Pitchers of iced tea, lemonade, and coolers filled with drinks lay underneath the oak tree in her backyard, embraced by its shade. I began to fill my cup with half lemonade, half iced tea to complete my favorite drink of the summer. Taking a small gulp at first to see if it tasted right and then a big gulp satisfying myself with my acquired skill of making Arnold Palmers like Macey had shown me how to do. Where was she? I continued to stand under the oak tree and scan the backyard where joyous smiles, support, and a sense of accomplishment filled it. Small clusters of families who wore Grand Valley State shirts scattered the lawn and a Grand Valley themed cake was the centerpiece to the party. Macey better hurry before all the cake is gone. All of a sudden, Celeste came from around the tree, engulfing me in one of her famous bear hugs, almost causing me to spill my drink—even after thirteen years, she was still happy to see me. She was glowing, wearing a grin and her beautiful, white graduation dress which brought out her dark features. This was her special day and I was so happy to be there for her, however, we were missing the puzzle piece to our friendship: Macey.
“Have you talked to Macey today? She’s coming right?” Celeste asked.
“No, I haven’t heard from her all day,” I replied. There was a long pause because we knew what each other was wondering: had Macey forgotten about today?
I should have known that Macey wasn’t going to show up and I wish I would have prepared both Celeste and I for the heartbreak and repeated neglect inflicted on us—we were left alone again. If I had listened to the uneasy feeling in my gut, we’d be saved from this pain. At this point, reality hit: we had lost the one person whom we shared laughter, m...
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...k when Macey was still an important part of our lives, although we had to accept the reality of our situation the hard way and move on.
We both came to the realization that we were never missing anything drastic when Macey left us: Celeste had my shoulder to cry on, me to vent to and my ears for listening while I had her to rely on if I needed her for an emergency or just to gossip to. Instead of us running to Macey for help, we eventually landed in each other’s lap, dropping whatever it was we were doing and helping the other person because we knew what it was like to be a good friend. I now value the most out of a friendship and ignore those who contribute negatively to my life, solely focusing on myself and how the friendship will benefit me. Celeste and I became stronger in a sense that we were free from neglect and had each other, ever since the very beginning.
The setting takes place in April at a funeral. There was a “gardenia on the smooth brown wood” (Holczer 1). They have been “wandering across the great state of California” (2). The setting moves to Grace's grandma’s house. It was “two stories with attic windows”, “sky-blue paint with white trim”, “ and a wood porch” (19). There were “two chairs covered in yellowed plastic and pine needles” (19). There was a gently sloped driveway. Inside the house there were “piles of Tupperware and glass dishes” (19). Outside there was a shed, garden, trees, and
The return to reality was as painful as the return to consciousness after taking and anaesthetic. His body and brain ached with indescribable weariness, and he could not think of nothing to say or do that would arrest the mad flight of the moments He desperately wanted to run away with Mattie, but he could not leave because his practical sense told him it was not suitable to do so partly because of his responsibility to take care of Zeena.
Now I wished that I could pen a letter to my school to be read at the opening assembly that would tell them how wrong we had all been. You should see Zachary Taylor, I’d say.” Lily is realizing now that beauty comes in all colors. She is also again being exposed to the fact that her way of being raised was wrong, that years and years of history was false. “The whole time we worked, I marveled at how mixed up people got when it came to love.
“I still recall… going into the large, darkened parlor to see my brother and finding the casket, mirrors and pictures all draped in white, and my father seated by his side, pale and immovable. As he took no notice of me, after standing a long while, I climbed upon his knee, when he mechanically put his arm about me and with my head resting against his beating heart we both sat in silence, he thinking of the wreck of all his hopes in the loss of a dear son, and I wondered what could be said or done to fill the void in his breast. At length, he heaved a deep sign and said: “Oh, my daughter, I wish you were a
“Wilson,” I called out, receiving no response. “Wilson?” He stayed slumped in the chair, eyes casted on the ground, refusing to make eye contact or any other sign of acknowledgement. “Wilson!” I yelled, causing him to flinch, his eyes finally meeting mine. There was sadness clear as day in his eyes, but no, he did not deserve to be sad. He did not have any reason. He didn’t love her. He couldn’t provide for her. Not like I could- or would.
