"Marny"

I met Marny twelve years ago. We were just little, shy girls back then, but somehow we locked eyes and knew immediately we would be friends. We found each other among the crowd in my cousin John’s birthday party, smiled at each other showing proudly our toothless smiles and defeated out shyness to talk.

Marny had beautiful, shiny blond hair. It was the first thing about her that caught my eye. Her long, straight locks were perfectly styled in two pony tails. Her chocolate brown eyes looked huge behind her glasses that slipped off her nose bridge every two minutes: she had this tiny nose scattered with freckles. Her mouth was always smiling, her cheeks bright pink when she blushed, which happened pretty often. She was skinny and short, and considering the sweetness of her heart-shaped face, she could seem very fragile, as if you could hurt her just by talking to her. Nothing further from the truth.

Marny was shy and she struggled to talk to people and to make new friends, but she was brave and strong. She would try again and again, despite the way some kids treated her because of the way she looked. They made fun of how tiny she was, of her glasses, of the way her eyes seemed to occupies half her face. I found her adorable, but apparently I was the only one. Still Marny tried them to like her. She never cried in public; if someone hurt her, she smiled and with an uncommon dignity for a seven year old she accepted failure and moved on. Once you got to know her you soon learned not only was she strong and brave but she was also very funny, generous smart and a wonderful friend. I loved her, she was my best friend.

Around the time we met, her Mom started taking her to karate lessons and to a reading club in the community center of our town. Regardless what you might think she kicked ass in karate and was as feared as respected by other children in her class. She even won a couple of medals in local competitions. It made her feel tall, gigantic, that is why she loved karate so much. She could stand up and speak up for herself as she couldn’t do anywhere else with words. She also loved reading, a passion we shared. She would borrow me the books she read in her book club and we would spend hours talking about them. Soon she would realize that she was a very talented writer as well as a reader.

Marny and I haven’t talked to each other in ten years now and I still miss her very much. I know she misses me too, because every time I visit her in her room I find pictures of us on the wall and very often I see my name in her diary. She writes about how, though she has made new friends, none of them can replace me; about how much she misses our slumber parties and how much she wishes that plane hadn’t hit the towers when my family’s car was passing in front of them that day in September. I wonder whether she knows that I haven’t left completely, I wish she knew that though she can’t see me or hear me I’m still her friend , that sometimes to see her smile makes my day, that I’ll always near her, taking care of her, that I love her very much and that I’m thrilled she kept our pictures on her wall. I wish I could tell that regardless how beautiful she’s now, I still think she was adorable back then.

Emilia Dennler