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Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Letting go


As I reach forward to weld the pieces of metal on the army tank, beads of sweat begin to form on my forehead. Habitually, I take out my yellowed, stiff rag to wipe the droplets away. I wonder if my husband is any better off. Off to the second world war, he is serving his country in one of these very tanks. While I am suffering through my last few minutes of my shift, is he suffering worse? Where is he? What is he seeing? What is he doing at this very moment?
Back at our aparment, I have an overwhelming urge to try on the jewelry my beau gifted to me prior to his deployment. I trail my fingers around the outline of my heart-shaped locket until I reach the golden hinge. Opening the glittering pendant, I gaze into a portrait of him and I. My face relaxes instantly and I feel a breath of blissful memories gently breeze past me. A knock at the door breaks me from my tranquil trance.
Who can that be? I crack the door open and a tall, official man is standing in front of me. The man is so high in stature that I have to peek my head outside to look directly into his face.
"Yes?" I ask. "May I help you?"
The towering man looks down into my eyes with a somber expression. Searching for words, the officer removes hat.
"I regret to inform you that..."
In an instant, I realize what has happened. "Thank you for informing me, sir,"I turn away from him rapidly, slamming the door in his face. Like a disturbed child, I drop to the floor with a thud and wrap my arms around my knee caps. Unclenching my hands, I glance down at my necklace and remember the last words my soldier said to me, "A locket substituting for a ring. The minute I arrive back from Germany, I will buy you the most beautiful diamond ring in all of North America." Clenching my fist again, I realize that I will never have the twinkling band around my finger.

Letter of thanks

Dear Dustin,
Thank you for making my friend a beaming bundle of joy. I approve of your relationship completely, even though you are practically near retirement age. Also, I appreciate your quirky sense of humor. For example, you told our hostess at the pizza place the wrong last name and you told our sales associate at the clothing store that you were my friend's brother. All this for a laugh!

It is sweet how you buy everything. You took us out to eat, took us ice skating, and took us to the mall. In addition, you even bought my girl a complete outfit. I must say, you are the perfect gentleman and you treat her like a royal princess. Frankly though, I just wanted to tell you that I enjoy your presence. Thank you for being alive!


Your friend,
Kayla

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Thanksgiving blues

Usually Thanksgiving is a time for family. But for me, it is a time to remember how broken my family is. I really don't want to go anywhere for the holiday. Why can't we all just act like it is any other day? I want to see my mamaw but my step-grandpa makes me feel extremely uncomfortable. Even though that is the only thing keeping me from going, I am going to have to think of an excuse to get out of it. What's worse, telling her how I feel and leaving her other questions unanswered, or straight up lies? Maybe lying isn't such a bad thing in certain circumstances. Wish me luck.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Meet Willow

Quiet, seventeen-year old Willow is a senior girl in highschool that spends most of her time inside her own mind, accompanied by reflective thoughts. Unexpectedly, Willow's mind is overwhelmed with a certain someone. This certain someone that she becomes enchanted by happens to be another girl. Will Willow pursue her unusual feelings? Will she ever accept who she really is?

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Knocked down


Part I

You can let people knock you down. You can even let them step on you. But never, ever let those people keep you down. This is advice that I think holds true in any situation in which you are not in control of. No matter your age, race, or even sexuality, these simple words apply.

"Willow! Are you with us today?" my teacher snaps at me. My daydreaming trance is shattered instanteously. Don't get me wrong, I try my very hardest to focus in class. When I do pay attention, I prove to be quite bright. However, I tend to be a bit too reflective on life. Analyzing details has to be my favorite extracurricular activity. The bell signaling the end of class rings, saving me from the wrath of my snooty teacher.

