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A calm crisp breeze circled my body as I sat emerged in my thoughts, hopes, and memories. The rough bark on which I sat reminded me of the rough road many people have traveled, only to end with something no one in human form can contemplate. “How can the complex working of the universe and the world around me end in such a simple catastrophe?” I wondered. I sat back and let the sun bathe me in its bright, reminiscent light. The atmosphere around me was quiet, but just a few feet away people were mourning a great life. It was a life that some say was “lived to the longest and the fullest.” I ,on the other hand, held a solid disagreement. The “longest” couldn’t yet be over, could it? Seventy-five just seemed too short when I had only shared thirteen years with this fabulously, wonderful woman. I stood up, as the loud vibrations of the church bells seem to touch my heart. I crossed the long, seemingly endless stream of soft healthy green grass to the black box, which lay just as I had left it in its own solitude. Inside of it lay the violin in which I had devoted a lot of my middle school life to. I had spent many hours practicing on this wooden contraption. Now all of my hard work, all of my hours practicing, would go into making this one piece sound amazing, spectacular, and memorable. This wasn’t something I was doing for myself. This was something I was doing for my family, friends, and most importantly the sweet, cherished soul of my dearly departed grandmother. I wanted there to be one last remarkable token of my love for someone who had made such a large impact on my life. I knew that my grandmother had absolutely loved the fact that I play a violin. She had always said that I held so much talent. “This,” I thought, “will be something that she truly would have wanted.” I opened the box and looked at the soft velvet casing. The freshly polished wood of my instrument glittered golden brown in the evening sun. I reached for it and picked it up. The usually very light instrument seemed to weigh more than I could ever remember. I walked in a straight line up the side of the church building. I passed the graves of many of the dead as I made my way to the door.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
of how difficult and time-consuming it may have been. Playing an instrument is a great way to take one’s
As I walked through the door of the funeral home, the floral arrangements blurred into a sea of vivid colors. Wiping away my tears, I headed over to the collage of photographs of my grandfather. His smile seemed to transcend the image on the pictures, and for a moment, I could almost hear his laughter and see his eyes dancing as they tended to do when he told one of his famous jokes. My eyes scanned the old photographs, searching for myself amidst the images. They came to rest on a photo of Grandpa holding me in his lap when I was probably no more than four years old. The flowers surrounding me once again blended into an array of hues as I let my mind wander……
Growing up as an only child I made out pretty well. You almost can’t help but be spoiled by your parents in some way. And I must admit that I enjoyed it; my own room, T.V., computer, stereo, all the material possessions that I had. But there was one event in my life that would change the way that I looked at these things and realized that you can’t take these things for granted and that’s not what life is about.
It was a biting cold, August day, where Ell Johnson, a fourteen year old student at Myers High School. It seemed like any other day, but this was special to her. Ell was never like the other kids. She would always look outside, watching the pitter patter of rain drops create puddles outside the classroom, looking for something in the water, something that she just couldn’t underst- “Ell!” her music teacher called to her. She immediately looked back to the front of the class room and saw Mrs. Prisley glaring at her. “Sorry, I thought I saw something outside”, Ell answered, flipping through her music book. “Maybe you should have seen what page we were ...
On the Monday October 27th, 2014, for the first time in 4 years I did not wake up at 5:30 in the morning, I was not putting on a green skivvy shirt and shorts. There was no formation, no one that was higher command I had to report to, telling me where I had to go, what time I had to eat breakfast, what was I doing this day or what our platoon plans were for the day. There were no PT (physical training) I had to do this morning. Instead, I woke up grab a regular t-shirt, khaki shorts, and my two sea bags full of clothing and gear that I collected during my time in the Marine Corps. I threw everything in my vehicle and drove from Camp Pendleton, California to Quincy, Illinois. Within two weeks I was accepted to Southern Illinois University Carbondale. For three days, I stayed at the
Nothing could be worst than your dad bringing up "THE CONVERSATION." Starting at age 5 I loved playing soccer,running up and down the field, making moves and kicking balls to the back of the net was always the way to go. Soccer meant the world to me and especially playing with my best friends since the day I started. My days would go something like this, go to school,get home,do homework then get ready and go to a beautiful fun day at soccer!After soccer I would go home sit on the couch and eat.I was a lazy one. That's why I hoped my dad would never ever bring up this conversation.... But he did anyways.
