Sister Of My Heart

She was one of the jovial ones.

The most approachable of them all.

Though she is from my ethnic group, we are not from the same state, but then there was just this connection between us right from the beginning.

Or maybe it was because she was just so outgoing and cheerful with everyone?

Well, I want to believe she liked me specially.

Her type was rare to find in this new world I find myself in.

A world where some were trying to prove they are what they are not.

One where most were trying to be a part of a clique and eager to show how much they don't care about others outside their clique? She was like a fresh breath of air in the way she mingled with everyone whether they were from our department or not.

There I was, a fresher with no bearing of what the school has in store for me yet.

My mom had to fight tooth-and-nail to make sure I got here eventually.

She had to do all she could to ensure I didn't get left behind by my mates.

So, asking her for the extra for upkeep and foodstuffs was not something I could do in a good conscience.

I watch everyone flaunting their new wears, new looks and new attitudes while I try so hard not to compare myself. When others are fully focused in class, I try hard not to think of how I will pay for a recommended book or how I will manage to eat for at least once in a day in the upcoming days. I am not one who complains but soon enough, the rigours of school work were beginning to weigh on me. It wasn't really about the activities, but more about doing most of it on empty stomach and dwindling hope.

Then she smiled at me one day the way she always did.

That smile of hers always lifted something in me somehow.

I guess she was just so used to giving it to everyone.

But that day. That day was different.

She was already passing me in the company of her friends, then she turned back and came closer to me.

I gave her a curious look as she tilted her head with a little frown on her face while giving me a scrutiny with her kind eyes.

“What…what?” I asked a bit nervously.

She beamed at me and asked gently, “Are you fine?”

Those words.

Those were alien words I have not heard in a while.

It almost moved me to tears and I had to blink rapidly to stem the onslaught. Boys don't cry after all.

I didn't let her see how much her question meant to me as I gave her my automated response.

She gave me a sceptical look and asked again, “Are you really fine?”

Her emphasis on the word really was just too much to bear.

Here I thought I had become invisible to everyone.

Here I thought my silent, easygoing type was swallowed in all these rowdiness around me, but someone noticed me.

She noticed me.

I told her the same thing and she nodded slowly in that way that showed that someone did not really believe you.

Then she patted my shoulder gently and said, “Everything will work out fine. God will always make a way.”

She turned to leave after her customary See you around.

It was as if something propelled me to do it. I called her and walked to her.

I opened my mouth to tell her the most daunting issue I was facing at the moment, then it was as if I couldn't stop talking.

I told her things I haven't spoken about with anyone in a long time.

She listened attentively like I mattered and didn't interrupt me as I poured out my heart.

Then she gently held my hand, prayed with me and gave me directions to her out-of-campus hostel.

And that was how I gained a sister.

One who listens to me when I need to air it all out. One who goes out of her way to ensure that I am not stranded even when there was no way I could get anything from home. One whom my mom appreciates dearly even though they have never met. Whenever I want to thank her for the provisions and unexpected care, she would just dismiss it with the statement of “All thanks belong to God. He provides so I can be in the position to help you. Stop with the excess thanks already. Just take me as your sister.”

That goes without saying.

She was and would forever be; THE SISTER OF MY HEART.