Sophia

So, I first met Sophia in my ancient Greek history class at university.  Apparently, I would enter the class by dancing down the aisle (I don’t recall it, but don’t deny the possibility) and she thought I must meet that girl. As the world would have it, we lived on the same floor in the dormitory.  Eventually we would share an apartment off campus. 

Sophia was tall and strikingly beautiful.  She was Greek and looked like an ancient statue come to life.  She was intense, looked intimidating but was a kind and golden soul. We were very different people but had much in common.  She was getting her degree in art history and I loved art.  I was getting my degree in history and she was fascinated by it. She took a modern Japanese literature course and I read every single one of the books. When it was her turn to cook dinner, she did it with a zeal usually seen in conductors of great symphonies.  A towel thrown over her shoulder, her hair in an eighteenth century bun and the chopping, peeling or brazing would commence.  The meal was always an event.

When Sophia came to visit one summer, I had the brilliant idea of introducing her to Alana, a friend from home. I thought they’d be fast friends, after all they had so much in common.  Both specializing in the same period of art history, they read the same books, liked the same music and so on.  The setting was my bedroom.  The dislike for each other was instantaneous.  I tried to get the party started, playing favorite songs, reminding them of conversations we had, but they weren’t interested. An hour was eternity.  It was a life lesson, just because everything points to friendship doesn’t mean it will happen.

One very cold snowy night (this describes every night at school) we were comfy in our apartment when Sophia got a phone call.  Professor xxx was coming over.  She grabbed me and said, “Do not leave the room.  You stay with me.  Promise!”  I promised.  Ostensibly he needed to go over Sophia’s senior thesis.  All three of us knew otherwise.  He came over and was chatty and chatty.  Time passed. He got less chatty. Sophia went to make popcorn.  The professor glared at me.  I was taking his class at the time.  He was a prominent art historian and his Modern Art class was a must.  I’m thinking, he’s going to fail me!!!  The night stretched on and on.  It was a battle of wits.  I never left Sophia’s side.  Eventually we wore him out and he left.  We both aced our classes.

 

Upon graduation Sophia married her childhood sweetheart and moved to Chicago.  We lost touch. A few years ago I went to run the Chicago marathon, and I thought how nice it would be to connect up with her.  I discovered that Sophia had passed away from the same cancer that killed my mother.  I ran the marathon in Sophia’s honor.  It hurts to think of her.  She provided a mooring in my life when things were rather untethered.  I will always be grateful.  Golden Sophia.