La Extrano (I Miss Her)

La Extrano ...

I miss, only but a few things about, “her.”

I miss her brilliance, a light that she brought to my life that has been absent ever since.

I miss her voice, the unmistakably pressured speech that flowed through tightly clenched teeth and pursed lips.

I miss her smile, the shy, uneasy, yet adorable way she would grin as if she didn't know how.

I miss tearing up the mall around Christmas time for her, as she was truly appreciative of the bounty I brought back to the city of angels. Giving was its own gift as I got to see her eyes light up as she opened up her presents.

I miss her body laying on top of and next to mine. Her petite pear-shaped figure had a gelatinous consistency that simply melted into my own weight.

I miss the inside jokes, most of which concerned ghetto-isms that she lived and I admired her for surviving.

I miss the way she would make me proud of her and us. Nobody expected us to last as long we did. Even though it was only two and a half years, people somehow seemingly expected us to fail even sooner. She would run into mutual acquaintances on campus, and tell them we were still alive and kicking, then report the interactions back to me. This would make me indescribably proud and joyful.

I miss her voracious intellectual appetite, and how she would devour books of all genres and report her findings back to me (usually while sitting on my lap, after being asked playfully to, “park it.”)

I miss saying, “park your keister, meester;” a Marge Simpson-inspired request for her to sit on my lap.

I miss saying, “present,” another admittedly less PG request for her to make me smile.

I miss, even more specifically, her intellect and inquisitiveness as she would be my "scout" for information, devouring books by Mexican authors (e.g. the late, great Carlos Fuentes and Octavio Paz), and then reporting her findings back to me.

I miss her being the one-stop shop for all of my social needs.

I miss the magnetic pull she had over me. I remember being out with my friends at a party on campus one night, and all I could do was think about her. I couldn't wait to leave, and ending up doing so early, to come home, lay next to her, and watch a Reese Witherspoon movie, Freeway, that she liked.

I miss her deep, layered, complex spirit, embattled soul, and textured personality.

I miss how she was like ready-made family when I was 3,000 miles away from my own; a yet-to-be wife, who had the familiarity of a cousin, the vulnerability of a daughter, the warmth of a mother, the soul of a sister.

I miss the way she would stare at me for no reason, her longing gaze through strikingly round orbs that protruded ever so slightly and were separated like those of an owlish or “Frawwg” as I jokingly used to say at the time. I often wondered if she could see more than is typical through her seemingly magical, “windows to the soul.”

I miss the way we were in our own world together; in a time when nothing mattered except our shared space.

I miss the way she would teach me Spanish idioms that she would utter when exasperated (hijo de su puta madre maaaan!” was one of the first but certainly not the last), and laugh when I spoke properly due to my textbook training. 

I miss her being my down-ass chick, that went go extreme lengths to prove her love, though she didn't even have to, most of the time I was left nonplussed at her demonstrations of affection and affinity (e.g., the tattoo she got after knowing me less than a year, her wilin’ out on campus security on our behalf, her going to the campus fraternity row after her man had been jumped to find his attackers, etc.)

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I miss the wildly unpredictable, usually inappropriate, things that would come out of her mouth at any given time.

I miss her, the cheerleader who wasn't afraid to tell me how special she thought I was, at any given time without prompting.

I miss her fearlessness, wrapped up in her five-foot frame.

I miss her fiery temper that would explode on impulse.

I miss her uncommon honesty, a bluntness that rubbed many the wrong way, but one that I adored.

I miss her inexorable dedication to self-improvement.

I miss her introspective queries that began with, "Do you think___??"

I miss our shared love of music, and her ears that would listen to the same rap songs as me, just to hear a clever/favorite line of mine

I miss her diving into my world head-first.

I miss her preoccupation with the number seven (perhaps why I felt compelled to write this on 7/7)

I miss her irreplaceable, run-through-a-wall-for-you love.

I miss her; boy, I tell ya, I miss her.