"Mary Ann."
The sound of her name sounded like a slightly off-key note in a song. I winced ever so slightly, hoping she would not notice it but she did. She looked at me and I looked back at her. She gave me a sad smile, one that seemed misplaced in a face as bubbly and efferevescent as hers.
A sad smile.
Just four days ago, there was no sadness in her smile. Along with ten other girls and four guys, we had confined ourselves to a small room in the more obscure innards of the church we attend. It was our Christmas party so we had pizza and chicken on the table, gifts on hand, a videoke microphone up for grabs, cameras going "whirrr" and friends side by side.
Friends side by side.
She had that tonight, more than a dozen according to my last count before I hugged her goodbye and left. It felt so different to see her eyes welling with tears, her face all flushed for reasons other than feeling giddy. Everything was different - from her face to her name. She had always been Mean to me, ever since that day we were introduced to each other by P. Joel almost two years ago. In that span of time, she became a very good friend and somewhat something like the older sister I had always wanted to have. She was as cool and as spunky as her name. She always had the sweetest of smiles and the gurgliest of laughter.
As people walked to her to extend their sympathies for her father's passing, I heard more voices calling her "Mary Ann." She looks a lot more serious than four days ago... a lot more tired, a lot more worn, a lot more like Mary Ann, a little less than Mean. But no matter what name she is called, I think to myself "She will carry through, she will carry on."
She will carry on.
Because behind her sad eyes is a spark of faith and a strength that is not of this world.
She will carry on.
The sound of her name sounded like a slightly off-key note in a song. I winced ever so slightly, hoping she would not notice it but she did. She looked at me and I looked back at her. She gave me a sad smile, one that seemed misplaced in a face as bubbly and efferevescent as hers.
A sad smile.
Just four days ago, there was no sadness in her smile. Along with ten other girls and four guys, we had confined ourselves to a small room in the more obscure innards of the church we attend. It was our Christmas party so we had pizza and chicken on the table, gifts on hand, a videoke microphone up for grabs, cameras going "whirrr" and friends side by side.
Friends side by side.
She had that tonight, more than a dozen according to my last count before I hugged her goodbye and left. It felt so different to see her eyes welling with tears, her face all flushed for reasons other than feeling giddy. Everything was different - from her face to her name. She had always been Mean to me, ever since that day we were introduced to each other by P. Joel almost two years ago. In that span of time, she became a very good friend and somewhat something like the older sister I had always wanted to have. She was as cool and as spunky as her name. She always had the sweetest of smiles and the gurgliest of laughter.
As people walked to her to extend their sympathies for her father's passing, I heard more voices calling her "Mary Ann." She looks a lot more serious than four days ago... a lot more tired, a lot more worn, a lot more like Mary Ann, a little less than Mean. But no matter what name she is called, I think to myself "She will carry through, she will carry on."
She will carry on.
Because behind her sad eyes is a spark of faith and a strength that is not of this world.
She will carry on.
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