Matryoshkas

Olga and Verushka, legendary Russian dolls; they can dance, they can sing, they can fill a room with joy. They are happy all the time, they are beautiful and alive; so delicate yet so strong and as different as two little rain drops.

I discovered them together, more than twenty years ago. They were sitting on a piano, making jokes, blowing some smoke. The place was packed with curious people, we all wanted to see why, from all places in all Tombstone this was the one preferred by all.

We took pictures, they kept laughing… they made us feel vibrant and young. With our sarsaparilla sparkling making a toast to the Russian dolls.

Twenty plus years had passed since then, the Russian dolls became adults. Verushka moved up north where is cold, exchanged the feathers for a coat; she is a mother of three little miracles that make her day full and her nights sometimes long; always making sure everybody is ready, spreading hugs, kisses and love.

Olga grew older, she married her true love. She has no kids, but two loving dogs. Switched from the piano to other keyboard, constantly traveling observing the world. Her hair has grays disguised professionally, her eyes are starting to show some lines; she still loves music, to dance and sing, friends and good moments complete the scene.

I found their picture at the bottom of a miracle’s chest. I looked at them, still so young…made me remember, they are Russian dolls…just open the layers, pop-up the first and then some more, keep digging further until the final one, the center piece is the heart and soul…forever seventeen, forever young; layer after layer becoming a whole…to make them better but never old.

To my high school friend Veronica... to my high school self.