In the summer of 2016, I met someone who changed the course of my life—Sofia (with an F, not a PH). We were 18, living in dorm rooms across from each other. One with a wavy bob of dirty blonde hair, the other with a sleek black bob.
Nine years later, she’s still here—my best friend, my mirror. We’re eerily similar, loving the same things (though, miraculously, never the same men) and sharing the same humor. From first dates to first breakups, she’s been there for it all: nine birthdays, three boyfriends, twelve haircuts, four jobs, and one too many embarrassing iMessages. She knows me better than all three of my exes combined.
Through it all, Sofia has always been soft. Never judgmental—just laughing, empathizing, listening. With her, I have never felt the need to filter myself. She is lightness and warmth, humor and kindness wrapped into one. Her effortless joy makes life feel brighter, makes me feel brighter. Around her, I can say anything.
Some people find romantic soulmates, but not everyone finds a soulmate in friendship. For that, I am forever grateful.
She loves color. She loves ice cream. She loves persimmons. And when she holds persimmons in her hands, it’s like she makes fire—warming everyone around her.
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