Vignette

Tan like me, brave like me, and strong like me. Carlos, I miss you. I remember this day like if it was yesterday. How can people be so heartless? So cold- blooded and messed up. I was eight, but I had a great memory. I told him I wanted to learn how to ride my bike. I never had anyone there to teach me anyway. Every time I mentioned it to him, he always replied “When I have time, I promise I will take you to the park, teach you how to ride your bike, and even buy you a brand new one”. This was a nightmare, my number one memory as a child, I lost him, and I lost myself.

He told me he was making a lot of money, and with that money he was going to buy me princess dress. So that, I could look like the rich, white, blonde, blue eyed princesses on the movies. He never lied to me, I believed in him. He called me his princess all the time. I truly miss him. The nightmare started on a beautiful sunny day, the sun was smiling at us. He came home early that day; it was about 3pm in the afternoon, November 2004, eight years ago, eight years with memories. He showered, and I waited for him. He told me he was taking me to the park. He grabbed me and helped me get on his red motorcycle. He was going too fast, my mouth was wobbling. We had arrived to the park, he told me to hold on tight, to hold on really tight, to hold on tight, and to never let go. He rushed through his words and said, “I love you, just hold on tight." Two men across the street shot him in the head, his arm, and ankle. Everything was too quick, quicker than a blink. He fell on top of me, and the motorcycle on top of my right leg. I didn’t have time to react, no, no time.

No time at all, no time, no time to call anybody for help, to say, I love you back, to call the ambulance, to call my grandma, to help him stop bleeding. No, no time. I was lying on the floor facing the back of his head, with everyone looking down at us. Yes, a crowd full of people that couldn’t help him, that didn’t bother on helping him. He died immediately, and I am scarred for the rest of my life. I have a six-inch cut on my right thigh, and my heart that could never be healed. I never learned to ride a bike, never looked like a stupid princess, and I didn’t smile for a year. It’s insane how smiles can be taken away from you in a matter of time, and how bad memories can last forever.

My hope started to fade away, my dreams to fall apart, and my heart to break in pieces. Every now and then when I go to Colombia, I go to his grave, and tell him stories about how I finally learned to fake a smile. Rest in peace my little soldier. His memories made me changed the way I view life, everything happens for a reason, and just like happy moments can appear in a matter of time, tragedies can too. You’re were taking away me, but you’re my angel. Now I know not to take anything for granted, and to appreciate the small things in life, and the smiles you remember from the people you love the most.