I make my way jubilantly to my choral class. Choral has to be the one thing that can cheer me at any moment, on any given day. The world could forget my birthday, but by the end of that hour I would forget about my own birthday. There is just something about that room. Maybe it's the way music fills the room vibrantly, allowing no room for sadness. Maybe it is just the fact that such a diverse group of young people can create something so remarkably beautiful together. All I know is that it makes me happy. We begin practice with a song so sweet, it reminds me of a lullaby. My section, the sopranos, and the altos sing the first several measures of the song. The sound of passionate womanly harmony floating through the air brings sudden comfort to all of us. My voice blends with the girls around me and my arms are aroused with goose bumps. One newbie soprano in particular has a voice so similar to mine, sometimes it sounds as if we are one person. Her name is Mel.

Without warning, the music stops abruptly and my teacher slams his hands on the piano keys, creating a horrendous sound. "Pay attention! I'm not going to tell you again, that note is held out for 5 counts. No more, no less!" Mr. Hendrix informs us in frustration. Mr. Hendrix is one of those people that have utter control over the room. He's the most respected man in our little town of Brentonville. When he speaks, you listen. When he listens, you better be doing the best you can. Mr. Hendrix is a perfectionist with the highest expectations, and that is why I like him. "I'm done with you for today," he ends the lecture in a disappointed tone. I glance beside me at Mel and realize she is cringing.
"Don't take what he says personally. He just wants us to be the best we can be," I whisper to her. Smiling , she whispers, "Thanks." As we make eye contact, I can't help but to get caught up in her stare. Her green eyes sparkle like precious gems. Before she takes notice of my creepiness, I look away.
Part II
It has been only 1 week since my split-second infatuation. Already, that insignificant moment between us has become an overwhelming issue. What is wrong with me? I feel like one of those men that stare at women like pieces of meat. Disgusting. What is it about her that I find so engaging? Now that I am sitting down to ponder this, the answer comes easily. With her quirky charm, her melodic voice, and the way her eyes seem to dance when she's happy, how could anyone not fall for her? I can't feel this way. What would Mel think if she knew? If she knew my true emotions, there would forever be an awkward tension between us. My feelings must remain undetectable. However, I realize that these emotions aren't going away. I continually push them out of my mind only to find that they have multiplied.
Part III
I am nervous. Now that I am here, I nearly regret inviting her. I am hosting a bonfire/camping event at my house and I invited her. She's going to figure it out. Can I make it any more obvious? Come on Willow, why don't you just tell the world! That sounds like a lovely idea; I'm sure it will go smoothly. Not! Suddenly snapping me out of my 'lecture to self', Mel snuggles against me. "Aren't you cold?" she says, teeth chattering. "You're brave by not standing by the fire. I'm about to freeze my butt off. Come on, I'm here to rescue your poor freezing limbs!" Without debate, I begin to follow her back to the fire. "Let's go slowpoke!" Mel squeaks, grabbing my hand to drag me along. The warmth from her frail, tender hands absorbs into my icy, stiff palms and I melt. Our fragile fingers intertwine and she cradles my hands. Appreciating her in the light of the fire, I watch her hand brush her hair out of her face, sending layers of deep brown hair cascading down her shoulders. I attempt to bottle up before she realizes what this means to me. I can't keep going on like this. Why can't I just be regular ole me again? Why can't I be normal?
Part VI
"Anyone who is interested in auditioning for the Christmas play this year, please come pick up an audition sheet, fill it out, and turn it in to me,"Mr. Hendrix calls out. Myself, I'm not much into acting. I once starred in a play as the one and only gingerbread man in first grade and I am scarred for life. Let's just say it didn't work out. I'd rather just stick with the singing. Mel, however, couldn't be more thrilled about the play. Honestly, I could see the girl getting the lead. She's beautiful, talented, and simply has a certain aura about her. I tell her this. I'm not sure why, but I just blurt it out without even thinking.
