Agnes

Laughter echoes in the room. Giggles shatter the silence and break the calm isolation as Agnes skips into the serene tea room. We’re attracting attention. Her dark hair is ruffled in every direction creating a pixie like bed-head. I comment on her creative hairdo and she exclaims “I know! Isn’t it exciting! I woke up and it was so interesting I just had to dress to match!” She pulls off her jacket revealing pink stripped knee socks under cutoff jeans and a lime green hoodie speckled with stars. She’s fabulous.

Moments ago this room was filled with strangers but the walls have been broken as Agnes giggles into her tea. She seems carefree but there’s an edge of uncertainly hidden within her laugh.

I have faith in her. There is strength masked by excitement. She’s not as carefree as she seems. She’s not as young at heart as she portrays. Quiet experience layers into the image of the joyful girl that sits across from me.

Few people bother to look deeper than the surface. They see a happy-go-lucky child. I see an amazing young woman who has chosen to hold onto the hope. I have a lot faith in Agnes. I feel how deep that strength runs. She’s a smart girl. She just doesn’t talk about it. I know the girl that soaks up the world around her, watching everything, devouring books and laughing through it all.

I’m reminded of Trevor when I’m with Agnes. There is a deep power that comes from facing mortality and making the choice to live each day. There is an appreciation of sunrises and rainbows that not many people see. I miss Trevor. I cried yesterday thinking about him. I miss his exuberance and conviction.

An older woman watched our conversation and listened from a nearby table. Our seemly frivolous girl talk revealed questions of choices, maturity, fear, and capability amidst the chuckles. As the woman buttoned her coat she smiled at us “You have a beautiful friendship.”
I knew she’d been listening. “Thank you.” I replied. Agnes giggled and slurped her tea.