From time to time,
I think about you.
Not in depth,
but I do.
Your stories.
Your characters.
Your time.
Your dedication.
Your genius.
Why should I think of authors?
You’re deities in your own right,
giving us gifts
that we don’t always deserve.
Then again,
that’s how benevolent deities are,
aren’t they?
But you’re different.
You were in my life
before I knew
who you were.
Before your name
was connected
to my favorite obsession.
Your characters
came into my life
when I was a little girl
at 5:00 PM
on channel 11
in tropical bliss.
I remember
showing up
in the middle of episodes.
Forcing my cousins
every summer
to find something
that was Dragon Ball.
I was obsessed as a girl,
but the more I watch it,
the more I love it.
The more
I appreciate it.
The more I wonder
why I can’t read
your original source material.
Damn the lack of innovation
to make manga accessible.
My favorite
is still the first series.
I started
with Dragon Ball Z,
but Dragon Ball
is your best work.
Throughout the years,
I’ve learned to appreciate you.
You gave me
characters to love.
Characters
to aspire to be like.
Messages
to take into my life.
You gave me
a foundation for my writing.
I wrote fanfiction
that will never see the light of day
thanks to you.
You passed away
at 68,
leaving us
your mark.
Your stories.
Your characters.
You left the world
a reason to keep going.
A reason
to hope.
A reason
to keep looking
for the best
in our lives.
Thank you
for your stories.
Your characters.
Your time.
Your dedication.
Your genius.
Thank you
for giving us a gift
we don’t always deserve.
