OCTOBER
Dear Henry,
Today has been too short. It was Jamie´s birthday and when I got up this morning the first thing I did was start on a cake, because I wanted to make it from scratch. But Red had other things in mind... he jumped onto the counter when my back was turned, and the whole bowl fell to the floor and I just ended up getting Jamie a birthday doughnut, and my Mom made the cake we had at dinner. Jamie loved the Buzz Lightyear toy btw, thanks so much!
We missed you, it would have been nice to have you at the table. Between entertaining Jamie and trying to keep Red off my lap I am exhausted. But Jamie is growing up fast, and I am trying to savor every moment.
Stay safe, where ever you are.
Hugs,
Jess
NOVEMBER
Dear Jess,
I´m glad Jamie liked his gift! It was the least I could do. It´s not everyday you turn three.
Red is so needy, whenever I come over he always trys to absorb me. So easy to imagine him competing with Jamie for your lap... I would just settle for a hug.
Thanks for your gift! We all missed Thanksgiving dinner this year, it was hectic day and we saw some unfriendly fire. The can of pumpkin pie mix was perfect, everyone loved having a little taste of home (yes of course I shared, it was THANKSGIVING!). We figured out a way to cook just about everything, but it was definately not a traditional meal, haha, especially without a turkey.
Please make me a pie when I come home?
-Henry
DECEMBER
Dear Henry,
Your gift came in the mail today! You are so thoughtful, I love love LOVE IT! What girl doesn´t love something sparkly...I have been wearing these earrings nonstop for the last couple days. Did you really order Tiffany´s online? I had no idea you could do that!
It is getting cold here and we had our first real fire in the fireplace. Do you remember last year, when you first came over and we made cookies with Jaime and you started a fire for us then? A year goes by so quickly.
I hope you are safe and warm, and I am sending you extra hugs and all my love to keep you extra toasty. You have told me the desert gets cold at night.
Henry, I am so glad that you are part of my life. These past 12 months have been really blessed ones, and our relationship has filled me with joy and hope for the future. You are a good man, and you have been good to me and my son. I want to be honest and tell you that I think I am falling in love with you. Maybe I am telling you this too soon, but it has been on my mind a lot lately and I felt I should share it with you.
Please do your best to stay safe, and know that we pray for you every day.
Merry Christmas...
Hugs,
Jess
JANUARY
Dear Jess,
I am missing you today.
This morning the sky was overcast, and as we move the gray clouds seem to follow us. This is not the way I thought I would spend New Year´s, I hoped to be home already and be able to spend it with you and Jaime. Now it looks like I won't be back until March at the earliest.
Thanks for your last letter, and the gift. I have been wearing the scarf a lot, especially at night, and now it´s a dark green instead of light.
Being away all this time has really made me think alot about my life at home, who I am, what I want. Jess, I have to tell you, I was not looking for anyone when you came into my life, but you have made such a difference and you have helped me to become a better person. Without you now I feel like something is missing.
Hope to see you soon.
-Henry
FEBRUARY
Dear Henry,
This month I feel like I have been overdosed with chocolates and hearts and right now I am so sick of pink! The only cards I got that I liked on Valentine's Day were from you and Jaime, of course. Jaime's was a blue heart, and when I asked him why blue he said it was because he knew it was my favorite color, haha! He is such a smart little guy. Your card was amazing, thank you, and the lilies at work!!! All the other girls were beside themselves with envy....
The only way things could have been better would be with you there. Maybe next year?
Start thinking about when you come home next month! Once you know your flight details send them along, Jaime and I would be more than happy to pick you up. I will have a pie waiting.
Hugs,
Jess
Dear Jess,
There is something I have to tell you.
I am in love with you. Every word you write feeds me and makes me believe it more.
Cannot wait to see you next month, hold on tight.
Love,
Henry
MARCH
Jess and Jaime stood waiting anxiously by the exit terminal, after scanning the arrival boards and seeing the flight landed on time.
It seemed like years as Jess stood there, Jaime's hand clutched in hers, eyes scanning the crowd for his fatigues. And then she saw him, smiling with his backpack over one shoulder, striding towards them. She thought that she might scream but both her hands flew to her mouth and she felt a flood of relief. Time stopped as Jaime leapt at him, and she heard his easy laugh as he held the three-year-old in his arms and hugged him tight. Then his eyes met hers and he pulled her close under his free arm and they stood like that, close together for a moment savoring the feeling of being toegether. Finally he leaned bcak and put Henry down, turning to face her. She felt tears on her cheek and brushed them away with a sleeve, embarassed.
"Jess," He said, taking her hands in his. "Your prayers and words and your gifts helped me to get through. You helped me stay positive, gave me a piece of home and eased my mind... I am so glad to be home with you, babe."
Jess smiled and saw Jaime clap his hands. She gave Henry's hand a squeeze as he drew a breath and continued.
"There is one gift you can give me, though, that would make me even more happy."
As he said this he sank to one knee, and removed a little blue box from one pocket. Jess felt her eyes growing wide and she started crying more, looking at him in disbelief. She felt Jaime clutching her leg. The diamond inside was small, simple, perfect. The biggest gift from Henry yet.