"Yeah right," she shrugs and giggles. "I have no chance."
"No, really. I'm serious! You may not have the experience that some of the other girls have, but you have that "it" that everyone strives for. That "it" thing that is nearly unnattainable. You either have it or you don't. And you, Mel, you have it."
"Melanie Green! You're next!" Mr. Hendrix shouts out.
"Well, I guess we'll find out!" Mel proclaims, giggling nervously. Just then, I unexpectedly lean in close. Even I don't see it coming. Our lips meet at a rapid speed and I end up giving Mel a peck.
"Wow." I gasp. "I'm so um. Sorry. I don't even know where that came from." Mel just stares at me in wonder. Without hesitation, she begins to lean into me. Before either one of us realize it, we kiss again. Leaning back, Mel whispers to me, "I don't mind. Really, it's ok." The coy tone in her voice makes me beam.
"Good luck!" I call to her just before she enters the audition room.
Part V
The cast list is up! Unfortunately, none of my teachers will let me leave class to see it. Don't they understand? This is important! Finally, the bell sounds for lunch and I scurry to the bulletin board. Scanning the list, I immediately realize that Mel's name is further down. "Girl #1: Melanie Green," I read to myself. Girl #1? This is just not possible. Mel should at least have a supporting role. I mean, she is a SENIOR! This is her last chance and now it is ruined. Somehow it just doesn't make sense.
"Problem?"Mr. Hendrix comes up behind me, making me jump.
"Well, since you asked, yes. Why didn't Mel get a bigger part? She has the talent. Yet, you traded her off for underclassmen that have plenty of chances left."
His bitter, icy stare stings me and sends a chill down my spine.
"You and Miss Green did something against school policy. Do you know what that something is, young lady?" he sneers.
"You have got to be kidding me. Is this about the-"he cuts in.
"Yes Willow, this is about the kiss. Kissing in my classroom is strictly prohibited,"he continues.
"You have got to be kidding me! Have you not seen Annie and Cory all ov-"I'm interrupted once more.
"Look, my mind is made up so you shouldn't bother arguing. And before you even think it for a minute, this has nothing to do with the fact that you are both girls,"he informs me clearly.
"I just simply cannot have people like her ruining our reputation."
Anger starts to spew out of me, sending flames in every direction. I wait for him to leave before I even think about bursting. How could he say that it has nothing to do with us being girls. It has everything to do with it. If he was being fair, Cory wouldn't have the lead. But of course, no one notices boys and girls kissing. No, because that's normal. What hurts the most is that I'm the one to blame. If it wasn't for me, Mel would have the lead role. Occasionally, adults surprise me. Who knew a respected man could be so utterly pathetic.
Part VI
I find her already sobbing. He got to her first. Even under these circumstances, I can't help but to notice how beautiful she looks when she is crying. Before I can say a word, she dries her tears and collects herself. "The thing that gets me the most is that someone I deeply respected has let me down. I mean, yes, I wanted that part, but that is not what matter. It's unfair, it's all so unfair!" she starts up again. The pained look on her face torments me and I find myself holding her, rocking back and forth. "What now?" she asks me.
I ponder for a moment, "Now, you are going to steal the show, Girl #1."
At last, a crinkled smile appears on her face. Giggling, she says, "We'll show them!"
Part VII
The audience lights dim, and the stage becomes alive. Even through a sea of costumes and props, she stands out. It's not just me. I feel the crowd's eyes follow her. Mel's radiance and charm shines through effortlessly and her every emotion is portrayed clearly. The distinct tone of chuckles among the crowd are heard and I know it is the way that she delivers her line. Finally, the curtains close and the performance is given a round of applause.
As soon as I catch a glimpse of her through the mass of proud parents, I run to her. "You did so great!" I compliment.
She blushes, "Thanks!"
"Can I get an autograph?" I tease
Rolling her eyes, she embraces me in mid giggle. "Thank you," she tells me. "For everthing. She leans in and brings her lips to mine and kisses me even though we are in a crowd of people. All I can do is smile.
Part VIII
You can let people knock you down. You can even let them step on your. But never, ever let them keep you down.