Nadia Iwach
Friday | August 14th, 2020.
I met Nadia when I first attempted to create Filmmaking Club my sophomore year. She witnessed me fail miserably with the club logistics—we couldn’t even make our first short film. She was one of the few that saw me vulnerable. I carried that weight with me as I knocked on her door.
The way she (and her Border Collie, Izzy) greeted me at her door was like a warm embrace—she eagerly encouraged me to get comfortable, then took me up her breathtaking spiral staircase.
I wasn’t used to such genuine politeness.
Nadia’s room was quaint, the carpet and walls remained a pristine shade of white. Her shelves were adorned with colorful fiction novels and various acrylic canvases peeked out from behind her furniture.
“I didn’t know she painted.”
I thought as I inspected the large painting of Kermit singing beneath a rainbow.
I glanced behind her, further examining a pair of Disney ears, a family of Disney plushies, and a modest stack of Disney DVDs by her desk. She told of her early life in So-Cal—how she would go to class by day and venture into the depths of Disneyland by night. Excitement shone through her eyes, overpowering her slight twinge of reservation.
We started the game after a spontaneous 10 minute conversation about our apprehension towards Kamala-Biden. It seemed as if our 1 year age gap made absolutely no difference. Her speech and storytelling were gorgeously eloquent, way beyond your average high-schooler.
I tuned in to her childhood stories, turbulent family life, struggles with body image, and messy introduction to the high school dating scene. I was enthralled. We had uncanny similarities: homophobic yet somehow sweet grandparents, a nanny that subbed in for one of our parents for a majority of our childhood, a vicious, ongoing struggle with body image and our mental health. One of her former crushes even dated an ex of mine. We laughed hysterically.
I couldn’t help but feel completely understood.
Nadia was the last person I shot, but the first person to offer me a ride from her place; it was a rare moment in my busy schedule—her small act of kindness gave me a bit of an unexpected break.
I gazed through the windows on the ride home and smiled.
There were still some pretty good people on this planet.