She flitted into my life, like a butterfly one day in the past year – bright, cheerful and full of energy. Her expressive eyes filled her face imbuing it with a spark that rarely left a person untouched. Her hands told a story of their own as her voice modulated up and down animating the story she was sharing. She loved stories. Of people. Of places. Of impressions.
Over the year that I knew her, she filled in for the years I had not known her. We talked about her school, her friends, their lives. We talked about her family. Her siblings. Her cousins. I got to know her parents. Her grandparents. Her far-flung family. I got to know her. The person she was. The person she was becoming. The person she wanted to be. I heard of the experiences that shaped her. The incidents that scarred her. I learned she was terrified of thunder. Of dogs. Of silence. I learned she loved soft toys. She hated being alone. She loved to be serenaded.
Inside that nervous, fast talking person was a person who had abundant love to share. When she was not talking, I got to see parts of her that peeked through. Like her amazing work ethic. Her professionalism. Her attention to detail. Her willingness to go above and beyond what was asked for. As I watched her interact with guests at my party, I saw the ease with which she played with children and engaged peers in conversation. She helped out, pitched in, came early, left late. She lent quiet support when needed and disappeared when opportune.
Just like that she morphed from friend to family. From the silent rock on the other side of the telephone to vocal confidante. Just when I was sliding into taking her for granted, she left my life, disappearing as suddenly as she entered it, leaving behind a trail of memories and sentiments unexpressed.
This is my entry to Day 6 of Writing 101.