I remember the child that used to play with me when I was a little girl. He was different from everyone else I'd met.
The child with the femine look was only a bit older than me when I met him. His gorgeous red locks messily hung over his face. Amber eyes that shown like gems, only seldom open. A green dress and white, laced apron was what he clothed him. I admittedly mistook him for a girl at first glance.
He waved to me, and I waved back. The friendly child raced over to me. The friendly child was lonely.
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Our greeting was a little bit less than formal. Being the silly children we were, the rules of etiquette did not apply to us. Not to mention the fact that he was so chummy, and he even gave me a hug, I believe he was a very straight forward person. But so was I...no...so am I.
We talk for a bit. I talked to the friendly boy who was lonely.
At one point, I made the mistake of calling him a "she". Well, could it really be considered a mistake if I was absolutely positive that he was a girl. But anyway, when I called him a "she", he began to giggle. I was confused.
The boy explained his position. It was so hilarious, had I hope I did not come off as rude, but I began to laugh. Especially when he told me that he was a maid. I told him that I believed maids were only female, but he just shrugged.
I finished getting to know the boy. The friendly boy who was lonely.
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We crossed paths once again, only a week later. My mother was escorting me from church. That's when I noticed the boy again. Skipping beside a pompous looking man, and a cheery woman. Perhaps his parents, is what I thought. Mother had me firm in her sites, so I was stuck in place. But, luckily, he noticed me as well. He called for me, giving me an excuse to look up at my mother with pleading eyes. She could not refuse, and sent me over to my new friend. The two of us both ran ahead of our guardians. We ignored the yelling of protests from them and kept running. Our dresses were tugged angrily by the gusts of air we made as we sprinted.
I ran with the boy. The friendly boy who was lonely.
When we reached an old looking tree, we decided to call it quits and take a break until the adults caught us. I sat down and looked at him. His eyes were closed, as if there were no eyes in there at all. I wondered how he could see. Most of all, I wondered if he would open his eyes. Show me colorful orbs that could be blue, or green, or brown. But he wouldn't open his eyes. I secretly sighed in disappointment.
We had no time to talk before our enraged guardians showed up, towering over us like hungry giants with bloodlust in their eyes. My mother hesitated none before she grabbed my arm and pulled me away. I waved goodbye.
The boy waved goodbye to me. The friendly boy who was lonely.
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I didn't see him in a year. On that particular day, my dear mother had passed away. My father was mourning inside next to her cold, unmoving body. I sat outside, by that same tree. Tears slid down like a waterfall of the salty liquid. My face was bright red from all of the sobbing and weeping. A rubbed my eyes as I tried to calm down, but it was no use. Suddenly, I figure came up to me. I couldn't see who it was immediately, for the liquid fogging my eyes blurred the person out. But once he asked me a question, I knew exactly who it was. The person asking me if I was alright was none other than my old friend.
The boy stood over me with a worried expression on his face. The friendly boy who was lonely.
I realized something about the boy. He hadn't changed. Not at all. Even I had grown a bit. He did not. The same boy I knew was holding a hand out to me. I grabbed the hand without a word, and let him pull me up. He repeated his question. I looked down as I answered. I made it brief to try to keep from crying. But it was without success and I felt hot tears streaming down my face. The boy pulled me into a comfortable embrace.
The boy comforted me. The friendly boy who was lonely.
I wiped my eyes and smiled at him. He smiled back. And what I did next, I still to this day can't believe I did. But I can't be blamed, I was only a little girl, about six. I leaned in to plant a tiny kiss on his cheek. His face turned more red than I've ever seen. With a shy smile, I turned, uttering a simple thank you before I walked away.
The boy blushed harder. The friendly boy who was lonely.
As time went by, it seemed as if he forgot about that. We remained good friends. Even to my teenage years. He still did not grow. I had to kneel down to give him a hug. He was tiny as I grew up. But we never grew apart. He was still my only friend.
The boy was my only friend. The friendly boy who was lonely.
The boy ran up to me and clung to my leg, squealing my name in delight. I looked down at him fondly, ruffling up his already-messy hair. He giggled. When I was a child, I had never noticed these small details about his behavior, because I shared those. But at this time, I had become more mature. But I always noticed that one detail about him. Whenever he opened his eyes, I could see the loneliness and regret in them. I looked at him. He stared back in confusion. Kneeling down to his height I asked him a question. I wanted to know why the boy was lonely.
The boy told me. The friendly boy who was lonely.
A vision of sorrow came into my mind as I imagined the day that the boy's dearest one said goodbye. Never to be seen again. I sympathized with the boy. Understanding loss, I could. When he explained, he looked sad. His eyes water. Before any tears could escape, I wiped his eyes. It was my time to comfort the boy.
I comforted the boy. The friendly boy who was lonely.
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As an adult, I didn't see him much anymore. Only on and off would I meet up with the boy. I was busy. I owned a ranch now. I had a family. And now, I was leaving the boy alone. The boy was lonely. Now, lonelier than before. What kind of a friend was I? He'd be sitting out in the grass, and could only spare a glance with him before I had to go back to my life.
The little boy looked at me sadly. The friendly boy who was lonely.
My family left slowly. I grew old, and so did my children and husband. My surviving children left to move on to their own lives. My husband passed away before I did. Eventually, I understood loneliness all over again. It was like my childhood all over again. But then, I remembered the person who helped. The boy that I left. Why did I leave him?
I missed the boy. The friendly boy who was lonely.
One day, I woke up and realized something. I was old. I was frail. My time was limited. I needed to see the boy again. The boy still lived nearby. I set off the find the lonely boy. He, of course, was there. Sitting, bored, in his usual spot in the yard. His eyes lit up when he saw me coming. Mine lit up when he began to run to me. I kneeled down so he could run into my arms, and we could be friends again. It was beautiful.
I hugged the boy. The friendly boy who was lonely no more.
We talked again, like never before. Laughing and conversing was the most fun I had in years. Ah, if only it could've lasted forever.
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On my final day, I sat in bed, coughing up a storm. The only one who stood beside me, my dear friend. The boy who never grew up. He clung to my arm with tears in my eyes, begging me not to leave him alone again. And I felt guilty, even though I could not control this. My vision blurred, and all I could see was the fading color of the crying boy. My last words were spoken in a cracking voice.
"Goodbye, Feliciano."
I felt a warm feeling overcome me as the darkness took over. All became clear as my soul left my dead body. I looked down at the shrieking and sobbing mess of the boy.
The boy was sad. The friendly boy who was lonely once again.
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Now, I sit in a paradise of beauty. Feathered wings sprout from my back. I look like I'm a youth again. I can look down at my friend, and watch him through good and bad. He's finally grown up. He's made new friends once again. I smile. I feel happy. I wish him luck in his life, for there will be more complications in the future.
I wish the boy luck. The friendly boy who is lonely.