"Jess," Henry said in a soft voice, "will you be my wife? Will you let me be a permanant part of your life and Jaime's life?"
Jess felt like exploding with happiness, with joy. She became suddenly and accutely aware of the people around them, many of whom had stopped to watch. Jaime's clutch on her leg seemed electric, and when she opened her mouth she was surprised her voice didn't send of sparks or fireworks.
"Yes."
The sounds of people around them cheering and even Jaime's excited burble seemed to fade as he rose up and put the ring on her finger, arms wrapping around her and pulling her close and she kissed him.
"That is the best gift of all, babe. Your love."
He whispered it quietly but she could hear his smile, and she knew exactly how he felt.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
Forward Motion
"So you think it will be tonight?"
"Hey, I never said that...I just think it's coming. It could be anytime."
They were sitting over their cafe sandwiches and sipping lite iced coffees, and discussing the proposal. Because Ellie was sure he would propose any time now, with the upcoming holiday.
"It's almost Thanksgiving, you know? I bet he wants to do it when the family is here, to celebrate. Make it special."
Leslie rolled her eyes and wiped her mouth with a napkin. She had known Ellie for the last six years, and what she loved most about her friend was her unfailing sense of hopefulness. Ellie was a sweetie, and Leslie was more a cynic. Somehow they struck a balance.
"Well, Ellie honey. You guys went ring shopping two months ago already...! He better hurry up!"
Ellie shrugged and rolled her ice cubes around her cup of cold coffee, not saying anything. She thought he would do it soon, she had a feeling he would do it soon...she hoped it would be soon.
Jason felt like he was being bombarded.
Sitting in his brother's living room on the sofa with a beer in hand, he was being subjected to yet another commercial featuring a cute couple and a sparkly diamond ring going for a good price. The couple leans in to kiss and the jeweler's name appeared on the screen and he grimaced and covered his eyes. Next commercial break it would probably play again.
"What man? You out of beer already?" His brother John got up from the Lazy Boy with his empty beer bottle in hand and headed for the kitchen.
"No," Jason called. "I'm ok."
He heard the fridge open and close and John reappeared with another beer, sinking himself back into his chair and eyeing Jason.
"Then what? Because you came in here looking troubled. Don't deny it, I know you man, I can tell." Jason sighed and put his beer on the coffee table.
"Man, I am just not feeling right lately...about Ellie and this whole engagement thing." John took a sip of beer and looked at his little brother squarely.
"Look, Jason. The whole thing shouldn't be taken lightly. It's promising yourself to another person for the rest of your life. God knows I thought a long time before I got up the guts to propose to Hannah." Jason sighed again and hung his head.
"Yeah, I know." He pictured Ellie and her smile and her soft brown hair. " But I just don't know if that is really what I want."
John took another sip and settled back into his chair as the game came back on.
"Well I will tell you this, brother. Ellie is a damn good woman. And honest, you would be a fool to let her escape. When you find something good...you hold on. You make it last." Jason closed his eyes and tried not to feel sick.
Two weeks ago on a Wednesday he had been on the job, landscaping the front of the Merrill building just outside of downtown. He had been trimming up the shrubs by the main entrance when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around he came face to face with Kelley Fitz, his high school ex-girlfriend. They had gone steady starting sophomore year, right up to two weeks after graduation, when they parted ways...she went to an out of state university and he chose community college.
"Jason? Hey." She smiled and her eyes crinkled just like he remembered.
"Hey, Kelley." He smiled back, a genuine smile, and took of his protective glasses. "How are you?"
"I'm pretty good. I just came back into town last week. I'm working here at Merrill now," she added, gesturing at the building. "Just started Monday."
"Well congratulations, that is great!" They stood smiling and taking each other in for a moment. Kelley took a deep breath.
"Hey...maybe we could get together sometime? Catch up? Here is my card." She handed him a light blue business card with her name across the top and the company logo across the bottom. She started in toward the glass doors before pausing to look at him over her shoulder. "Give me a call sometime, ok?" He nodded and held up her business card.
"Ok."
That Friday Jason gave Kelley a call around lunch time and they sat down and caught up.
On Monday they caught up again. And again on Wednesday. This last week they had lunch together four days in a row. Jason had been with Ellie for the last two years but he didn't find himself thinking about her as much as he used to, didn't feel enchanted by her smile anymore. He had started thinking more about what to say to Kelley at their next lunch, found himself laughing about some high school memory, relaxed when she sat down across from him and talked to him in their old familiar way. He had known Kelley since third grade and had been with her most of high school, and seeing her again now brought back a lot of good memories. At times he even found himself wondering if they could make it work again. It wasn't until their last lunch when Kelley had suggested dinner that he thought that maybe he wasn't being fair to Ellie. Kelley's request conflicted with their date night, and he had asked to cancel, his guilty conscience weighing on his shoulders...
"Baby, can we cancel? I'm sorry but I just can't tonight. Promise I will make it up to you next week." Ellie sighed and smirked.
