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HikaruNyu
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Name: Rachel
Country: United States
State: Tennessee
Birthday: 10/28/1988
Gender: Female
Interests: Drawing, swimming, writing, talking to friends, RPing/RPGs
Expertise: I don't know if you'd call me an expert, but I have a lot of practice in drawing comics and I can write some pretty good poetry when I want.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Art
Message: message me
AIM:  Cheeriko
Member Since:
9/8/2004
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| Thanks for the comments on my last post, you guys. That made me feel better reading it... ^^
Today I'm posting to tell you that my granny died today sometime between 7:30 and 8 a.m.
It still seems unreal because she was breathing when I came out of the bedroom. Then I sat down, had some breakfast, then went off to use the bathroom. I was telling myself that this isn't so bad, and I can make it until Wed. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but then I heard Aunt Ann screaming for Brent. When I got out I looked over and mom was sitting on the side of the hospital bed in the living room, trying to wake granny up.
I moved over and I could see that granny's fingers were a gray color and felt my stomach lurch.
"Her lips are turning blue!" I remember Aunt Ann crying as Brent ran over to check granny's pulse. All he did was shake his head and I had to look away. It wasn't long before some horrible odor filled the room. At first it smelled like some sort of nasty medicine for cleaning wounds, but then it reminded me of sour milk. It was so strong I had to leave the room for a few moments. Everything was a bit of a blur as I numbly waddled back to my bedroom. I don't know why, but I felt like I had to get dressed, and I did. When I left the room mama and Aunt Ann were sobbing and wailing. Mama stayed near granny's side, holding her hands, which were now almost stark white.
Soon I could hear an ambulance coming and medics entered the room to check her. That's when mama finally had to move away from granny so they could look over granny's body. Mama never looked so helpless and miserable before. She seemed so small as she came over to me and rested her head on my chest, crying for her mama. That's when I started to cry. It hurt me deeply to hear her softly sobbing "Mama... mama...!" over and over.
The medics were very nice and they allowed us to have some time "with granny". I remember getting really upset and almost angry while I watched Aunt Ann and mama talk to her body. I wanted to yell at them they were stupid, that it was just a body, and granny wasn't there anymore. Instead I went back to the kitchen and started to wash dishes.
Doesn't that sound stupid? My granny just died, nearby neighbors and family that was just passing through were coming in to see what was going on and offering support, my mother and aunt were grieving in pain, and I was in the kitchen washing dishes.
Once I was done I noticed Margret, one of mama's cousins, was there and was trying to be of some support. For whatever reason I felt like I needed to find my hat. So I spent a few minutes roaming around the house, avoiding granny's body and the medics, just looking for my hat.
My search took me out onto the porch. Why I thought it might be out there, I'll never know, but I wasn't in a good state of mind. That's when I saw the gurney, or whatever it's called, that they would use to get granny's body in the ambulance. I got upset again when I saw it, thinking that she wouldn't be able to fit. That thing was so skinny and granny wasn't. I even thought "She'll be so uncomfortable."
I went back inside and the smell was even stronger. Part of me wondered if that was the smell of someone who just died, but it seemed different from what movies and books had explained it as. I had to leave the room when they moved granny's body onto the stretcher and when I came back they were putting the sheets on her. I almost didn't recognize my voice when I said, "Make sure not to get her wet." It was raining outside, and I know granny didn't like to be wet. The medics just smiled at me and assured me the sheets would keep her nice and dry.
It was about then I noticed a strange, brown looking liquid staining the sheets granny had been laying on. It seemed to be mostly from under her head. The sight of it made me feel sick to my stomach and in a panicked whisper I remember asking Denise, one of our cousins who showed up, what that stuff was. He just told me it was drainage and I remembered Death's Acre. Feeling sick to my stomach at the thought, and not wanting to watch the medics take granny, I left the room to look for my hat again.
After granny was gone I started to look for my hat again. I started packing our bags and running around carrying one of granny's blankets she always kept on her couch for when she got cold. I remembered that blanket from when I was little, and like a sentimental little nut case I started roaming about holding it. I know that other relatives who just happened to be passing by dropped in, offering their support, but I rarely even glanced at them. I only hugged them if they wanted to hug me, but I couldn't sit still for a second.
When mama and Aunt Ann said they were going to the hospital to check on granny I decided to go with them. I couldn't stand the smell of that house and I was worried about mama. She seemed so small and fragile right then I wanted to be there for her.
During the ride mama and Aunt Ann kept talking about the funeral and were trying to reasure eachother that granny wasn't in pain anymore and that she had been suffering so much the night before this was for the best. Now we didn't have to hear her moaning in pain or see her eyes glass over as she stared into space. Now she wasn't making that horrible rattling noise which Aunt Ann had called the "death rattle." It scared me when she first mentioned that rattling noise. She said that she had heard about how people start to make a rattling noise before they die.
When we got there a nurse came over and hugged Aunt Ann. They apparently graduated from school together. That is one nice thing about Onieda. Everyone seems to know eachother and they're all so nice.
The doctor told us granny died from asperation. Apparently she threw up inside her throat, then breathed it back in and died. He said it was a very common death for old people and even if we had been right there by her side we couldn't of saved her. I began to wonder if that strange liquid had been vomit and that must of been what caused the smell. Which didn't make me feel any better at all.
