The Girl Who Saw the World

I’m somewhere near the ocean.

On the shores, there are these big round rocks which look as if they were polished. That’s how soft their surface is.

I watch a girl, wearing a white dress with puff sleeves, with her hair short in a bob cut, playing. Jumping from one rock to the next, without a care in the world. I sit behind her, looking, and I feel we’re so different. Worlds stand between us, yet I can’t help but notice a familiarity about her. The way she carries herself, the style of her clothes. I know her from somewhere.

She seems to hear my thoughts because she turns around while jumping from stone to stone. When she faces me, all those differences between us hit me again. She looks at me with understanding, like she was just as I am now, but that was a very long time ago.

Her words are a blur in my head, yet, in the back of my mind, I know she’s wondering why I look so sad, so drained of all energy and of all color. Her whole being vibrates with vitality, her white dress and short hair catch the attention of the Sun, who sends waves of rays down her way, as if he wants to feed her even more light, as if he’s so attracted to her that he just can’t stay away.

And I’m here, feeling more dead than alive.

She keeps playing, hinting that I could do the same. And I know I can, but have I forgotten how to? Have I imbued my life with so many rules, with so many preconceptions and other’s opinions, that I just forgot how to play by myself?

She sends a thought my way, saying she agrees with everything I think and feel. I bet she does. Just by watching her, I can tell that people’s opinions and expectations mean nothing to her.

She turns around and offers me a wicked smile. Yep, she couldn’t agree more.

I sense that my time with her is up. I wish I could stay longer. I want to ask so many questions. But I know the drill. She jumps again, as if she agrees.

I take a deep breath. She’s gone.