In the eternal heated mornings of the small country of Costa Rica, happy children awoke worry free from war, and dictatorships of neighboring countries, just the sweet sound of the city roosters. After a good breakfast, of bread, butter cream from the fresh milk recently delivered by the milkman in the very early hours of the morning, the bottles carefully placed in each door of my neighborhood. The kids got ready for school. Fathers and mothers holding their children’s hand, with out knowing what their future might hold, just with the only hope in their hearts for the best what also to do?. Countless occasions getting out of my house to school, I saw a kid that always accompanied by her father, that looked humble and slightly older than the rest of the parents that frequently visited the school, he used to hold his child’s hand firmly but at the same time with the softness of a filled immense love. Just to make sure that she will not escape from his side, letting her know that she was not alone.
Always with her school uniform, like every one of us in occasions her attired changed for the habit Of the virgin of Carmen, a Catholic adorned dress symbolic to her church and on top of that a girl scout sash of the province of San Jose. My eyes with admiration and bit of jealousy because I was raised differently, always independent with full reliance on myself to get school with no parental supervision. Coming back to that fortunate child whom parental guidance never seem to fail her, the envy that felted for her, faded away with time. Through the years of elementary school, once or twice misunderstandings crossed our pathways, due to certain revelry between her class and mine. Conveniently the classes where divided in alphabetical order, mine was the letter A and hers E or something like that. In activities of importance my group was always choose first, that was like putting insult to injury because they complained and fussed about their assigned place, knowing well the routine. Finally, after the end of elementary schooling years, childhood games and the proximity of teen-hood. Graduation was near, the all girl school were ready for a big celebration, expectation of when, where, and how was floating through the classrooms and corridors of the little school. Choices of where to go, neighboring high schools that offered a coed learning or an all girl high school that had a secular curriculum.
Many months went by puberty came for some and left a rain check for the rest us. Envy came back like a bad rash, when the summer passed some of the developed ones, drawing a fine curve in their sweaters, my most despite female mate from elementary school days was one of them which through the weeks in became my friend, although differences existed maybe not intellectual but physical . She visited for fun, like little girls we played with dolls and telling each other ghost stories, which she always make sure to tell me, how she will appear in my room after her death. The next day we acted like perfect little women, going back to our high school issues and schoolwork. To make a long story short, the little girl now a woman, change from her fathers hand to hers boyfriends whom waited for her like her father did so many times before. This young man was not the only one waiting at the end of each school day, as a tradition carried sense 1888, the neighboring all male high school became the decor of the block across from our school tens of hundreds young studs waited anxiously for their girlfriends and soon to be ones. It never failed, a strong wave of men’s cologne filled the air, soon after the big oak wood doors opened, which was the silent alarm that alert the girls with an arsenal of lipsticks, eye shadow, combs and hair brushes. Prompting them to not only to style hair and face but also uniforms, to give them a bit of individualism just by rolling their skirts up their waist and pulling out their tucked-in blouses for the chic look.
Time went by uneventfully, until one day disturbing news came to my door step, my long standing class mate had taken her life with a powerful floor cleaner, the reason for which she decided to take her life was so insignificant for many but for a teenager meat the world, her father took her phone privileges, and she couldn’t talk to her boyfriend. The parents of my class mate, invited me to the visitation at her house, which is a tradition in small countries to keep the death in their living rooms for twenty-four hour. Feeling sad and remembering our time together, relentlessly I went. There she was ever so peaceful and pretty, not to sound cliche but was exactly like “slipping beauty”, dressed with her favorite clothing and her long black hair over the shoulders, with an always around youthful face, and the soft markings of dimples that every time she smiled showed the bright and well formed teeth. The mother an old season woman, sensed my fear of getting near the casket, so she pull me closer, graved my hand and placed over her child hand, I was afraid, the mom toll me that was nothing to be afraid of, and that was the only way to secure a farewell. At that moment a tear of the corps roll down the check.
My heart, and body quivered with tremendous fear, I pointed out to her mother, that quickly assured me that, was her way to say thank you goodbye to me. In my way to the cemetery, a mile from her house in company of old and new school-mates walked slow and pause in silent cry, friends and family by the casket, that was carried by her two older brothers, boyfriend and father shoulders. The white small box, adorned with white flowers, disappeared while walking. My mind wondered, many thoughts passed through my head, but one kept coming back over and over. The hunting ways of my friend by telling how she will appeared to me after her death. After long day, got home went to my room, which was separated from the rest of the house and like a sack of potatoes, collapsed in my bed. Falling asleep in seconds I have no clue for how long. I walk up by her grave side, walking in my sleep through a dream like state, streets and houses fussed with cloudy visions of my friend, talking me into walking with her like we did back when she was a life. Going alone with her funny ways and foolish games. Not a single word came out my mouth. I woke up by her voice coming through the pails of fresh dirt, yelling at me to dig her out of there.