After that I had been sort of in a daze. The preacher showed up and talked with mama and Aunt Ann then they had a prayer which I was only half paying attention to. Right then I felt a little bitter towards God and didn't feel like talking to him, as silly as that sounds. Part of me began to wonder about life and death and what it was like to die. I wondered what granny was going through. If she was going to heaven or if there was some sort of limbo. I even wondered if there was nothing after death and it was simply like she didn't exist anymore. None of those thoughts really stuck with me for long because I had thought all of them before multiple times. I huddled down in one of the chairs with granny's blanket and partially listened to visitors come in and out to offer support and mama and Aunt Ann talk about what happened, saying the same things over and over as they tried to call everyone they could think of. Finally I had to move again and started looking for my hat.
Eventually I found my hat out in our car and I'm wearing it right now. Once I got it I felt a little better and settled down in the chair and blanket. Finally I decided I should put up a message as to what had happened and asked to go to Aunt Ann's house to use her lap top.
On the way over I talked to Brent and we actually had a very nice talk about granny and our favorite memories. He's been her grandchild quite a bit longer than I have so he remembers more. We talked about how strange it's going to be without her and I felt a little more relaxed even if his driving made me cringe and cling to the door handle.
Now here I am at Aunt Ann's house, writing to whoever reads this. I was surprised, happy and a little embarrassed that you guys read it. On the way over to granny's house I started to regret posting it and worried that you guys would be irritated with me for being all sentimental and rambling. ^^; Thanks for your comments.
Oh, and if Logie doesn't get to read this, could someone tell her that I might not be able to do whatever she was planning this spring break after all and not to wait for me? I have a feeling the only time I'll be home this week will be to get some clothes for the funeral and clean up then head off again. Thanks a bunch. | | |
| Heh... Looks like Xanga's changed a bit since I last posted which was
months ago. I bet no one ever checks my site anymore, but that's
probably for the best. At least concidering what I have to say today.
Today is the beginning of spring break... I was going to go on the New
York trip, but we cancelled it. Incase some of you didn't know, my
granny has collon cancer and only has a few months to two years to
live. Concidering her age and what not, she's probably got the short
end of the stick. Since January we've been taking care of her and going
to the hospital after school, but now she's back in Oneida, a small old
town somewhere in the mountains, and she isn't doing very well. She's
probably dying, I guess... So instead of going to New York we're
heading up there to take care of her. I'll be gone for 6 nights.
I know this must sound selfish, but I'm so miserable about going up
there. I hate Oneida more than anything in the world. I can barely
stand it for a weekend. I hate going to see my family. There's always
something wrong. Someone is always in trouble. Brent or Kristen, my
disgusting cousins, are always doing drugs, making people cry and
ruining our lives. They're always so damn selfish and suck the life and
money out of granny and Aunt Ann. We've all lost so much because of
their selfishness and habits. There's never anything happy about going
up there. Something is going to happen. Everyone will be miserable and
depressed. We can never have a family gathering and enjoy eachother's
company. I hate it! I hate it so much, I can't stand it! I'm so
miserable just thinking about being around them... I don't want to go.
I really don't want to go. I'd rather go to my father's house than be
near them... but I haven't heard from him in months. I think he's
forgotten about me... I've called him several times but he never calls
back. He probably doesn't want to have anything to do with me.
You know what? When people say they don't care about having a father or
not, it's a dirty lie. It hurts to think one of their parents doesn't
love them. It hurts to see others argue, fight and joke about their
fathers. They don't know what it's like not to have one there for you.
To know if something happened to you and you were ever seriously
injured they would try to find a way to pay the minimal amount for your
health. That they only pretend to love you... It hurts so much. I'd
rather my father be dead and know he did love me than to have one who
I'm afraid of. I can't talk to him or tell him that I'm hurting. I have
to pretend I love him too because if I don't then he might never want
to see me again , like what happened between him and my brothers. I
don't want that, because the sad thing is I do love him... I love my
daddy despite the neglect and lack of contact or any form of
relationship. That's what hurts the most. I do love him so much... I
just wish he would talk to me or want to be near me rather than just
fulfilling a court order or obligation. I wish he would hug me because
he really does want to show me he cares, not just as a greeting and a
farewell.
But there's still a part of me that doesn't want to be near him,
because he might lie to me. He has lied to me in the past... He cheated
on mama. Everyone knows it in our family, but he still won't admit it
to this day, even after he married the woman he was cheating with. It
makes me sick inside. Mom asked him to stop and waited an entire year
before filing the divorce papers. I didn't understand and asked her why
they were being seperated and she told me to ask my father, wanting him
to tell his little girl what was going on. He told me that they were
getting divorced because mom didn't want to be married anymore. Then I
was mad at my mother... How can I trust someone like him? I've heard
about all the horrible things he's done to his own sister. He's done
such horrible things, chased my brothers away and created a painful gap
in his side of the family... I don't understand why I still love him so
much. I don't want to love him, but I can't help it... I can't help
loving my daddy and wanting him to love me...
Although I guess this is all beside the point... I've gotten really off track...
No matter what I'm going to be up there with those people for 6 days...
