English Version: Sands & Sparrow

52

"Are you feeling well?" Sophia inquired, addressing the blind woman cradling a sitar on the bed.

"I'm fine, Sister Sophia," the old woman replied with gratitude. She was a Spanish gypsy who had made the monastery her home and was now residing in a hospital near the convent. Sybil understood Tagalog well and spoke fluent English but felt somewhat shy engaging in conversations with Filipinos in their native tongue.

The corners of Sophia's mouth lifted into a gentle smile. "You should eat so you can recover," she said, holding a warm bowl of soup in one hand and offering a spoonful to Sybil with the other.

"I'm already weak, but I never tire of living," Sybil said softly. A brisk breeze entered through the open window, causing pages from a nearby book to rustle. She turned her face towards the window, savoring the cool air on her skin.

Sophia carefully wiped away a smudge from Sybil's lips. "Do you still remember your home?" She cherished the times when the blind woman shared stories of her life in Spain.

A wry smile crossed Sybil's wrinkled lips as she closed her eyes. "I don't own a home... I fell in love and have been broken ever since."

"I've never heard you speak of your loved one before," Sophia remarked as she fed Sybil another spoonful of soup, gently wiping her lips afterward.

Sybil drew a deep breath, her mind drifting back to the past. "It's love, Sister Sophia. You let them go, even if it means suffering inside. That's how you love between uncertainties; it brings sorrow. It's like letting them escape from murder, even though they've already killed you."

Sybil had been blind since her husband left her for another woman, transforming her life into that of a wandering gypsy. She traveled across Europe and, in a twist of fate, rescued Sister Clara from the clutches of prostitution. From that moment, the compassionate nun took Sybil under her wing, offering her care and sanctuary.

"Do you know what it's like to love?" the blind woman inquired, her eyes closed in contemplation.

"I-I don't know," Sophia responded, turning her face away, surprised by the sudden depth of the question.

Sybil's chest rose and fell with rapid breaths before she laughed softly, finding amusement in Sophia's reply. The innocence in the nun's voice brought a smile to her face. Once again, a gust of wind swept through the room, flipping the pages of a Bible on the table and causing the white curtains to dance in the cool breeze. Sybil grasped her sitar, her fingers tenderly caressing its strings. After Sophia had finished feeding her soup, she placed the bowl back on the table.

"Sister Sophia... people are cowards when it comes to happiness; it takes courage to hold on to it," Sybil remarked. The nun gently wiped Sybil's cheek with a cloth. "I don't understand what you're trying to say, but I will be here to listen," Sophia admitted. Despite not fully grasping Sybil's meaning, she offered her presence and compassion.

"Do you know what it's like to love someone capable of hurting you?" Sybil whispered, posing another profound question.

Sophia was at a loss for words. In the face of such a poignant question, the patient nun answered in silence.

Sybil took a deep breath. "There's a kind of love that isn't a fairy tale. You can fall for the monster. Embracing that kind of love, that person can make you gasp with their tempting lips, burn you with the slightest touch."

"Are you willing to settle for the unknown, Sister Sophia?" She posed a meaningful question to the nun, who appeared lost in thought. A brief silence fell between them.

Suddenly, the church bell rang, resonating within the room—a signal that mass would begin.

"I have to go..." Sophia announced, choosing not to linger on the question; for some reason, she couldn't find the right answer.