A Glimpse of Heaven

Yet he cared about her- so, so much. A cliche would smother the sincerity. Of course, he wrote out the words "take care", taking a good two minutes or so to press the stubborn little keypad on his cell phone so the words were perfect. T/k would not suffice. T/k was for the friend who also had other things to do, for the girlfriend who only regarded the way you looked at her with your eyes.

But what was she?! The friend that was his brother, sister, father, mother, rival, teacher, television and radio. How could he have cultivated the gratitude of a brother and the fondness of a high school sweetheart in the same heart? Of course, it flowed along with the usual cute story of elementary best friends experiencing the utterly destructive phase of the hormones harvest during the transition from middle to high school. How the dirt on her freckled little face grew to a soft peachy complexion which really wasn't beautiful in comparison to others, but housed her own sort of mystique so that it was still an altogether overwhelming and new experience for him to see. How her boyish raggedy haircut extended and flourished in a shy manner, reaching a little past her shoulders and straightening themselves out in some strange silky way women always manage to achieve so effortlessly.
They maintained fairly close relation during this mid-adolescence years, stumbling into the new world together while receiving the natural doses of rumors for her, the high expectations for "coolness" of him. Freshman year, and the homework piling both of them in paperwork while triggering the usual amount of tears and frustration. Yet they had managed, spilling secrets to each other first of her family life falling apart and then of his hidden fear of failing in all that he tried to do. High school flew by in the never-ending race of time and before he knew it, there was senior year and all its unknown promises to the ripening fruit. It was there, it was then. Late bloomers? But it was there that he started the gentle fall into her startling green eyes that had only been as natural to him as seeing the grass on the sidewalk everyday. She, did not know. She couldn't. Yet with every laugh that really could warm up a cold cup of coffee, and every reprimanding glare she shot him, and even the way she tore down that double double made him adore her even more.
Sometimes he'd catch himself in embarassment or stumbling on simple words that sailed by so smoothly when they were kids, and she would eye him strangely, though nullifying the awkwardness by filling the space up with her usual quirks and commentaries on how politics was the most evil one could endorse themselves with, and how she'd rather spend an afternoon in the lush danger of a tropical forest than the "bland, inconsiderate walls of Congress." Where she lacked in outwardly beauty she certainly surpassed in her intellectual capacity. The innocent green eyes soon grew with boldness as she grew to the top of her classes, never hesitant to retort back to the teacher her conflicting views, never shrinking back to a position of idleness when the vicious crews of girls made silly comments of her worn out shoes her poverty stricken family could not afford to replace.

Alongside new loves she had developed such as sketching with a ball-pointed pen (and oh how effusive those drawings were) and filling up her schedule with vigorous math competitions against egotistic boys, she entered another world distant to me. Religion never really affected our friendship- we would discuss, throwing out our raw perspectives of the world and its strange workings, never really touching to the core of the subject. Was her God watching the whole time? Waiting until her senior year to pull her, my treasure box, away from me? Three hour phone conversations were gradually replaced with church activities, her CD collection increased with spiritual music. I was never one to admit weakness. I could not share the same view as her, could not merely "accept" whom my life owed itself to, and that I was a sinful and dirty being, needing a so-called savior to help me attain the real truth. But she was amazing. Instead of pushing me away, she embraced our friendship. As much as I brushed off requests to attend her church, or volunteer at homeless shelters with her...our friendship flourished with her love, and her light. Maybe it was because I was with her in her world, captured by the still flame her whole being emitted which set a peace and curiosity in the atmosphere, but I thought to myself- that no amount of genetic mutations or mechanical processings could create a product so abstractly beautiful as this girl who held the keys to my soul.

Thus began the Journey.