I don't want to go. I wish this was all just some horrible dream and I
could wake up. I'm scared to go see my granny dying. I'm scared of
seeing my family sad and depressed. I don't want to see my mother cry
or my aunt crumple in depression. I don't want to see it, but I've got
no choice. They need me up there because Brent, the useless, disgusting
bastard, hurt his back and now he's of no help. It's ironic how he
always finds a way to dissapoint everyone and make things harder on
them. I hate him so much... I don't want to be near him. I feel dirty
when I'm around that drug dependant fraction of a man. I feel dirty
when Kristen is there too. I hate her most of all. Sometimes I wish she
would just over dose and die. It would make life a lot easier on
everyone else. I don't want to be near them... I don't want to be sad,
I'm scared of being sad and seeing anyone I love hurt. I don't want to
see granny either.
I know granny won't die peacefully. She's going to suffer, and fall
into derpression. She's going to cry and whimper in pain and despair. I
don't want to see it! I don't want to see any of it! I don't want to
feel that sort of horrible pain... I'm so scared of what this will do
to our family. Granny is like the thread that holds us all together.
Without her I'm afraid of what will happen to what's left of my Aunt's
soul and our broken family. And mama... Oh, God, I don't want to see my
mother hurting... I don't want to see her cry and suffer. I don't want
any part of that.
Sometimes I wish there was somewhere I could go, or someone I could
turn to where I would be safe and sheltered, but no one's going to
shelter me. No one will help me. Everyone is going to be too busy, too
hurt and too frightened to help. There will be no strength for me to
fall on, not even my mother. I can't let her take my pain, not when
she's already so stressed and tired and depressed.
I wish there was someone who could save me, who would hold me and let
me cry against them. I wish I had someone who would help heal my pain,
who I could feel comfortable and safe enough to talk to. But there's
really no one like that... I know I have my friends, but I don't want
them to see me sad. I don't want to make them sad or feel my pain. I
want them to always see me smiling and laughing and joking. I don't
want them to see me cry... I don't want anyone to see me cry.
Everyone has their own pains and problems, right? There are people who
have it a lot worse than I do, so I shouldn't complain... I really
shouldn't. And I shouldn't cry either. If I start to cry and get upset,
then who will be there for Cade and Carson? They need someone to play
with them, make them laugh and shelter them from everyone's sorrow. And
everyone needs me to take care of them... And as for my friends, well,
I know that they are going through hard times as well. Relationships,
parents and probably a lot of things I'm not aware of. Everyone's
suffering in their own way, so I shouldn't complain. If anything I
should try to make others happy. I always want to be able to smile and
laugh even when I'm sad... I don't want to let others see me in pain.
And sometimes I don't think I'm capable of it.
Whenever I start to talk about something that's hurting me, I always
smile as I talk and say it nonchalantly. I always do that whether I
want to or not... It's like I'm not capable of being serious when I
talk about my problems. I just want to laugh and have fun with them.
It's really pathetic... I'll sit down and sometimes I'll think up just
what I want to tell someone. I'll imagine me saying it, expressing
whatever is on my mind then one of my friends helping me or just
listening... Heck, I don't even know what I want from them. I can't
really imagine anyone giving me any real comfort and if they did then
I'd probably shrink away with embarrassment. There have been one or two
times where I let someone see me hurting. I felt a bit proud of myself,
but I still had trouble talking about it. I was so hesitant and afraid
of talking and being serious. Why? I don't know. I'm just always like
that. I confuse myself. I want to tell people I'm in pain, sometimes so
badly that I can't stand it, but when it comes down to it I don't. I
always chicken out and smile. It's a lot easier than you would thank.
You know how some people say that those who are depressed a lot and
talk about it are weak or whiney? Well, I think so too a lot of the
time, but deep down there's a part of me that admires them. To me it
must take a lot more strength to let others see your inner pain and
wounds than to just ignore them and fall back into your own security
blanket of giggles and fun times. It seems like it has to take a lot of
courage to let people get close enough to you that you are willing to
let them know the deepest pains of your heart and share it with them. I
wish I was strong and brave enough to do that. If I actually submit
what I've written, then I'll be very proud of myself because I didn't
chicken out and try to cover up my feelings.
I guess it's hard to tell what true strength is. I wonder if the reason
I'm so quiet about my feelings is because I'm too strong for my own
good or too weak to let go. Maybe I'm just scared of being sad... I
think that's something that's true about me. I don't want to feel sad,
and I don't want to make anyone sad because I've seen too much sadness
already. I want to distance myself as much as possible from it. That's
weak isn't it? Maybe I am a bit strong for keeping things together so
long, but at the same time I'm weak with insecurities that result from
hiding my feelings.
But everyone's like that, right? I'm nothing special because everyone
has pains like that. I shouldn't worry or think I'm less of a person
just because I hide things. Everyone does that. Sometimes I used to
think it was because I was too proud to lower my guard, but the truth
is I'm too scared. I'm scared of seeming weak and I'm scared of what
others might think or do.
I don't honestly think my friends would hurt me, I really don't, but
I'm still scared to leave myself open and vulnerable to them. It's one
reason why I think I'll die a widow... I really want to fall in love,
but I can't bring myself to do it. I see people I like, but usually I
find some reason to distance my feelings and never allow them to
develope. The few people that I've wanted to bridge that gap usually
have some sort of restriction to them as well. They might already be
taken or are some different religion, and I don't want to deal with
that.
