From past lives

It was a new school for Alba, she was 7 years old, and she had just moved to Sevilla with her parents and her older brother. She was shy and hated when Srta. González asked her to introduce herself in front of the class.  

“My name is Alba, I just moved in from Malta” 

Silence. Srta. González was expecting a little more, but Alba sat down and looked at her hands nervously twirling on her laps. Her hand contemplation was interrupted by a note on her table, she looked up and saw a girl with long curly black hair waking towards the trash can to empty the sharpener's bin.  

“Hi, Alba. My name is Carmela, I love your backpack”. The note said

When she looked back up Carmela was coming back smiling at her. Alba shyly smiled back.  

After second period Alba waited on her sit hoping Carmela asked her to have breakfast with her, but she didn’t. The girl went out running and laughing with two boys. Alba took her sandwich and went out on her own. She found a bench under a tree; sat there and ate. After a while, she felt brave enough to go to the park and try to make some friends. She tried the swing, and a hateful boy pushed her and hopped on it first. Alba looked around, she was ok with the pushing, but she would hate anyone noticing it. She kept going and went to the slides; when she was about to take the first step towards the top, the same boy from the swing pulled her from one arm and made his way up the ladder, looked down and smiled. 

“Boys' territory, new girl. You can go back to your bench” 

Alba felt as if all the blood from her body went up to her face and judging from the blurriness of her sight, tears were beginning to fill her eyes. She stood there petrified and felt anger. Anger for her mother who took this awful new job and dragged her whole family away from the island of happiness where she was born. Anger for her father that didn’t convince her mother to stay. Anger of Julian, her brother that didn’t give a damn about the moving because he made new friends wherever he went. 

“I said go back to the bench”. The boy was coming back from the slide and was about to push her when Carmela stood between them. 

“Leave her alone, Rodrigo. Wait for your turn” 

Carmela took Alba by the hand and dragged her to the bottom of the slide's ladder.  

“Up, up... It's your turn” 

Alba went up the ladder and down the slide to find Carmela waiting for her on the bottom 

“Don't you let Rodrigo or anyone else treat you like that... ever” 

Alba looked down at her hands and Carmela put her arm around her. 

“Come, were playing hide and seek. Wanna play?” 

--- 

That is how Ma and aunt Alba met, forever ago 

I loved every time aunt Alba told me that story, and all the others.

For many, many years I tried to have a friendship just like theirs, but it took me time to understand that their story was unique and that there was something bigger and stronger in their bond. Something magical. 

From day one Ma made sure aunt Alba felt home. She introduced her to her friends and made very clear to every bully that she was untouchable, she showed her around, the good bathrooms and the nasty ones. Taught her also that Thursdays were the best days to eat at the cafeteria and that Sra Mireya was pretty generous on the dessert.  Ma lend Alba her notes so she could quickly catch up, she rode the bus home that first day, even when she had her bike, just to make sure my aunt made it home ok. Aunt Alba told me that for the first time ever she felt ok with someone’s attention, because it felt real and unconditional. 

Soon after the park, after Rodrigo, the slide and the swing, Ma and aunt Alba were known in their school as one. People rarely referred to Alba without referring to Ma, and vice versa. They had a lot of friends throughout the years. Some came, and some went, but Carmela and Alba remained, always. People often asked them if they were related, even though they didn’t look alike, at all. Ma is tall with fine face features and a very curvy figure. Aunt Alba is short, straight light brown hair, skinny and pale. I see the difference, but I also understand why no one doubted if they said they were sisters. 

I once asked mom of she believed in other lives and reincarnation: 

“Honey, only the existence of past lives can explain my friendship with Alba. We read each other’s minds, she knows when I’m sad even before o realize I am, and sometimes, when I am troubled, just thinking about sharing my thoughts with her makes me feel better. Yes, I believe we live more than one life”. 

Their lives were full of coincidences. When they were 13 they spent the summer apart  outside of Sevilla and they both had their first boyfriend and their kiss during those vacations. When they got back to school they were both eager to share their love story with each other: 

“Your mom told me the whole story and I told her mine, we couldn’t stop smiling. We hugged and jumped around celebrating each other happiness. Do you know what their names were?” 

“Of course” said the 11 years old me fascinated with another tale about them. 

“Miguel” 

“And the other one?” 

“Miguel. What were the odd uh?"

That was the first obvious coincidence in their lives. I grew up hearing that kind of stories. And it always amazed me the energy when they were together.  

Today I sit here, at the nursing home they started paying for themselves when they were 50 and 52, and can’t help doing anything but crying while I see them in the garden lost in their senile minds but clearly planning their next life without talking, because they never needed to talk to understand each other. 

I really hope I meet back with them in my next life.