I have a friend who is seventeen, and not. She came to see me a while today. I love this girl, who lives a not so girlish life – it’s pretty dang adult, day in and out. Did I say I love her?
Anyway, I love this girl. She’s quiet about all she is walking through with someone. I can’t get her to talk to me about it much; I think that she needs to talk, to someone. But, when the knowing quiet between us gets heavy, she will cry. If I can get her to meet my eyes and exhortations of how loved and lovable she is, she cries. Not a sobbing, squalling cry…but tears that pour down from her eyes and soak her shirt.
Every time that her tears fall on me, I stop breathing, I am so overcome by the beauty of who she is. I am rattled and shaken and brought to awe.
I’ve written more about her in this blog than anyone else. Every time that I see her, something forces its way up, out and onto here. Every time.
God, I love this girl, this girl that I really don’t know how to help.
I’m always the one helped by her coming. That seems so unfair.
But, time’s passing is her friend. Soon she can/will walk free of much of what she bears.
Not soon enough for me.
Did I mention how much I love her?