You know how people say love conquers all? That's a lie. It doesn't no
matter what they say. That's why I don't want to let my heart rule my
mind. I don't want to become trapped and blinded by love. I've seen it
happen too many times. I don't want to get involved with someone I know
will never love me and I don't want to fall in love with someone of a
different religion. Want to know why the religion thing is such a big
deal? Because it hurts so much, that's why. If you're Christian then
you know that if they don't believe Christ is their savior then they,
basically, go to Hell. Some denominations might believe in purgatory or
that there are other ways they can avoid going to Hell, but I don't
really care. If I ever attempt to convert someone, then it won't be out
of 'you need to be like me because I'm so awesome' but because I care
about them and I don't want them to suffer. And that's the main reason
why I won't get involved in different religion relationships. I know
that unless they convert then there will always be a rift between us. I
know they probably wouldn't want to talk about it and I wouldn't either
because it's such a painful topic sometimes. There's only so much you
can do or say to them and often times they don't want to hear it. I
would never be able to get closer to them and if I did fall in love
then I might be blinded by that. I don't want to be trapped by love...
I don't want to waste what precious time I have on a relationship that
won't progress just because I'm so attatched to them and afraid of
moving on. It's hard to let go of a lover and it's even harder to
establish a new relationship with someone else. I don't want to feel
that temptation if I can avoid it.
Right now, though, I really wish I was in love with someone... I wish
that I had a boyfriend who I could go to when I was sad. Someone I
could talk to and laugh with but still feel secure enough with them to
talk to. Even if we didn't talk, just to hold eachother and know that
someone really does love me enough to stay with me when I'm sad or
afraid. When it comes down to it, I'm not that good with words. I
suppose I'm more physical than anything.
Wouldn't it be nice? As lonely and depressed as I feel right now, I can
almost imagine someone coming and hugging me, not quite saying
anything, but allowing me to feel safe with them and let out my pain.
Then once I calmed down a bit I would talk to them and hold them close,
allowing the love I felt for that individual to soothe my pain. And
whenever they were sad, I'd love to return the favor. Wouldn't it be
really nice? To have someone who loved you enough to just hold you when
you were sad? Someone that would be there for the good times and the
bad... That's what I wish I had right now. Someone who would just hold
me and let me feel loved and love them.
Want to know a secret? I think I might be developing a crush on
someone, but my head tells me I shouldn't. There are many reasons why
and I won't tell anyone who. I'll keep it to myself and wait for the
feelings to die. That's the best thing to do. It's nothing like love,
but I wish it was. Sometimes I wonder if I have a crush on them, or
just a crush on the idea of loving them. Isn't that strange? I think it
is. Maybe I've just reached a point in my life where I simply want to
fall in love and I'm mistaking my feelings. Sometimes I feel jealous of
Sibley and Sarah, Laura and Kevin, Cat and Kev-kun because they have
boyfriends and girlfriends. I even feel jealous of people who secretly
love others, but they won't tell the individual they care for and have
submitted to the fact that person will never love them. Even though I
know they must be in pain, I wish I could feel that sort of pain too,
but my head won't let me, and I'm both sad and greatful for that. I
have a head that won't let me take a risk on falling in love.
... Mama is getting onto me now. I have to go to Onieda... I think I'm
going to start crying again, but I don't want her to see how much I
don't want to go there. I don't want to go... Oh, God, I don't want to
go... I'm so scared of going, but I know I have to. They need me and I
just have to be 'strong' and hold it together, because I know no one
else will but mom, and even she will be a wreck. I have to go pack my
bags now... I don't have any clean clothes left. Mama and I have been
too tired to clean anything, so I'll have to wash clothes there... I
hope granny doesn't mind me using up her soap. Up there they don't have
much money after all the rehab centers Brent and Kristen have been to,
and now with granny's medical bills. Maybe I should pack the Tide we
have here?
Bah, that was a stupid thing to write about. Who writes about whether
they should pack Tide or not in their journal/Xanga/whatever? ^^; I'd
better go now before I ramble out any other stupid thoughts...
... But I do feel a little better now that I've gotten some of that off my chest even if no one ever reads this. ^_^
| | |
| I had a strange dream... At the moment I feel horribly sick, but I feel
like I need to write the dream down or I won’t remember, and I think I
really want to remember this.
After school I decided to go over to Logie’s house with Sami. The house
was small and probably had four to five rooms at the most. We didn’t
seem to mind. I believe we were just there to have some fun. However,
Logie’s family (which was actually the Sapps. Erin’s family had become
Logie’s.) seemed to be very busy. After a while we realized someone was
going to come over to talk to the family about their money and a loan.
Naturally I took this as a cue me and Sami should leave soon.
Jared was acting very cold to me and kept giving me strange side glances. I asked Logie what his problem was.
“He hates you for some reason,” Logie said.
This came as a total shock to me. I knew that sometimes I teased him
last year (and perhaps the year before that) by running up and tackle
hugging him, but he almost seemed to enjoy the ‘game’. Of course now we
were both too old for that. “Why?” I asked, not understanding the
change of heart.
“I don’t know,” Logie said with a shrug, “He even has some sort of name he calls you.”
“What is it?” I asked.
