We started watching Steven Universe as a way to avoid doing homework.

Jene and Aarin roomed together, and I roomed alone, but we were all in the same apartment that had been converted into a dorm, the one with the dinky kitchen and the little balcony that overlooked the trees, the dumpsters, and the creek.

This was before we got caught smoking weed inside, so we were curled on the couch, passing a bong back and forth, watching the crystal gems dance their way into being one giant woman.

“This show is just… just soooooo good!” Jene was crying, touched by the giant woman.

“Yeah,” I said, and my teeth were melting ice. I took another rip. “Yes.”

Years later, a year into sobriety, I’d watch it again and cry. It made sense, now. It really was a beautiful show.