"Well alright. I have been meaning to go see that new movie with Leslie, we can make it a girls' night." She kissed him. "But you better make it up next week. Even with family around."
"Ok." He smiled, but he felt sick inside. Ellie trusted him totally, didn't even ask what his plans were. If she did he knew he wouldn't be able to lie...and then where would they be? Jason left for dinner not feeling his best, but anxious to see Kelley.
She was already there when he walked in. Her pale blonde hair caught the low light and looked golden, and he smiled, thinking how beautiful she looked. He thought of the way all the other guys had looked at him enviously at Senior Prom, with Kelley on his arm...she had been a goddess with her hair in ringlets, and a low cut gold dress. That was the year they won King and Queen, of course.
"Hey!"She smiled and squeezed his hand as he sat down across from her. "I went ahead and got some wine, hope you don't mind." There was a goblet of deep red in front of his plate. "Try it, it's a special California blend."
He smiled and lifted the glass, taking a sip. He thought the taste was awful...wine was not his thing, beer was. But he swallowed the mouthful and smiled anyway.
"Yeah, it's alright."
"Oh come on, it is more than 'alright!' This is delicious." She took another sip from her glass and picked up the menu. "Anyway, let's order. I'm hungry."
"Yeah, me too." Jason chuckled nervously.
The conversation continued unbroken, flowing until they finished with main course. Jason couldn't put a finger on it but he kept getting more and more uncomfortable. He felt like Kelley was sliding back into high school mode, felt like tonight all he could see were the things about her that hadn't changed. As the waiter cleared their plates they picked up the dessert menu.
"I would like the tiaramisu, please. And a cappucino." Kelley put her menu down and looked expectantly at Jason.
"Uh, a piece of the chocolate layer cake, please." The waiter nodded and left them alone.
"Oh, Jason,"Kelley sighed his name and leaned forward, stretching out her hands on the table. "I have really enjoyed these last couple weeks. You have made me feel welcome, and right at home here all over again." Her hand moved forward and covered his. "It's like things haven't changed between us, J-Baby."
Jason felt like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. J-Baby? He couldn't believe Kelley had just called him by his high school nickname. Finally he understood why he had been feeling so uncomfortable...this wasn't him. It just wasn't. He wasn't the football player who got the cute cheerleader, he wasn't the Prom King anymore. He was a million miles away from that, he had grown and he had found bigger and better things in his work, his relationships, his life...with Ellie. Life was about moving forward, not back. He stared at Kelley, and he thought like he was seeing her again for the first time. She was still cute and blonde, her hair was the same style and she still wore the color periwinkle like it was her second skin. Kelley was all good memories and familiar feelings, but she didn't know him anymore. She was looking for the same boy she knew in high school, but he was long gone. Closing his eyes, Jason felt certianty. He knew what he wanted. And it wasn't cute, blonde Kelley Fitz. He took out his wallet and put down money to cover their check, getting up smoothly from the table.
"Look, Kelley, this has been great. It really has. Great to catch up and see you again. But I have to go."
He couldn't help smiling at her bewildered look despite himself. "Goodbye."
He didn't even glance over his shoulder to see Kelley sniff indignantly and cross her arms tightly over her chest as the waiter put her tiaramisu and cappucino in front of her, along with a piece of chocolate layer cake that would go uneaten.
"Hey! You all had better finish these mashed taters, I have enough leftovers with the turkey as it is!" Mom's voice rang out loud and clear over the noisy conversation in the family room of Jason's house, full to the ceiling with family and extended family. There were John and Hannah or course, along with their two kids, and Hannah's little sister came too, since their folks had passed and she was still single. Mom's brother Tim and his wife, along with their daughter, and Mr. Brown who lived next door and was widowed, with kids living way out in Washington who only came for Christmas...and of course, Ellie.
John laughed and leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of the wine Mr. Brown had brought for the meal.
"Yeah, Ma, I don't know if we can eat another bite! We have to save room for that pie Ellie made!" Jason saw Ellie smile and blush. "It smelled soooo good!" Mom poked her head back into the dining room and her gaze softened.
"Well alright, I have to tell you I want a piece too. How about we finish clearing up in here and go sit in the living room? I have the coffee brewing and we can eat dessert in there." There was a flurry of activity as extra utensils were gathered, plates rinsed and leftovers covered with foil and bagged to be put away later.
Jason sat with Ellie on the loveseat, a piece of pumpkin pie in his lap. He looked around contentedly at his family and extended family and friends, all gathered talking and eating quietly by the light of the fireplace. In his pocket was nestled a slim black box, lined with red velvet, containing a sparkly diamond ring at a good price, cut the way Ellie had told him she wanted when they went ring shopping almost three months ago...
"Hey now," suddenly Dad's voice rose above the rest and everyone quieted. "Tonight we have been blessed to eat a wonderful meal, and to share some wonderful company. To wrap up this holiday I would like for each of us to mention something we are grateful for. I'll start," Everyone was nodding and put down forks and mugs of coffee as he began. Jason felt himself reflecting on all the things mentioned; family, home, safety, work, love, opportunity. When it came time for him to share, he knew what he was going to say.
