Monday, May 18, 2009

Perfect Strangers - Part Four

It’s always hard to write up the girl.

Little girl got curly black hair dark like ebony. They always said she took the good set of hair from her mother’s side, though her daddy’s sisters have black strength on their head too that stands strong with curls that no machine can ever take away.

Or so she learns when she grows up. In school she loved sports, was good at it, and sometimes she sported a silent but dangerous temper which she discovers when she grows up. One day, her older sister comes to her complaining about another girl. So she beat up the older girl. Then she made friends with her after a good fight.

Her teachers agree that she was bright. Fast quick and creative. She picked up the local language better than the locals, so her daddy took her out of language class so she doesn’t forget her Arabic. Behind her daddy’s back, the language teacher let her stay in class. See, the teacher couldn’t resist the spark of a young foreign cub reciting local poetry better than the rest.

In math, she did bad but one day she wrote a play. Got her friends to perform it with her and the comedy was so good, young chubby Olivia almost gagged on her laughter, tears and some more laughter. Everyone applauded the girl. She started to like attention. Applause. Mass validation. Performance. The taste of being a star at her game. Still had no clue what her game was. But. She knew she had something going on…. …

… …. One day, the school counselor said to her daddy: “that little one, she can adapt to any place you put her in, but the older one is a bit closed up”. The girl was a child in the true sense.

She did what her arms legs body mind soul heart wanted her to do. Heck even what her little rosy red mouth wanted. She was truly driven by nothing but the life that runs in her blood.

That little mouth, it said it all, ate it all, sung it all, spoke it all, it even talked to her little insect friends at night when her siblings got too tired to talk still. And she had four siblings.

Her thoughts exceed her words. Or so she discovers when she grows up.

... to be continued ...


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