Some people come into your life, stay for a while, then disappear again – and then there are people like Sophia. She is not a chance acquaintance, not a fleeting friendship that fades in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Sophia is an anchor, a fixed point in my life. We met in 2010, in a place so far away that it seemed almost unreal, in a country that changed us both in a way we couldn't understand at the time.
We were there, each with our own story, our own reasons. It was a foreign country with a foreign culture, but nothing felt foreign. From the very beginning, there was a mutual understanding, a familiarity, as if we had always known each other. I don't know if it was fate or just a lucky coincidence – but even then I knew that Sophia would not remain just an acquaintance.
She was impressive even then. Smart, quick-witted, beautiful – one of those people who can challenge you in a conversation and make you laugh at the same time. She was direct without being hurtful. She said things as they were, and she had a way of bringing me back to earth with a look.
After our time in that ‘far, far away’ country, life took us in different directions. Later, we were both in Berlin, but we didn't see each other often. Sometimes we lost touch, lived our own lives, made decisions that didn't always affect the other. And yet - Sophia was never really gone.
Some friendships work even at a distance. You can go months, maybe years, without the foundation changing. Sophia was one of those people. Now, in 2024, she is more intensely in my life than ever before. And that is more important to me now than I could ever put into words.
If you had to describe me, it would probably be with the word ‘chaotic’. I am a master at losing things, being late and complicating my life with far too many thoughts. Sophia, on the other hand, is... organised. Not in an exaggerated, stuffy sense, but in a way that gives me security. When I stumble through the world, she catches me before I hit the ground too hard.
We have our rituals. One of them: coffee.
We often meet at our favourite café. A small, unassuming place where time passes more slowly. Sophia is always early, I'm always late. She's already sitting at our table, one hand around her cup, while I stumble in breathlessly because I either took the wrong bus or lost my phone or because there was a line at the supermarket that seemed like a bad joke.
She raises an eyebrow. ‘Let me guess. You're late because you helped an old lady cross the street?’
I shake my head. ’No. I'm late because my shoes have mysteriously disappeared in the hallway.’
‘That's called disorder.’
‘That's called life.’
She laughs. That's what I like about her – she can tease me without it sounding critical. Our conversations cover all sorts of topics. Sometimes we talk about profound things. About life, death, things that make us happy or keep us up at night. Sometimes we discuss completely absurd topics.
‘I believe that the true definition of a successful person is someone who always hangs their towel so that it dries optimally,’ I once said.
Sophia blinked at me. ’That's the deepest wisdom you have today?’
‘Think about it. It requires a certain amount of foresight and planning. The true heroes of everyday life are not the philosophers, but the people who have their everyday logistics under control.’
‘So the ones who never lose track?’
‘Exactly.’
We clink our coffee cups together. It's these small, seemingly insignificant conversations that make me feel alive. They remind me that life is not just made up of big moments, but of all the small, unassuming moments that are perfect in their simplicity.
I never used to have my fear today, which Sophia understands very well.
Of course, there are other days too. Days when the reality of my illness overwhelms me. Days when I wonder how much time I have left. Sophia knows this. She doesn't pressure me to talk about it, but she knows exactly when to ask the right questions.
‘Are you afraid?’ she asks me one day as we walk in the park.
I hesitate. Then I nod. ’Yes.’
She looks at me for a long time, then says, ‘You're allowed to.’
No “But you had a full life.” No “But you should focus on the positive.” Just this simple acknowledgment that it's okay to feel the way I feel.
I look at her. ’That was your wisest sentence today.’
She smiles. ‘Right after the towel one, right?’
I laugh. Because I can laugh with her, even when I'm scared.
Sophia, who rescues me without knowing it.
No matter what happens to me, Sophia will be there. Not because she is a healer or can take away my fear. But because she holds me without me having to ask for it. When I'm weak, she's strong for me. When I'm strong, she laughs with me. When I don't know what to do with my thoughts, she gives them space. I don't know if she realises how important she is to me. Maybe I should tell her more often. Maybe I should tell her that she does more for me than words could ever express. But I think she knows. Because she's Sophia.
My very best friend, my angel and my support in a life that sometimes gets completely out of control – thank you from the bottom of my heart. And no matter how long I live, as long as Sophia is around, there will always be a reason to laugh.
One day I will be on a new planet in a new country, where the animals and nature around me give me companionship and freedom. The nature surrounding this house is a source of inexhaustible peace and beauty that gives me a sense of being – simple, peaceful and fulfilled. In this solitude, I feel secure and connected to all living things, as if the world, nature and I were in harmony, each part of the other, each a mirror of the whole. Sometimes I sit on my porch and look up at the sky. I watch the clouds drift across the land and listen to the distant sound of the sea or the whisper of the wind in the trees. It is a life without want, without worries, just the vastness and silence of nature that sustains me. Here, in this wonderful place, I find everything I have ever sought.
But then something happened... I stayed a little longer... stayed a very long time... stayed forever.
I keep dreaming of Sophia, and sometimes I dream of living with her. She is still much too young, only 48 years old, and I miss her very much. She is my angel, my dream.