It was a normal rainy day in London. My family and I were set for a long road trip to visit my parents' childhood friends in Canterbury - a small town 2 hours away from the city. My parents were reminiscing about the times they spent hanging out at the town's local diner during their teenage years. On the other hand, my older sister, Amy, and my younger brother, Adrian, were squabbling about which song to play on the radio. Amy wanted to listen to Taylor Swift's Our Song while Adrian wanted to sing along to Linkin Park's Waiting for the End.
I tuned out of their heated argument and just continued to read a Jane Austen novel I brought with me. Suddenly, just completely out of the blue, a flash of light blinded me as a great impact collided with our car sending us furiously tumbling down the mountainous terrains of Canterbury. I barely heard somebody shout my name before everything went dark.
3 years later...
I woke up gasping with tears running down my face as I recalled the dream I had earlier. It has been three years since that traumatizing incident but I still kept on having vivid recollections of that fateful day. When I learned that my whole family passed away because of that car crash, a part of me had died.
I completely broke off all connections with my friends in London and moved away to live with my aunt in Birmingham. I was known as the quiet new girl who kept everyone away at an arm's length. I didn't talk much to anyone unless I was spoken to. I didn't go anywhere else unless I had to. I especially didn't become close with anyone - not even my aunt - since it happened.
But one person has stayed with me through it all no matter how much I tried to close myself off to everyone I met. Aria didn't force me to talk to her about my past like everybody did when I first arrived. She simply sat with me in school everyday ever since the time she noticed me eating alone with no one bothering to make an effort to talk to me. She eventually made me slowly open up to her when I became comfortable with her gratifying presence. She lent me a listening ear and offered a shoulder to cry on when I finally expressed all the feelings I had kept cooped up within me for 3 years. She was compassionate with my situation but she didn't say words like "It's okay", "I'm sorry" and "I understand" like most people would if I told them the full story of my past.
Aria gave me hope that maybe, there are real people out there who wouldn't mind lending a hand to people whose situations are similar with mine. She gave me hope that compassion hadn't died down in our generation and maybe - just maybe - one compassionate person is all that it takes to turn someone else's life around..