"Right now I am so grateful for the presence of everyone here, to be able to spend tonight with so many people I care about. I am especially thankful for Ellie," He turned to look at her and her soft eyes were warm and peaceful, her smile content. In a smooth move he got up from the couch and rested in front of her on one knee. Behind him he heard Mom gasp, and saw John's smile. "Because she has blessed my life in so many ways." From his pocket he produced the little black box, and in Ellie's eyes he could see disbelief, joy, longing. "And I hope that she will keep blessing me, for the rest of my life." He opened the box and revealed the sparkler, offering it to her.
"Ellie," he said he name softly, saying it just to her while the whole room held its breath, rapt. "Ellie, please let me stay by your side always. Please marry me." Her hand slowly extended and she touched his cheek, leaning in closer to kiss him.
"Yes."
As the room around them exploded in congratulations, joy, exclamations, all Jason could focus on was her and found himself feeling excited to know that this was the the first step of a journey forward with Ellie by his side.
"Hey, I never said that...I just think it's coming. It could be anytime."
They were sitting over their cafe sandwiches and sipping lite iced coffees, and discussing the proposal. Because Ellie was sure he would propose any time now, with the upcoming holiday.
"It's almost Thanksgiving, you know? I bet he wants to do it when the family is here, to celebrate. Make it special."
Leslie rolled her eyes and wiped her mouth with a napkin. She had known Ellie for the last six years, and what she loved most about her friend was her unfailing sense of hopefulness. Ellie was a sweetie, and Leslie was more a cynic. Somehow they struck a balance.
"Well, Ellie honey. You guys went ring shopping two months ago already...! He better hurry up!"
Ellie shrugged and rolled her ice cubes around her cup of cold coffee, not saying anything. She thought he would do it soon, she had a feeling he would do it soon...she hoped it would be soon.
Jason felt like he was being bombarded.
Sitting in his brother's living room on the sofa with a beer in hand, he was being subjected to yet another commercial featuring a cute couple and a sparkly diamond ring going for a good price. The couple leans in to kiss and the jeweler's name appeared on the screen and he grimaced and covered his eyes. Next commercial break it would probably play again.
"What man? You out of beer already?" His brother John got up from the Lazy Boy with his empty beer bottle in hand and headed for the kitchen.
"No," Jason called. "I'm ok."
He heard the fridge open and close and John reappeared with another beer, sinking himself back into his chair and eyeing Jason.
"Then what? Because you came in here looking troubled. Don't deny it, I know you man, I can tell." Jason sighed and put his beer on the coffee table.
"Man, I am just not feeling right lately...about Ellie and this whole engagement thing." John took a sip of beer and looked at his little brother squarely.
"Look, Jason. The whole thing shouldn't be taken lightly. It's promising yourself to another person for the rest of your life. God knows I thought a long time before I got up the guts to propose to Hannah." Jason sighed again and hung his head.
"Yeah, I know." He pictured Ellie and her smile and her soft brown hair. " But I just don't know if that is really what I want."
John took another sip and settled back into his chair as the game came back on.
"Well I will tell you this, brother. Ellie is a damn good woman. And honest, you would be a fool to let her escape. When you find something good...you hold on. You make it last." Jason closed his eyes and tried not to feel sick.
Two weeks ago on a Wednesday he had been on the job, landscaping the front of the Merrill building just outside of downtown. He had been trimming up the shrubs by the main entrance when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around he came face to face with Kelley Fitz, his high school ex-girlfriend. They had gone steady starting sophomore year, right up to two weeks after graduation, when they parted ways...she went to an out of state university and he chose community college.
"Jason? Hey." She smiled and her eyes crinkled just like he remembered.
"Hey, Kelley." He smiled back, a genuine smile, and took of his protective glasses. "How are you?"
"I'm pretty good. I just came back into town last week. I'm working here at Merrill now," she added, gesturing at the building. "Just started Monday."
"Well congratulations, that is great!" They stood smiling and taking each other in for a moment. Kelley took a deep breath.
"Hey...maybe we could get together sometime? Catch up? Here is my card." She handed him a light blue business card with her name across the top and the company logo across the bottom. She started in toward the glass doors before pausing to look at him over her shoulder. "Give me a call sometime, ok?" He nodded and held up her business card.
"Ok."
That Friday Jason gave Kelley a call around lunch time and they sat down and caught up.
On Monday they caught up again. And again on Wednesday. This last week they had lunch together four days in a row. Jason had been with Ellie for the last two years but he didn't find himself thinking about her as much as he used to, didn't feel enchanted by her smile anymore. He had started thinking more about what to say to Kelley at their next lunch, found himself laughing about some high school memory, relaxed when she sat down across from him and talked to him in their old familiar way. He had known Kelley since third grade and had been with her most of high school, and seeing her again now brought back a lot of good memories. At times he even found himself wondering if they could make it work again. It wasn't until their last lunch when Kelley had suggested dinner that he thought that maybe he wasn't being fair to Ellie. Kelley's request conflicted with their date night, and he had asked to cancel, his guilty conscience weighing on his shoulders...