Suddenly her bed was empty. Her room was empty. The nametag on her door was gone. Annie slept most of the weekend and, one day, just didn’t wake up. She was gone. I was shattered. ================
I shook my head, ashamed for invading my friends’ tragedies with memories I conjured up by their descriptions of them. I was still staring at Alice’s relaxed posture. The frown on her face was evident even while she rested unconscious with wrinkles near her seventeen year old eyes. I could still see the scar from stitches. Vesper shifted under the blankets on Alice’s couch. He was missing a father while Sebastian and I were missing a mother. But Alice was missing the two people that had given her life and left while she was living it. A trust fund was left in their
His words always contradicted what was really happening. The sadness he felt always seemed to come from nowhere. He wasn’t alone. I was right there beside him, and as far as I could remember, I had always been. Still, even if I felt like we were miles apart as I sat right next to him, I decided that I would accept that. There was always time to find the truth. There was always time to one day understand, but at that moment, he was happy with
“No, my mother never mentioned you before. Why should she have? Are you someone important? Also I believe that you were not entirely telling the truth earlier, now were you?” said Rosey in response.
After, she passed, life seemed darker for awhile. Perhaps, losing loved ones, are physical and mental blows, that I can’t seem to get away from. I would cry for days with wondering thoughts on how I could have saved them. As family and friends disappeared whether by death or just lack of communications in friendships, it had negatively affected me, wondering when will the last day be. However, as I begun to face the realities of life, I am learning that you enjoy life today and focus on whatever comes when it comes.
It felt so dragged out because all I wanted was to see him and tell him the news. Our connection felt different, phone calls were made shorter and they weren’t as frequent. I missed him. Two nights had gone by without a phone call or even a message. This wasn’t typical of Luke. I was becoming increasingly worried. I tried to distract myself from the situation and went to Atlanta to visit my parent’s for the weekend. This provided a distraction from my despair. When I arrived home, the flat fell silent. I sat aimlessly on the sofa, starring at the telephone, hoping that maybe it would ring. I tried turning my television on but I was oblivious to anything around me. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I knew something was wrong. Fifty-five minutes passed, as I stared at the phone. That was when I heard it
“It will be okay,” she had said. My sister never lies, but that day she did, taking a rather large part of me with her, leaving behind an empty shell that searches for a glimpse of her in the busy marketplace. I grasp the shoebox tightly, suddenly coming to a realization. It was never her harbouring hope of a family from the photographs, rather me hoping it would be enough to anchor her to me. I close my tired eyes, vision growing fainter, body becoming paralyzed, and the busy voices of the flea market muting to a dull throb. And slowly I fall, fall into the dark abyss of my mind, memories blurring out the present for the past, until all that remains (of us) is a shoebox filled with photographs.
I awoke to the sun piercing through the screen of my tent while stretching my arms out wide to nudge my friend Alicia to wake up. “Finally!” I said to Alicia, the countdown is over. As I unzip the screen door and we climb out of our tent, I’m embraced with the aroma of campfire burritos that Alicia’s mom Nancy was preparing for us on her humungous skillet. While we wait for our breakfast to be finished, me and Alicia, as we do every morning, head to the front convenient store for our morning french vanilla cappuccino. On our walk back to the campsite we always take a short stroll along the lake shore to admire the incandescent sun as it shines over the gleaming dark blue water. This has become a tradition that we do every
Things started off good, like in the beginning of all relationships. Brandon and I met my senior year in high school. Brandon would ignore me for days. He would get mad at me if I didn’t do what he told me, right then. I never had any time to myself to grow as a person, not a slave. I should have seen the signs in the beginning, but I was young and stupid. After four long years of heartbreaks and fighting, I couldn’t take it any more, so I left him. I couldn’t stand being in a loveless relationship for the rest of my life. At that moment in time, I finally was free, I could breathe. As I was struggling to break free, I landed in Krystal’s arms, Who I found was truly my best friend and the love of my life.
I awoke to the sun piercing through the screen of my tent while stretching my arms out wide to nudge my friend Alicia to wake up. “Finally!” I said to Alicia, the countdown is over. As I unzip the screen door and we climb out of our tent, I’m embraced with the aroma of campfire burritos that Alicia’s mom Nancy was preparing for us on her gargantuan skillet. While we wait for our breakfast to be finished, me and Alicia, as we do every morning, head to the front convenient store for our morning french vanilla cappuccino. On our walk back to the campsite we always take a short stroll along the lake shore to admire the incandescent sun as it shines over the gleaming dark blue water. This has become a tradition that we do every morning together