Her life has been so difficult. I don’t know how she does it. She gets out of her bed, comes to school, and smiles a big, fake smile for her teachers, she even eats regularly. She doesn’t cut herself despite her depression. She doesn’t complain, or even cry in school. She is such a strong girl at such a young age.

Before sixth grade let out in 2007, I got a call from my friend Melanie. Her flustered, distressed voice flew at me in a hiss of static through the phone, “Katie, call Vida,” she said, “Vida’s mom has a problem.”

I called Vida, but her sister answered. “Hello?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Oh my goodness Alex, are you alright?” I asked the sobbing girl.


“No,” she replied and handed the phone to Vida. Vida wasn’t crying though, she was in shock. Her mother had been taken out of her house on a stretcher, shirtless and gasping for breath as the paramedics stood around and cracked jokes while others worked to revive Vida’s mother. Vida felt like it was a dream, or rather, a sick nightmare from which she would never wake.

Days went by and Vida hid her pain very well. She smiled, she laughed, she wore a mask of happiness, but a mask hides all but your eyes and through them, I could tell she was miserable. She didn’t want her misery to rub off on others, so she kept to her self and took to writing poetry.

Through her poetry, Vida conveyed her emotions. She blamed herself for what had happened to her mom. She told herself: You should have saved her! You could have saved her. You stressed her out too much! It’s all your fault.


Vida still stresses out over the condition of her mom. She goes to visit her a lot, she keeps her artwork around the house, she speaks of her mother as though nothing was wrong with her. With her mommy gone Vida is a new person, but I have only heard her actually say aloud one thing about her mom being in a predicament, and it was when she was heart broken and failing school; I want my mommy.