Mrs. Sapp suddenly cut in asking her ‘daughter’ to help them get the
house ready. Logie agreed to and off handedly answered my question but
I couldn’t understand her. I asked her what she said, but she mostly
ignored me so I insisted she answer again. For some reason this meant a
lot to me and I wanted to know what he had said about me.
“I don’t remember,” Logie finally said, obviously frustrated with my impertinence so I dropped it.
“He’s here!” Mrs. Sapp said.
I was a bit upset because I had planned to get out of there before any
company showed up and felt embarrassed. I turned around to see the man
and was taken a back by who I saw. “Dad?” I gasped.
There was the chubby man with short, thinning grey hair. His eyes
matched my own perfectly and held a gentle sweetness about them that I
didn’t think suited him after he had that affair and broke up our
family. He wasn’t as innocent as he appeared, but I couldn’t be mad at
him. Instead I felt a bit frightened, anxious and even happy to see
him. The last time I even spoke to him was sometime in mid-June.
Naturally I wanted to get close to him but I was a bit shy and he
seemed busy.
At first dad didn’t even notice me. He shook hands with the Sapp’s and
they started to set up the meeting. While Mr. Sapp was herding his
family the way he wanted them to go my dad walked over and put an arm
around my waist then started to lead me outside. I followed, but was a
bit scared and I looked back at Logie for comfort reasons I suppose.
What exactly I expected from her was unclear to me. Perhaps reassurance
that things would be ok. Logie simply stared after us, surprised and a
bit curious because she’d never seen my father before.
Outside my dad lead me to a goal post. It was short and there was a
deflated basket ball. The outside of the house had dried grass and
reminded me a bit of a portable home with old if not dirty toys laying
around. There was a rickety old swing set and a large multitude of
dirty orphans the Sapp family let play on their swing set. Where the
orphans actually lived was anyone’s guess, but it wasn’t under
government care.
“Here,” my father said as he picked up the basketball and handed it to me, “Use this and shoot into the hoop.”
“I... I haven’t played basketball in years...” I said, knowing my
skills had diminished more than a little bit. I wasn’t sure if I could
even shoot straight anymore. At one time I had been pretty good at the
sport. Coach even considered me one of his strongest players, but that
was a long, long time ago.
“That’s ok,” my dad said with a nod.
I was instantly reminded of one of the few times my dad had taken
interest in my basket ball games. We, me, my father and step sister,
all went outside into the drive way where Ryan, my step brother, had a
goal set up. For many hours we shot hoops into the goal post. My father
was proud and smiled at me, taking interest in something I enjoyed. It
was one of the happiest and most exciting times of my life.
Naturally I couldn’t refuse his attention. I was confident he was only
trying to strike up common ground with me so I started to shoot the
basketball into the hoop. At first I did really bad, but then I started
to get the hang of it again and my athletic instincts came back. I had
to get a different ball from the orphans since the one I was using was
flat, but after that I shot and scored a bunch of hoops. Dad seemed
proud of me and I was happy.
After a while Mr. Sapp announced he was ready to start the meeting. My
dad and I walked back inside, but Mr. Sapp said he’d appreciate it if I
went home now. I could understand that money matters were private so I
agreed without a fuss even though I would of much rather spent time
with my dad. In a surprise move dad leaned down and hugged me. With an
embarrassed if not shy grin I hugged him back and waved to Logie and
her family before walking out the door, a cold stare from Jared
following me as I want.
Jared’s stare didn’t phase me one bit. I was walking on clouds and
floating on air as I walked down their dirt driveway to the road. I had
decided not to drive my car over and walked with Sami so I knew I’d
have to follow the mud clay road back to the school to get my car and
drive home.
“Rachel-Rachel!” I heard a familiar young voice call to me.
“Carson?” I asked with a grin when I saw my little cousin climbing onto
the road from a slope. She was dirty and only had on a pair of white
pull ups. “What are you doing here?”
Carson only grinned and giggled as she ran to me and I picked her up.
“You should be at home, not playing on the slope,” I said, “What if you
fell off into the sea?” I heard a shuffling and looked down the slope.
There seemed to be little old huts down closer to the water line and
inside was a young Asian girl. She was perhaps eight or nine at the
most. I placed Carson on the side of the road and told her to go home
and she agreed before scampering off.
Using great caution I climbed down to where the little girl was
playing. “Are you one of the orphans?” I asked, “This place might be
dangerous. We need to get somewhere safer.”
The little girl only smiled at me and for the most part ignored my
existence as she continued to play and climbed up into the rafters of
the tiny broken hut that lacked any walls. It was just a couple of
support beams, a floor and a roof. Everything was lightly covered in
red, clay dirt and I knew it wasn’t safe. I was about to reach for the
girl when I saw an Asian woman in the hut next to us. This hut was
different. It had most of its walls and resembled a boat house.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, thinking I was trespassing on her property, “I
didn’t see you there. I just noticed my cousin and this little girl.” I
saw a patch of black hair out the corner of my eye and motioned to it.
“I was worried they might be in danger so I...”
“That was a nice thing to do,” the patch of black hair I noticed before
said. Internally I was surprised and did a double take. A young black
boy perhaps a year or two my senior was knelt down on the ground fixing
some sort of bench that had been hooked up to a rope and pulley system
in the rafters. It was a strange bench not only because of the rope
system, but because of its shape. It was a banana yellow and in ways
resembled the fruit’s shape, but it was wider and more round. It looked
like at one time in its life the bench had been a type of canoe or boat.