I moved to Fresno, California and worked as caregiver sometime in the summer 2012. I lived there for about 7 months then I moved to New York in December 2012. My friend Alvin Almonte invited me to work in New York because he said job opportunities were much better here and that New York is much more accessible. I lost my immigration status in November 2011, while I was in Arizona. In my contract, I was assured that after three years (supposedly 2009-2012), the employer would apply for my Green Card. This was clearly not the case. I was working as a temporary hotel worker with an uncertain status. I started to work as buzzer in a restaurant in New York. Currently, I am working as caregiver for the elderly.
Every student dreams of going to college, but once you are enrolled it’s a challenge to achieve the goal of getting the degree. Weather it has been a friend, family member, or even a neighbor they have their ways of handling the conundrum. My friend Kevin, recently graduated this past year, started of in Middlesex for two years, and then he transferred to Rutgers to finish his career. He graduated from Rutgers and now is an accounting major. Kevin is amiable, hardworking, and deft. During his time at Middlesex and Rutgers, he had a job at Apple, went to the gym, participated in many fundraisers, and volunteer at hospitals. All these task that he did engendered an issue. The issue it created was that he had no time to do anything. He would
I never thought I’d be here, didn’t know this was allowed honestly. The last time I was in this old church was a week ago...doesn’t seem that long to me but for everyone else I can only imagine how long it’s been. 7 little days in scheme of things doesn’t seem that important. 72 hours even more so, it passes in the blink of an eye for most...but for me those 72 hours felt like they would never end. I didn’t even know how long I was there at first, it was so dark...I can hear the piano being played, they’re playing my favorite song I and I can almost hear my mom’s tears hit the ground though the door. I’ve been standing in front of these doors for what seems like forever now waiting...just waiting. Waiting for my moment, I don't know when it will be, that only my Daddy knows….Finally the doors are opening and everyone in the chapel turns to see who is coming in late. They are all looking right at me, each with their own set of bloodshot eyes and tear stained faces. I almost feel like crying myself, never knew how many people actually cared.
Leaving the bodies for last we walked down the drive to take a look. Several rifles and shotguns were leaned carefully again the big oak. Two handguns and some knives were on the grass in front of them. Four people dangled from a branch of the tree close enough to each other to bump like a weird wind chime. A young couple and the other twice their age at a guess from the gray hair and styles of dress. They were probably parents and a married son or daughter with their spouse. Other than being hung there were no injuries apparent on any of the four. From the condition of the bodies they had been dead about a day.
Everyone loves a thrill. We watch movies that make us rethink what is in the dark with us, jump off of bridges and cliffs with our only savior being a bungee cord that may or may not be 10 years old, and we create gravity defying, speeding cars without motors and brakes. The crazy thing is, we do it all for fun. I, however, didn’t have a fun time when I went on a roller coaster that went upside down for the first time.
...ming with life. The smell of the flowers was intense and enlivening. The breeze that was not restricted by car windows, the heat that was not reflected by a rooftop or eradicated by air conditioning, the rain that was not repelled by anything more than my poncho, I was one with all of it. As I biked past, I moo'd as loud as I could at the cows in the fields and felt happy doing it. I even occasionally rode in the van when I was tired.
Walking, there is no end in sight: stranded on a narrow country road for all eternity. It is almost dark now. The clouds having moved in secretively. When did that happen? I am so far away from all that is familiar. The trees are groaning against the wind’s fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling through the air like discarded post-it notes smashing, slapping against the trees and blacktop, “splat-snap”. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago, or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful sunny day; has panic from hunger and walking so long finally crept in? Waking up this morning, had I been warned of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the unexpected twist of fate that awaited me, I would have stayed in bed.
I only knew him for a couple of minutes yet he was the most incredible man I have ever met in my entire life, she ended. As she tucked her children in they said goodnight to her, she switched off their light and everything went pitch black. She stood outside her children’s door and in line with her vision hung a battered, old guitar. Throughout all these years she had kept it with her, because she knew that never letting go of that guitar meant never letting go of that amazing memory. She just stood there gazing at it, virtually paralyzed, while a single drop of tear, from her brown-chestnut eyes, slowly made its way down her cheek then fell silently on the floor.