Semi Secret Sophie🌙✨

9/15/2025

When I first moved to the tiny country town of Alba, Texas, in the fourth grade, I wasn’t ready. My world had been bigger before, bustling cities, diversity, anonymity. But this place was small. (We’re talking about 300 people in the WHOLE TOWN.) It was quiet in a way that felt too loud inside my heart. I was nine, maybe ten, and suddenly thrust into a space where everything I thought I understood about life had to be recalibrated. 

Fourth grade is supposed to be about multiplication and division. Spelling tests and school plays. You’re learning who you are in the safest ways possible. But for me, that year was about survival. Adjusting. Trying not to be swallowed by the unfamiliar. 

But I got lucky. 

Two people changed everything: Alex and Nicole. They were the first to truly see me. Nicole was wild and sharp and soft in the ways only best friends can be. And Alex? He’s been my ride-or-die ever since. His initials are even tattooed on my left arm, etched into my skin like the foundation he’s always been. 

But life has never promised permanence. 

Our senior year, we lost Nicole. 

I still remember that day vividly… being called into the library with the other seniors, the hush of confusion rippling through the group. Nicole hadn’t been at school that week, and I already felt something was off. When I walked into that room, I scanned for her immediately. My eyes searched every corner, every face. 

She wasn’t there. 

Because she was gone. 

Overdose. Alone at home. 

The kind of death that leaves questions clawing at your ribs for years to come. 

I still wear the friendship ring we “borrowed” from Scarborough Faire our sophomore year. It’s probably brass, but it means more than diamonds ever could. It’s one of the last physical things I have left of her. She’s not gone. She’s with me in every laugh that echoes too loudly, in every road trip playlist, in every memory I don’t have to explain to anyone but Alex. 

And now, Alex is grieving too. 

Just days after the anniversary of Nicole’s passing, he’s saying goodbye to his mother, Linda. She passed away this weekend after a long and painful health battle in hospice care. 

And I am aching all over again. 

Not just for Nicole. Not just for Linda. But for the weight of it all. The cruel way grief ripples across time, dragging old wounds to the surface when we least expect it. 

Seventeen years. 

It doesn’t stop hurting. It just softens. Becomes part of your patchwork. Some days, it glows warm, nostalgic, tender. And others… like today… it burns through you like the moment never ended. 

So I’m writing this to remember. 

To honor Nicole. 
To honor Linda. 
To stand next to Alex as he grieves. 
And to remind myself that it’s okay to carry people with us, every single day. 

Some friendships don’t end. 
They just change shape. 
And some grief never fully leaves. 
But neither does the love. 

xx,

Soph