“Er, sorry I called you a girl,” I said to the boy, feeling thoroughly
embarrassed and tried to laugh it off, “I just saw your hair and it was
black so I thought... I mean, not like it’s bad to have black hair, but
it looked like hers and I got confused...” The embarrassment only got
worse as I hoped it didn’t sound like I was making a racist comment
about him being black. The boy only seemed to think I was funny and
waved it off.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, “I’m just glad to see you again... Do you remember me?”
I was a bit surprised by that. “Have we met?” I asked.
“When we were young you came down here to play with me all the time,”
the black boy said, “You were just a little girl so I guess it’s ok if
you don’t remember.” He smiled at me and had a very gentle, kind smile.
His grin was so comforting and familiar I instantly liked the boy and
felt nostalgic. Slowly a different memory came to me.
“No, I do remember you,” I said, “I once asked another boy if he was
you. You’re that boy I played with... The boy that lived on the edge of
a mountain...”
The reason for the nick name was that we were on the edge of a
mountain. His little shack was sitting on a steep slope at the bottom
of a mountain. We were almost right on top of the sea that bordered the
mountain’s edge where he lived. That might of explained the odd bench.
More than likely it was a boat he’d turned into furniture, but why he
lived in a little hut away from civilization was a mystery to me.
“I’m glad you remember,” the boy said with a soft, relieved smile. I
really liked his smile. “You once made this picture for me.” He pulled
out a rather large poster sized work of art only a preschooler could
accomplish. It was mostly construction paper covered with lots of
different grooves and marks I’d probably made with a hole puncher,
which was strange. Normally I draw things with a pencil. Even while I
was young I rarely deviated from a simple pencil or crayon on paper.
“Why did I make it like this?” I asked as I felt the paper, “Did I think you were blind or something?”
The boy’s expression saddened a bit at that. “It’s because you couldn’t touch me.”
All I could do was stare at him, befuddled by his words.
“Well, why don’t you have a seat?” the boy asked.
“Alright,” I said, carefully sitting on the banana bench, as I decided
to call it. The bench reminded me more of a hammock now from the way it
was set up. I had to say it was surprisingly comfortable. It was as if
sitting on soft, warm plastic and reminded me of the tiny one person
canoe’s I used to love paddling in at the Tate’s Summer Day Camp my mom
used to take me to. Danna was going to become a counselor there and
lead a troop last summer, but went to Gov School instead. I really
loved that camp and had many experiences there.
All of a sudden I felt very tired, which is strange for a dream. I’d
never become tired in a dream, but there I was dozing off on the banana
bench even though I was already asleep. When I woke up it was late and
a fog had rolled in over the sea and seemed to have placed a barrier in
front of the shack so we couldn’t see outside. In many ways it reminded
me of a protective wall, but I knew if I tried to lean against it I’d
fall right through into the dark waters.
“What time is it?” I asked, alarmed that I was late getting home. Mom would not be happy.
“Night time,” the boy said as he pulled out a blanket and pillow. I
looked over and noticed the Asian woman and her daughter were also in a
banana bench, but they had flipped it over on the bottom so it was like
a hammock and were getting into bed for the night. I assumed the pillow
the boy was getting out was for me and I was to follow the Asian mother
and daughter’s example.
“I can’t stay,” I said, “My mom will have a cow.”
“It’s not safe for you to try climbing up the slope,” the boy pointed
out, “It’s too dark.” I couldn’t argue with him there. It wasn’t safe
at all to climb the steep slope at night.
“Alright,” I finally relented with a sigh, worried about what sort of hysterics I’d be met with when I got home the next day.
The boy smiled and handed me the pillow and blanket. He adjusted the
pulley ropes attached to my banana bench and hoisted it so the bench
became a bed. At first I was a bit startled by the boy’s strength and I
was flopped onto my back by the momentum of the bench‘s shift.
“Where will you sleep? Am I taking your bed?” I asked, not wanting to rob him of his sleeping place.
“No, don’t worry,” the black boy said, “I have another bed. I’ll be
right over you.” He hoisted me up higher in the air and using the ropes
moved me and my bed over so I was dangling above a slope that lead into
the water.
“W-What if the rope breaks?” I asked, instantly feeling paranoid, “I
don’t know if I could get back to shore. I’d be stranded in the boat...”
“The ropes are strong and I just checked the knots this afternoon,” the
boy said with a chuckle, seeming to find my fear amusing, “You have
nothing to worry about.”
“If you say so...” I muttered, feeling safe just because he said so.
For whatever reason I felt I could trust this person. I adjusted the
pillow and snuggled under the blanket. Only then did I notice another
banana bench hanging higher than mine but it was a bit to the
left so if it did fall it wouldn’t fall on me. The boy had just climbed
into his hammock and was settling down as well.
“Hey, how come you live out here by yourself?” I asked, “It seems dangerous to live on the mountain edge.”
“You really think we’re living on the edge?” the boy mused, seeming to
enjoy the idea, “Well, I guess it is true. I just don’t do well with
cities.”
