May 15th, 1821

Today was a lazy day.

Sonia washed my hair. I know I could very well do it myself. I do not want to call the maids everytime I drop a knife like aunt Emeline does.

But Sonia enjoys washing my hair while I am sitting in the tub although she considers it a shame that I cut it above the shoulders one morning with kitchen cissors.

I stayed in the tub a few hours until my fingers turned wrinkly and the water cold. I did not talk nor wrapped my mind in watery thoughts. I listened instead. Sonia talked. She talked about her daily life, the other maids, her ill mother, the boy she likes and sees at the market, her horse-populated dreams.

I focused on her words. I felt her repressed worries, childish joy, shaken certitudes through the way her fingers were slightly pulling my hair or tracing complicated patterns on my back.

Most of the time I feel detached from many situations people are in, especially when they repeat their stories and complain about them. But because Sonia has a pretty soul and embraces whatever comes her way I listened and slowly felt a deep empathy for her.

I understood her. Truly. We often say we understand someone when we actually only perceive that someone’s attitude, reasoning or choice as logical, in tune with our principles or society’s.

I did accept her words as my own and her feelings as mine until the hot water fog dissipated.

When I came out of the tub, Sonia did not seem to notice my nudity but she stopped talking and smiled at me as if recognizing a sister.

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