It was a normal morning, until it wasn’t anymore. I got a message from Carmen, she wanted me to tell our coach she wouldn’t be able to make practice today. I thought nothing of it until my coach asked, “is everything alright?” I didn’t know if everything was alright. I didn’t know what was happening, until I did. It was an indirect message verified by another friend. Carmen’s mom had passed away that morning. I was shocked. I was in disbelief. I was in tears. For the first time at an age where I was old enough to understand death, I had lost someone I cared about. I learned that when a death catches you by surprise, it makes all the difference. It makes the grief one hundred times worse.
Paulo Coelho Style Imitation:
“THE BOY’S NAME WAS SANTIAGO. DUSK was falling as the boy arrived with his hear at an abandoned hurch. The roof had fallen in long ago, and an enormous sycamore had grown on th espot where the sacristy had once stood. He decided to spend the night there. He saw to it that all the sheep entered through the runined gate, and then laid some planks across it to prevent the flock from wandering away during the night…He swept the floor with his jacket and lay down, using the book he had just finished reading as a pillow. He told himself that he would have to start reading thicker books: they lasted longer, and made more comfortable pillows.”
It was early evening and class had just ended. The students rush out of classrooms, piling into the elevator making their way down to the first floor and out the building. Everyone squeezes themselves into the 6 train, same as always during evening rush hour. Everyone is eager to go home, not just the students, the passengers leaving work, too. They all make their daily commute home just in time to join their family for dinner at seven o’clock.