"Baby, can we cancel? I'm sorry but I just can't tonight. Promise I will make it up to you next week." Ellie sighed and smirked.
"Well alright. I have been meaning to go see that new movie with Leslie, we can make it a girls' night." She kissed him. "But you better make it up next week. Even with family around."
"Ok." He smiled, but he felt sick inside. Ellie trusted him totally, didn't even ask what his plans were. If she did he knew he wouldn't be able to lie...and then where would they be? Jason left for dinner not feeling his best, but anxious to see Kelley.
She was already there when he walked in. Her pale blonde hair caught the low light and looked golden, and he smiled, thinking how beautiful she looked. He thought of the way all the other guys had looked at him enviously at Senior Prom, with Kelley on his arm...she had been a goddess with her hair in ringlets, and a low cut gold dress. That was the year they won King and Queen, of course.
"Hey!"She smiled and squeezed his hand as he sat down across from her. "I went ahead and got some wine, hope you don't mind." There was a goblet of deep red in front of his plate. "Try it, it's a special California blend."
He smiled and lifted the glass, taking a sip. He thought the taste was awful...wine was not his thing, beer was. But he swallowed the mouthful and smiled anyway.
"Yeah, it's alright."
"Oh come on, it is more than 'alright!' This is delicious." She took another sip from her glass and picked up the menu. "Anyway, let's order. I'm hungry."
"Yeah, me too." Jason chuckled nervously.
The conversation continued unbroken, flowing until they finished with main course. Jason couldn't put a finger on it but he kept getting more and more uncomfortable. He felt like Kelley was sliding back into high school mode, felt like tonight all he could see were the things about her that hadn't changed. As the waiter cleared their plates they picked up the dessert menu.
"I would like the tiaramisu, please. And a cappucino." Kelley put her menu down and looked expectantly at Jason.
"Uh, a piece of the chocolate layer cake, please." The waiter nodded and left them alone.
"Oh, Jason,"Kelley sighed his name and leaned forward, stretching out her hands on the table. "I have really enjoyed these last couple weeks. You have made me feel welcome, and right at home here all over again." Her hand moved forward and covered his. "It's like things haven't changed between us, J-Baby."
Jason felt like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. J-Baby? He couldn't believe Kelley had just called him by his high school nickname. Finally he understood why he had been feeling so uncomfortable...this wasn't him. It just wasn't. He wasn't the football player who got the cute cheerleader, he wasn't the Prom King anymore. He was a million miles away from that, he had grown and he had found bigger and better things in his work, his relationships, his life...with Ellie. Life was about moving forward, not back. He stared at Kelley, and he thought like he was seeing her again for the first time. She was still cute and blonde, her hair was the same style and she still wore the color periwinkle like it was her second skin. Kelley was all good memories and familiar feelings, but she didn't know him anymore. She was looking for the same boy she knew in high school, but he was long gone. Closing his eyes, Jason felt certianty. He knew what he wanted. And it wasn't cute, blonde Kelley Fitz. He took out his wallet and put down money to cover their check, getting up smoothly from the table.
"Look, Kelley, this has been great. It really has. Great to catch up and see you again. But I have to go."
He couldn't help smiling at her bewildered look despite himself. "Goodbye."
He didn't even glance over his shoulder to see Kelley sniff indignantly and cross her arms tightly over her chest as the waiter put her tiaramisu and cappucino in front of her, along with a piece of chocolate layer cake that would go uneaten.
"Hey! You all had better finish these mashed taters, I have enough leftovers with the turkey as it is!" Mom's voice rang out loud and clear over the noisy conversation in the family room of Jason's house, full to the ceiling with family and extended family. There were John and Hannah or course, along with their two kids, and Hannah's little sister came too, since their folks had passed and she was still single. Mom's brother Tim and his wife, along with their daughter, and Mr. Brown who lived next door and was widowed, with kids living way out in Washington who only came for Christmas...and of course, Ellie.
John laughed and leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of the wine Mr. Brown had brought for the meal.
"Yeah, Ma, I don't know if we can eat another bite! We have to save room for that pie Ellie made!" Jason saw Ellie smile and blush. "It smelled soooo good!" Mom poked her head back into the dining room and her gaze softened.
"Well alright, I have to tell you I want a piece too. How about we finish clearing up in here and go sit in the living room? I have the coffee brewing and we can eat dessert in there." There was a flurry of activity as extra utensils were gathered, plates rinsed and leftovers covered with foil and bagged to be put away later.
Jason sat with Ellie on the loveseat, a piece of pumpkin pie in his lap. He looked around contentedly at his family and extended family and friends, all gathered talking and eating quietly by the light of the fireplace. In his pocket was nestled a slim black box, lined with red velvet, containing a sparkly diamond ring at a good price, cut the way Ellie had told him she wanted when they went ring shopping almost three months ago...
