Noro

His name was Noro. He was thirty-two. And he was my best friend. And he always will be.
“Stop, stop!” I am trying to shout thru loud happy laughing. I am the happiest five years old child in the world. Noro is firmly holding my hands and twirling me around like on the roller coaster.
I am walking home from school, cheerfully talking to my grandmother, holding her hand and jumping around. But I can feel that something is wrong. “This is not right,” I say to myself. I gaze at her with the wonder of six years old child, but she does not tell me anything. She just gives me a fast glimpse and smiles with sadness in her wet eyes trying to hold the tears. I am a child, and I know. I know that something happened, something she does not want to tell me. So we are just walking, side by side, without any words. We are not holding our hands anymore, we are just walking and starring into the ground, listening to the silence of our thoughts and a weak echo of the cars, birds and summer in the background.

The longest five minutes in my life. I open the door, step into the flat and jump into my mother’s hands, noticing her red eyes and make-up smudged on her cheeks. I start to cry. I have no reason but I am a child, and I know. She whispers to my ear. Her silent voice has never been stronger before. “Noro fell asleep…forever.” Those words are bouncing in my head, sounding louder and louder, making me feel lost. And I do not believe. I do not want to believe. I am six years old but I understand the meaning of what she just said. I am angry for a while because of using that word but I forgive her, knowing that she just does not want to hurt me. It does not help though. “He cannot be dead,” I say. She just stares at the ground and I can see the tar drop falling on the wooden floor. I cannot cry, I cannot say anything, I cannot move. I am just standing there, gazing at the white wall.

I could not cry when I was six and I have never cried because of Noro. I am sixteen. I am walking from school, thinking of Noro with echo of cars, birds and summer in the background. I am alone and I am smiling. He gave me my new father, my real father. And I am thankful. I open the door, walk into the flat and hug my father. I have lost somebody who I loved but I have found somebody who I love with all my heart. And I always will. I am not a child anymore, but I know.

His name was Noro. He was thirty-two. And he was my best friend. And he always will be.