pura vida;;

There was a girl, we'll call her ... Vida. Vida, she had a beautiful smile. The creases gave way to crooked teeth and an easy laugh, and did she laugh. Her laughter was pure, and strong, and clear.

She moved through the world, a naive young girl, learning, and backtracking, and finding her way. She traveled often and far, and lived among many people whose beliefs were as varied as their fingerprints.

Her intuition led her to the depths of glances, and shy smiles, and casual conversation. She felt it all. Her soul filled with others tears, and heartache, and fears, and their love, unbidden and whole, traveled to the depths of her belly, and settled there, spreading goodness to the tips of her fingers.

Vida, at some point along her path, felt her own pain, a truer pain than others had been in the past, a pain that radiated to the depths of her belly, and settled there, spreading an ache and longing to the tips of her fingers.

Vida felt broken. Her life, her core, her center, it was off-balance, and she was uncertain, for the first time, what to do.

Her face felt the creases, foreign and new, attempting to spread over her teeth, crooked and white, to release a laugh, pure, strong, and clear, but for the first time, no sound came out.

Yet she would not stop. Unknown to Vida, her pain would one day, diminish. Her lips would give way to crooked teeth, and an easy laugh, and she would laugh. Strong, and clear, and pure.

Her vida will not stop here.