"Hey now," suddenly Dad's voice rose above the rest and everyone quieted. "Tonight we have been blessed to eat a wonderful meal, and to share some wonderful company. To wrap up this holiday I would like for each of us to mention something we are grateful for. I'll start," Everyone was nodding and put down forks and mugs of coffee as he began. Jason felt himself reflecting on all the things mentioned; family, home, safety, work, love, opportunity. When it came time for him to share, he knew what he was going to say.
"Right now I am so grateful for the presence of everyone here, to be able to spend tonight with so many people I care about. I am especially thankful for Ellie," He turned to look at her and her soft eyes were warm and peaceful, her smile content. In a smooth move he got up from the couch and rested in front of her on one knee. Behind him he heard Mom gasp, and saw John's smile. "Because she has blessed my life in so many ways." From his pocket he produced the little black box, and in Ellie's eyes he could see disbelief, joy, longing. "And I hope that she will keep blessing me, for the rest of my life." He opened the box and revealed the sparkler, offering it to her.
"Ellie," he said he name softly, saying it just to her while the whole room held its breath, rapt. "Ellie, please let me stay by your side always. Please marry me." Her hand slowly extended and she touched his cheek, leaning in closer to kiss him.
"Yes."
As the room around them exploded in congratulations, joy, exclamations, all Jason could focus on was her and found himself feeling excited to know that this was the the first step of a journey forward with Ellie by his side.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
The Kid from Delphine
Most people can't find it on the map, the town of Delphine. It gets lost along the state route and then you come to the next big town over, and you get distracted and forget what you were looking for to begin with.
There is only one gas station, and one grocery, and the post office is so small that come Christmas you can hardly get in the door because the whole damn town is trying to get in at the same time.
Everyone goes to buy their laundry detergent at the same place, and all of the kids have the same color folders and notebooks from the little bookstore on the corner, and you can only go to two services on Sundays...the eight o'clock at Freedom Baptist on First Street or the eleven o'clock at Greater Presbyterian on Main Street. Attendance at eleven is usually better.
Delphine has no great claim to fame. It is a small town that has always been small and will go on being small, at least through the foreseeable future.
That doesn't mean that everyone in Delphine is small town, don't be fooled.
He was born on June eleventh at the hospital in the next big town over, and when he first opened his eyes his parents both said they seemed to sparkle, much brighter than the eyes you would expect of a newborn baby.
When he was two years old he won a contest at the nursery for "cutest baby," and his mother couldn't push his stroller down the street without at least a dozen folks stopping her to compliment her little boy and his sweet eyes.
When he was in kindergarten he insisted on joining the school choir, and while they never went anywhere the director recommended that he get singing lessons. He continued with lessons until he was twelve.
In eighth grade he had a brief stint modeling for the uniform store, and was featured in their mini catalog that season. That year he got so many love notes at school and letters at home and even phone calls that his parents briefly considered changing their phone number. But the next year he started high school in the next big town over that drew kids from all over the county and he blended in with the other good-looking teenagers and the letters and phone calls stopped.
He played soccer for a few months freshman year, before quitting the team and joining the chorus. He impressed the director so much that she started offering him solos and even booked him to sing the national anthem before football and basketball games.
Everything changed the day she recorded him at a regular chorus practice, in preparation for a county competition. He never knew he was being recorded until later.
It was a normal Thursday afternoon and his mother was making a casserole with her special bean dip while his father worked on the backyard...just a few minutes before they sat down to dinner the doorbell rang.
On the front steps stood two representatives from Capital Recordings. They asked politely to speak with the young man in the house and without saying too much popped the recording into the dvd player and there he was at chorus practice, his voice clear and strong and resonant, drawing you in. At the end of the two minute clip both of the representatives were sitting with elbows on their knees, leaning in toward the television, entranced. When the recording stopped they both seemed to shake themselves out of a daze and straightened their ties.
"That is not a talent you hear every day," Said one.
In two weeks they had negotiated a contract that allowed him to finish the year before going into the recording studio that summer, and by fall he was releasing his first album, which would go gold in just 9 months.
Fast forward three years, just after his nineteenth birthday in November.
He had finished high school on the road, leaving Delphine behind him to go to Atlanta and continue recording, hiring his cousin who majored in business and communications to be his manager and making contacts and deals while trying to get used to his new celebrity. He had always been the cutie, the cute baby and the cute teenager, but after one year he couldn't even get a coffee without being mobbed. In an interview he speculated that it must be his "sparkling eyes," and hundreds of thousands of teen girls across the nation were inclined to agree. His hit single that came out in the following months and stayed on the charts for weeks was "Electric Eyes," much to his amusement. He played concerts in clubs, then special events, then was the opening act for a music tour with Soundstage Records and their golden artist, Mixx Magick, who was sitting at number two on the charts across the nation. After he finished recording his second album and it went platinum in seven months, he knew he'd hit it big. That summer he was on the road in his own bus, on his own tour, and he was the headline. Mixx Magick called to congratulate him.
Now he owned a condo in Atlanta and a little property in Miami, and paid off his parents' mortgage and treated them to a European tour for their twentieth wedding anniversary. He spent more time on the road than in the studio, and only made it back home for holidays.
