters in school and wear ribbons on our skirts or bracelets on our hands, all for her. We sent her cards and held posters in the street when she drove by the school. We talked to news reporters and visited the hospital, all for her. Most of all, we prayed. Every day we prayed that she would get better; that her cancer would be gone the next day we came to school, but it wasn’t. She meant a lot to us and we cared about her. She was our friend and a part of our family. Some days she would visit school and the whole school was happy and joyful. We made it seem like nothing ever happened; like she was just a normal kid attending a normal school. But something did happen during those long hard months –something big happened. Something so big, so obvious, that it went almost completely unseen. She had brought this school together as one. Cookie had done the impossible.

Ribbons lined the streets. Green ribbons hung by the community in honor of the one and only Cookie. Those green ribbons symbolized Cookie’s struggles and were a constant reminder of how hard life can really be. Those long bands of green fabric that held our hopes high for her were meant to be taken down; and they were. Six months after being hung up those green strings that held our community together through Cookie’s cancer were stripped from their trees and put into bags. Cookie was in remission, and it was time to celebrate.

On a beautiful sunny night in late August the 8th grade girls all gathered to remember that tragic time last year. As we split into groups of two’s and three’s we burst out of our friends' backyard and ran for Wisconsin Avenue. We sprinted down the road to the nearest tree and took the ribbon off and threw it into a plastic bag. I was with Emily, when we ran down the street with scissors in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. I remember everyone was smiling and screaming things like,” Team Cookie!” or just saying, “Hi!” to passing cars. Everyone ran until they’re legs wore out and screamed until they lost they’re voice. We were celebrating Cookie’s remission in the best way possible.

After about an hour of taking down every ribbon on Wisconsin Avenue, we retreated back to Claire’s house. After standing back and looking at the streets, they look bare. The streets were always supposed to look like this, empty, barren, and lost. We had cleared nearly every tree in this area, and it felt good. Everything was back to normal, or maybe even better, because Cookie didn’t have cancer anymore and that had changed a lot.

As I fell asleep that night, I remembered how horrible last year was for her. I was reminded how different it was then. Before, all we could dream of was four words: Cookie is in remission. Eventually those dreams came true, and they brought positive change with them. The school family was better than ever; thanks to one special girl.