Rock everything you do.

I have a lot of best friends. 

It's a weird thing about me.

I don't have a million acquaintances.

When I become friends with a person, I give them my whole heart.

I have a lot of close, dear friends.

I was blessed with one of the most amazing bestfriends a person could wish for.

She was smart, funny, beautiful, sweet, compassionate, caring, kind, and a little cheeky.

My best friend meant the world to me.

I told her everything, and she did the same.

We laughed together, cried together, screamed together, and sang together.

We loved together and feared together.

We held hands when she told me the cancer came back.

When she went to Arizona for treatment, I gave her the teddy bear who now sits on my pillow next to my head in Africa.

A part of me died when she did.

And then, even after she was gone, she told me that was stupid. She told me I wasn't allowed to be dead.

So I came back to life.

With a vengeance.

Caiti knew that my heart had Africa written all over it. And she loved that.

We talked about the incredible things we would do. How we would one day change the world.

I am an idealist. I make crazy plans to make the world a better place. It's unrealistic.

Caiti loved that.

She loved my crazy ideas about coming to Africa and doing something about the things I don't like in the world.

I wish I could see her face when she saw that I was actually doing it.

Caiti once told me, "Rock everything you do."

Caiti shared so much with me.

Her life, her feelings, her thoughts, her lunch, and even her family.

That was the greatest gift she ever gave me.

I am still so close with her family. 

Her siblings and parents are some of the greatest people you could ever meet.

Her mother, Michelle, has been one of my greatest supporters in this journey to Africa.

Her siblings make me laugh more than most people in the world.

Today, I got a package.

I was expecting a package.

A group of people from my church put together a package for me and my students.

I was expecting that.

What I was not expecting, was the second package.

A brown box with a return address that said "The Brown Family"

I started crying right there in the post office.

Just because I was surprised, and blindsided by the kindness of friends.

The box had all of the delicious snacks I could possibly want.

Cookies, candy, popcorn, Kraft Dinner, a note, and a picture.

A picture of my bestfriend, Caiti, with the inscription:

"She would be so proud of you."

Sitting on my bed, holding a box of macaroni and a package of gummy worms, I cried.

And it wasn't tears of sadness.

It was tears of gratefulness.

Tears of truth.

It was something I needed to hear.

Caiti was the biggest advocate for people living out their dreams.

For people trying to conquer the world.

She would love this.

Even being gone from my life, Caiti continuously inspires me to be the best me that I can.

Sometimes I need some encouragement.

I need to know that what I'm doing means something.

Because you guys hear the good stories, the incredible things.

I don't tend to blog about the week straight I stay home because I got a bacterial infection, or the days when my students have tantrums and punch me.

I don't tend to blog about the days when kids pee on me, or the days when no matter what I do, I feel like I can't get through to my students and I feel like I'm teaching nothing. The week where I'm dealing with insomnia and literally stay up all night, not being able to sleep, thinking about the plight of the my students and how I don't think I can actually make any difference and start to hyperventilate because I am nobody.

"She would be so proud of you."

She would.

Because she understood something that I tend to forget.

The big moments are awesome, but the big moments don't matter alone.

You can have ten big moments and a hundred thousand little moments.

A hundred thousand moments of peeing kids or frustrating classes.

But without those, you only had ten moments.

Ten moments is nothing.

I have less than two months left.

And I want to fill those two months with moments, big and small.

And I want to rock every single moment.

Because they matter.

She knew that.

She rocked every moment.

Miss you Caiti, thanks for teaching me how to rock.