As he turned off the state route and started down the quiet two lane highway his eyes fell on a sign half hidden by snow. "Delphine, 21 miles." His mouth turned up in a small smile and he admired the countryside covered in snow, the woodlands looming ahead and all the overhead branches covered by a layer of ice. Rolling into town he felt the memories flooding him...seeing the little candy store where he used to spend his allowance, the crosswalk that marked his route to school, the playground that he had donated to renovate, his grade school and the new arts wing attached to it bearing his name. Surrounded by all of the familiar streets and signs and buildings he felt like he was home, like the snow starting to fall from the quiet gray sky was the equivalent of confetti in a welcome home parade. So little had changed.
Pulling into his driveway he felt excitement coursing through him, doubled by the sight of his mother dropping the front curtain. While he got out of his car and brought in his small duffel bag he heard the front door open and there they stood, both his parents with happy anxious faces. They embraced him and he breathed in the familiar smell of his mother's perfume, the scent of apple pie cooling on the stove clinging to his father's sweater and broke into a wide smile. He was home.
No matter how far he had traveled, how much he had accomplished, this place would always be home. Settling down with a mug of hot chocolate and kicking off his Jordans and removing the tailored black leather bomber you could see in his sparkling eyes that he was still just a regular kid from Delphine, happy to be home for the holidays.
There is only one gas station, and one grocery, and the post office is so small that come Christmas you can hardly get in the door because the whole damn town is trying to get in at the same time.
Everyone goes to buy their laundry detergent at the same place, and all of the kids have the same color folders and notebooks from the little bookstore on the corner, and you can only go to two services on Sundays...the eight o'clock at Freedom Baptist on First Street or the eleven o'clock at Greater Presbyterian on Main Street. Attendance at eleven is usually better.
Delphine has no great claim to fame. It is a small town that has always been small and will go on being small, at least through the foreseeable future.
That doesn't mean that everyone in Delphine is small town, don't be fooled.
He was born on June eleventh at the hospital in the next big town over, and when he first opened his eyes his parents both said they seemed to sparkle, much brighter than the eyes you would expect of a newborn baby.
When he was two years old he won a contest at the nursery for "cutest baby," and his mother couldn't push his stroller down the street without at least a dozen folks stopping her to compliment her little boy and his sweet eyes.
When he was in kindergarten he insisted on joining the school choir, and while they never went anywhere the director recommended that he get singing lessons. He continued with lessons until he was twelve.
In eighth grade he had a brief stint modeling for the uniform store, and was featured in their mini catalog that season. That year he got so many love notes at school and letters at home and even phone calls that his parents briefly considered changing their phone number. But the next year he started high school in the next big town over that drew kids from all over the county and he blended in with the other good-looking teenagers and the letters and phone calls stopped.
He played soccer for a few months freshman year, before quitting the team and joining the chorus. He impressed the director so much that she started offering him solos and even booked him to sing the national anthem before football and basketball games.
Everything changed the day she recorded him at a regular chorus practice, in preparation for a county competition. He never knew he was being recorded until later.
It was a normal Thursday afternoon and his mother was making a casserole with her special bean dip while his father worked on the backyard...just a few minutes before they sat down to dinner the doorbell rang.
On the front steps stood two representatives from Capital Recordings. They asked politely to speak with the young man in the house and without saying too much popped the recording into the dvd player and there he was at chorus practice, his voice clear and strong and resonant, drawing you in. At the end of the two minute clip both of the representatives were sitting with elbows on their knees, leaning in toward the television, entranced. When the recording stopped they both seemed to shake themselves out of a daze and straightened their ties.
"That is not a talent you hear every day," Said one.
In two weeks they had negotiated a contract that allowed him to finish the year before going into the recording studio that summer, and by fall he was releasing his first album, which would go gold in just 9 months.
Fast forward three years, just after his nineteenth birthday in November.
He had finished high school on the road, leaving Delphine behind him to go to Atlanta and continue recording, hiring his cousin who majored in business and communications to be his manager and making contacts and deals while trying to get used to his new celebrity. He had always been the cutie, the cute baby and the cute teenager, but after one year he couldn't even get a coffee without being mobbed. In an interview he speculated that it must be his "sparkling eyes," and hundreds of thousands of teen girls across the nation were inclined to agree. His hit single that came out in the following months and stayed on the charts for weeks was "Electric Eyes," much to his amusement. He played concerts in clubs, then special events, then was the opening act for a music tour with Soundstage Records and their golden artist, Mixx Magick, who was sitting at number two on the charts across the nation. After he finished recording his second album and it went platinum in seven months, he knew he'd hit it big. That summer he was on the road in his own bus, on his own tour, and he was the headline. Mixx Magick called to congratulate him.
Now he owned a condo in Atlanta and a little property in Miami, and paid off his parents' mortgage and treated them to a European tour for their twentieth wedding anniversary. He spent more time on the road than in the studio, and only made it back home for holidays.
