For some extraordinary reason, I still feel her love conditionally within me. I guess for the same strange reason, I yearn for that feeling every day of my life; as if she were still here. I don’t understand why God takes them away from us; but isn’t he magnificent? He leaves us with that powerful, transcendent and enormous love that can only be felt; neither touched, nor seen; hence, irremovable. Why does it hurt so much then? Why do we have to love to the point that it hurts?

I can see her sitting in her black leather couch; her glasses half way down her small nose so she could glance up to me and watch me as I silently glimpse at her from across the room, watching TV, while she is knitting something for me and my doll. So careful, so detailed, she is so concentrated at the same time that you can not even touch her. She doesn’t like to be touched, although she lets me hug her. She loves me with that unintelligible love and I love her in the same magnificent way. I don’t think anybody will be capable of understanding the spectrum of this love, and the way I can still feel it, to the point of tears. It makes me sad though, very sad. I cannot touch her anymore; and she would’ve loved me to, she would’ve let me.

        I couldn’t be there on that last day; I wasn’t expecting it to happen at such a tender age of mine. I never imagined death existed. I never thought I could lose something that immense. I suppose this is the cause of my pain and my continuous thoughts about those days, my constant longing of those years, and my relentless pursuing of that feeling.  Not only I can revive those joyful moments and recall them as clearly as if they would’ve happened yesterday, but I can experience the loss all over again as if I were at her funeral; the one I never attended. 

I only saw that couch one more time. Never experienced emptiness such as that and looking back. Swore I would never go back. Just the thinking of it makes me want to cry. I don’t know when I will be able to face this reality, so painful and unreal for me at this time. I don’t ever want to go back, but sometimes I wish I could die, just to see her one more time.






        I found myself crossing this path the way I’ve done it before. I kept walking and walking without noticing my surroundings. Everything was so colorful and at the same time so opaque for my eyes that I didn’t see anything different that day. All of a sudden, I heard something; it seemed as if all the rowdiness were silent for a few seconds. I turned around and there it was, lying in the middle of my ordinary path. It was so shiny and perfect that I was tempted to grab it and take it with me; besides, I found it, and it belonged to me.

        Who could have done this? Who could have created such a beautiful fruit as this? Why would somebody stop me and tempt me in such a way? I’m just ordinarily walking my path and don’t want to see or experiment anything different than what I already know. Although this creation; it looks so perfect on the outside that at this point, I believe I’m too tempted to even think of the consequences.

        I bend down and grab it; my hands get all dirty and purple. As I examine it carefully, while still thinking about my decision, even my thoughts get filthy and I realize I need to get away. Not everything as stunning as this fruit will be what it seems to be. Nevertheless, I took it with me, I ran away with it, and I felt that was all I needed. It belonged to me, and I belonged to it.

It was quite a journey that day along this pathway. I have seen fruits of all kinds; I have tried many since then. Some were as beautiful as the roses but as hideous as its thorns. I wanted to see it all and I didn’t want to walk at the same speed every day. I didn’t like this opaque routine anymore and was tired of walking, I wanted to fly, and I felt my purple hands were my wings to conquer it all. This was the perfect fruit, the perfect creation. God had thought about me when he created this delicatessen. 

But one day; someone showed me a new fruit, a new creation, something I had never seen before; it was from the Caribbean. It wasn’t quite appealing; I thought I might never try it, especially like it. Besides, it didn’t get my hands dirty. But how could I possibly reject such an invitation? It was coming from someone who had a broad knowledge on the subject, someone who knew how many types of fruit exist in the world. Someone who knew texture, flavor and form, and especially he knew the difference between those.

Now I make sure to include this particular fruit in my diet, and to bring it with me on my journey everyday through my colorful pathway. I have it with me, but they are no possessions involved. Nobody belongs to no one, and I still see the rest lying in the middle of my exceptional path.