“That’s too bad,” I said with a tiny smile, glad the boy seemed to be
enjoying my company. For some reason that made me feel good. “Sanddai
is a wonderful place to live.”
That was where I woke up. The dream had been so vivid it was scary. I
could even still feel the mist from the fog over the sea when I first
came back to reality, but it quickly went away. I didn’t pay much
attention to it then though. My body felt horrible. My arms and legs
were like lead and they ached as though I’d been running or working out
very hard. There was a strange, heavy but subtle pounding in my head
and I could only lay there dully on my bed for a long time. Eventually
I turned my head to the side and looked at the clock because I have an
obsession with knowing what time I go to sleep and what time I get up.
It said 6:29 which struck me as odd. I’d woken up around 2 that morning
and felt perfectly fine, but decided to rest a bit before I really did
have to get up. I dozed off again around 5:50 so I hadn’t been asleep
very long but it felt like I’d been comatose for days. I eventually
tried to sit up, but it was like my body was completely out of juice.
Even now I’m having trouble getting my fingers to type on the keyboard.
According to my computer’s clock it’s now 8:06, so the feeling should
of worn off. I know I’m not on some sort of sleep deprived spree
because we just got off of Fall break and I got caught up on all the
rest I needed.
My mom was worried about me because I looked pale and weak so she stuck
a thermometer in my mouth. It was one of those new things that are
supposed to beep when they’re done taking your temp. I think ours might
be defective because it never beeped. Infact, it just shut off when it
was done. Mom thought that was strange and I was too tired to care. Mom
told me to stay home today, but I might try to get back to school by
third period if I can. I really should be resting now to get my
strength back, but I just thought that dream was so weird and what it
did to my body was strange too.
The strangest thing of all is the memories I had in the dream were all
real memories. The time my dad took me and my step sister out to play
basket ball really did happen. Then there was the thing about the black
boy I once asked if he lived on the side of the mountain. I don’t
really remember what memory prompted me to ask that kid that. He went
to Tate’s Summer Day Camp with me a long time ago. I really wish I
could remember that kid’s name... I think it started with a J. The
memory about how Danna was going to work at Tate’s was also in the
dream too, and you can just ask her if she really was going to work
there. I know she told me or her mother told my mom. Something like
that... Anyway, it was really, really weird.
Oh, I might of gotten the dialogue a bit off since I was already
starting to forget the dream by the time I was writing, but I know what
everyone was basically saying. I remember the discussion between me and
the black boy the clearest. I might of worded it a bit differently, but
that’s what we were saying to each other. I know it was. Of course out
of everything that was said in the dream the word Sanddai (pronounced
like “Sand-Dai” [dai like in Daisuke.]). Does anyone know what that
word means or if it really is a word/place? If I made it up that would
be an awesome name to call a place in a comic, but since there were so
many old memories thrown in my dream it might actually be a word I’ve
read in a manga or something. *shrugs*
Well, I’m starting to feel dizzy and sick to my stomach so I’m going to
lay down again now that I’ve finally gotten this written. I know this
all sounds like I made it up, but I swear I didn’t. That’s why I may
not be at school today unless I can get to feeling better. Perhaps I
really am sick, but the thermometer (mom just had to turn it back on to
see the last recorded temperature) said I had no fever. *shrugs* Well,
whatever’s going on I hope it’s over soon. (Then again, that was a
really fun dream. If I dream more about it I’ll add to this post.) | | |
| (Wow, I haven't posted in a long time... Oh, well...)
Today was a great day. :3
My mom and I worked really hard on my costume, and I was very proud of
it. I think I might wear it to church tomorrow... Wouldn't that be
exciting? XP Anyway, I loved everyone's costumes accept for Kevin
(-kun). He failed the requirement for dressing up then stole my sword!
The dirty bastard... I'll get him for that one.
I was really happy that people liked my mom's cake. I know she was
proud that her food got praised. It doesn't really happen a lot, but
she's a good chef when she puts her mind to it. Either way we were both
happy about that one.
Everyone that did dress up looked great in their costumes. I really
liked Danna's. The kitty thing was so cute. X3 And even though I teased
Sami a bit, her's was great too. She really looked like a soldier.
Maybe not exactly like Sosuke, but very close. I was surprised she
pulled it off so well. However, the best costume was Courtney's. That
was brilliant. I loved her outfit so much.
The gifts were also amazing. Thanks to everyone for the presents. I
love them all. (Heehee. I'm still wearing my little
Chinese-person-hat-thingy.)
There was one small problem I had, but it wasn't that big of a deal.
I'm not going to mention names or anything (Not that it really matters
since they don't use their Xanga/Never would even look at mine) but I
was so releaved one person didn't come to the party. I guess Logie
didn't think to check with me about the invitations, however if that
person showed up that would of ruined the whole party for me. I would
of been all quiet and hidden in a corner somewhere the entire time. I
even told my mom before coming "I really hope ___ wasn't invited. I
didn't check with Logie about the final guest list... Surely ___
wouldn't be invited. Everyone knows how awkward I act when they're
there."
Either way, all's well that ends well, I guess. I was so happy about
the party I almost cried. It was one of the best days of my life. I
hope that my memories of this night never fade even as I grow old.
Lately I've been worried about forgetting precious times I spend with
people or even going so far as to forget my friends' names. That scares
me more than anything about graduating/getting older. I don't want to
forget or drift away from any of my friends, but I have a feeling it'll
happen which makes me sad.
