Sofia
Watching Sofia move through the street has always been a pleasure, specially as the sun hits her face with a grace that seems barely human. Today seems to be no exception
It seems she’s to always be here. From elementary, to middle school, to high school. She’s always been here and that brings some sort of familiarity to her. She’s so much part of my life and in such a tacit way that it’s almost like the blueness of the sky; so… easy to overlook.
She’s never done wrong towards any, I have to believe, probably due to the sweetness and clarity with which I’ve seen her live life; a sort of way like how I imagine an old person would live life, beyond the piecemeal dramas of the daily. Always funny and smiling with some sweety buffoon-ness in her eyes. Maturely naive would be a great way to describe her.
I’ve never lied to her and I have lied to some people; I’ve never found a reason to lie to her. She couldn’t do me no harm and, frankly, there’s little people that could be recipient to as many personal stories, relates and thoughts, as her.
She has a dog, I believe.
When the news came in, they did through my mom. My teacher called her and, when she told me, I cried.
I think it was a car accident.
We bought flowers and dressed all up, the whole class. Her family was sad, but they seemed to be happy we were there, specially her mom. And as plenty of us cried, it apparently made her mother a tiny bit happy, for it surely made her feel good that other people were suffering, too, with her. Still, any amount of tears wouldn’t bring Sofia back, would they?
Yes, I cried when I found out and also as I stood alongside my friends in church but, I didn’t feel sad. Not at all, but it would’ve been weird for me to not cry. She was dead, true, but so were many people, and I haven’t cried for them. Her death wasn’t sad or unpleasant, but I didn’t welcome it. It is just that it didn’t change my life at all. The blueness of the sky was gone but, green didn’t seem bad either.
I’ve thought plenty. Maybe if I knew with reasonable certainty this would happen — and nobody else knew, perhaps virtue of something like time-travel — I think I would’ve lied to her for the first time, just to tell her I loved her. Maybe have a kiss of her lips, thinking about their eventual lifelessness; to know what they taste like and, maybe, hold her hand. She never had a boyfriend and, I’d be the only one without a doubt of such a taste.
I don’t know, maybe this only turns me on because of the thought that she’s dead now. So much beyond of life, even much more than before.
I don’t think her living lips would’ve tasted as good as her dead ones surely do but, kissing them thinking how they’ll be dead surely would have made them better.
Sofi is not precisely as she was: barely.
The sea.