Bwah. I guess this isn't the time to worry about that. ^_^ Tonight's a
happy night! I'm in such a good mood I could die from joy. I don't
think I'll be going to sleep anytime soon even though I'm tired. I'm
completely wired on sugar and excitement.
(Oh, and I'm listening to the Ayumi Hamasaki CD Logie let me borrow.
*dances* Oh, my gosh, I love her songs! I didn't realize her true
greatness until now. *tears of joy*)
| | |
| Oh, my gosh, so much has happened this weekend!
On Friday I was sitting in Spanish talking to Kevin when I noticed the
teacher scamper past us with a stapler. I was being silly by saying
something like, "He's got a stapler... Be afraid! o_O" Then I turned at
the most inopportune moment to see what was going on and something
black hit me in the face. I yelped and turned my head around, nursing
my poor eye. It scared me more than it hurt and I just stared for a
moment and the class paused a moment before they all started talking.
Later I found out the teacher had been stapling some guy's paper a bit
too hard and it broke the top half off. (He was stapling by opening the
thing up. I can't really explain it any better than that...) Said top
half went flying directly into my head. For a few moments my vision in
that eye was clouded with what looked like static, but that eventually
went away. The teacher was very sorry for what happened and I didn't
have the heart to tell on him or anything. He's just too nice of a
teacher.
A good thing came out of the experience. Now I'm allowed to read books
in class whenever I want for three weeks as an appology from the
teacher. (It's kind of on the border line of bribery to keep me from
being too upset at him and telling my mom so she'll tell his boss and
probably get him in a hell load of trouble, but that's ok with me.)
That and I suddenly became very popular in the class. However, I'm not
really sure if I want to be known as the girl who got smacked in the
eye with a stapler.
After class I stopped by the clinic because my eye was itchy. I wanted
to make sure everything was ok. The lady there called in both of the
nurses and when they looked at me their eyes went wide. It turned out
the 'red spot' people had mentioned in class was a puncture wound from
one of the staples inside the stapler. The wound was less than a
centimeter from my actual eye. The nurses said I was VERY, VERY lucky
it hadn't put my eye out. I could of been blinded. (Oh, I still managed
to omit the fact it was my teacher who did it to me. I just said some
idiots were playing with a stapler and it broke. It's not really lying,
just not telling the complete truth.)
But today was awesome! I'll just copy post most of what I told Erin...
Today I got up and drove to Onieda with my mom to borrow granny's car.
I didn't know it at the time, but they were having a birthday party for
Cade, my now 2 year old cousin. Carson, the five year old, was there
too. They were SO unbelievably cute today. When I got there Carson came
running as fast as she could towards me yelling my name over and over
then latched to my waist. She kept saying my name for a long time and
hopping around. Then Cade came running soon after and muckled onto my
leg and just grinned up at me. I almost died from how adorable they
were.
We went to the park to have Cade's party and his little friend who's a
year older than him was there. She was really cute too. Her name was
Carly, and she had blonde hair in two braided pig tails. At the bottom
of each pig tail her hair curled like a spring. It kind of reminded me
of Sami's hair, but it was a light blonde and had a softer, finer
appearance. It was really pretty.
Anyway, I and the little ones spent most of the day chasing eachother
around and playing on the slides. When I caught one of them I'd pick
them up and swing them around a few times before putting them down
again so they could run and I'd try and catch them again. It really
wasn't very hard, but after a while it gets tiring, so I took a break
and talked with the adults. However, Carson wasn't going to let me have
a moment of peace. (She never does, so I'm kind of used to it) Thus
began a mighty battle in which she and the micro minions of evil would
try to slide a piece of ice down my back, succeeding more than a few
times, then I'd chase them down and return the favor.
Needless to say after the party I was exhausted so I took a nap. I soon
learned that lowering my guard was a foolish mistake. When I woke up I
found Carson with fingernail polish in her hand and my toes had gone
from their usual peachy color to bright red. Flinging myself from the
bed and into the bathroom, I quickly tried to remove it, but discovered
Carson had already put on a special coat that makes the polish dry
faster. To add to my horror, I discovered granny had no remover so I
had to bare with the humiliation. Of course I couldn't be mad at Carson
because she was just too cute, and I had to admit it was kind of funny.
The greatest part of my day was driving home in my granny's car while I
followed my mom who was in the van. I'll be driving it to school and
back for a while and eventually it'll belong to me. It's not a crappy
car either! I found out the car I have is a light blue 95 buick
riviera, or something like that. It's a pretty nice car but it's old
and has seen a lot of abuse. We stopped by a car wash and cleaned it
but tomorrow I'll have to attack the inside with windex, some rags and
a vaccume. As if to make it even better, my mom pulled out this fancy
box when we got home and told me she'd gotten this for me when I was
still a baby and has been waiting until I started driving my own car to
give it to me. (It's not really mine, but close enough) Inside was a
silver key chain in the shape of a guardian angel with Psalms-something
on the back. I forget exactly what it says and I'm too lazy to get it
and the keys out of the purse.
Thus goes my weekend so far. Tomorrow will probably be a normal Sunday aside from my futile attempts to clean granny's car out.
| | |
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