As he turned off the state route and started down the quiet two lane highway his eyes fell on a sign half hidden by snow. "Delphine, 21 miles." His mouth turned up in a small smile and he admired the countryside covered in snow, the woodlands looming ahead and all the overhead branches covered by a layer of ice. Rolling into town he felt the memories flooding him...seeing the little candy store where he used to spend his allowance, the crosswalk that marked his route to school, the playground that he had donated to renovate, his grade school and the new arts wing attached to it bearing his name. Surrounded by all of the familiar streets and signs and buildings he felt like he was home, like the snow starting to fall from the quiet gray sky was the equivalent of confetti in a welcome home parade. So little had changed.
Pulling into his driveway he felt excitement coursing through him, doubled by the sight of his mother dropping the front curtain. While he got out of his car and brought in his small duffel bag he heard the front door open and there they stood, both his parents with happy anxious faces. They embraced him and he breathed in the familiar smell of his mother's perfume, the scent of apple pie cooling on the stove clinging to his father's sweater and broke into a wide smile. He was home.
No matter how far he had traveled, how much he had accomplished, this place would always be home. Settling down with a mug of hot chocolate and kicking off his Jordans and removing the tailored black leather bomber you could see in his sparkling eyes that he was still just a regular kid from Delphine, happy to be home for the holidays.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Imposter
Stand up straight. It helps to keep your gut in.
Shoulders back. You want good posture.
Cross your legs. You are wearing a skirt today.
Her hair was pulled back in a severe and simple ponytail, slicked down along her forehead with a little dab of styling gel. Eyes lowered to the page were heavily and carefully lined with black liner, applied carefully that morning with a slightly unsteady hand. The red lipstick was too much for her dusky face, making her look like someone trying too hard to be fashionable, and making her self'conconcoius. Her mother had always said corals were more her color.
When she rose from her disorganized desk to go to the copier her heels gave her away, inexpertly trying to walk and not make too much noise on the tiled floor. She stood uncomfortably, trying to ignore the slight pain in her toes as she waited for the man in front of her to fix the paper jam and go on his way. She watched a coworker walk past in her green pencil skirt, perfect white blouse and nude heels. Longing and jealousy rolled over her... I wish I could look like her.
And she did. Her eyes just couldn't see it, and her mind just wouldn't let her believe it.
Thirteen months ago she was not the same woman. She was almost 200 pounds, a milkshake and burrito junkie who dealt with her anxiety by snacking on Oreos and chocolate milk. It was easy for her to hide behind clothing, wearing long and large pants and tunics that disguised her rolls. Shoes were stable and simple, without heels. She was fat and embarassed, but not enough to do something about it. Until her interview.
Williams & Co. was one of the larger and finer publishing companies around, well known for producing works of science, political histories and biographies of prominent and popular figures. It wasn't every day that they were looking for new client managers and scouts.
So the morning of the interview she dressed in her best suit, black of course, which was meant to be slimming. She straightened her thick black hair and put on lipstick, took her best brief case with various recommendations and resume, and walked into the intimidating white stone office building with confidence and a nervous energy that made her palms sweat.
Waiting in reception to be ushered into the interview, she watched the hustle and bustle around her. Everyone in the office was smiling, walking briskly with papers, books or iPads in hand with a purpose and dressed in trendy clothing from glasses to shoelaces. They all had a similar look, the men and women, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it until she looked down at her folded hands in her large lap and realized...that they were all in slim good shape, unlike her.
Despite the blow to her confidence she had knocked them out in the interview. They were left impressed with her resume, with her ideas for finding new clients, with her interest. She would find out within the next three days if the job would be hers.
That day she got home and binged on Oreos, thinking jealously and hopelessly about all of the slim and trendy figures she had seen at Williams & Co., convinced that she would never join their ranks, that it was not in her destiny. But she wanted to try! Instead of hiding behind the same tunic shirts and black suits and flat shoes. Wiping her eyes and pushing the Oreos to one side, she brushed her teeth to get the taste out of her mouth and looked online for a local gym, researching two before signing up for a yearlong membership. I am going to be the skinny girl in a pencil skirt, damn it.
The next day she got a call from Williams & Co. Could she start next Monday? She would have her own workspace and basic benefits, and would start with scouting and helping to manage two accounts. Yes, she would be there.
That afternoon she went out and bought two sets of workout clothes, in turquoise, complete with a sweatband and hit the gym with her brand new membership.
After that first day of puffing and burning, she resolved to go every day for at least one hour. After the first week she enlisted the help of one of the nutritionist/trainers at the gym, and started a strict diet. In a month she had lost close to 10 pounds and found that cherry tomatoes and celery were tastier than she remembered.
The black suit was tossed, and she began to pin her pants at the waist. But when she looked in the mirror she could only see how much farther she had to go...how much more she had to lose.
Her workouts continued on a daily basis, even on the days when it was an effort just to walk up the steps at the gym and she came home too tired to even brush her teeth. She changed her regimen, doing kick-boxing and power yoga and spinning, rotating every two weeks to a new activity to supplement her normal routine.
Her body was like an emerging sculpture...from the encasement of fat and slack muscles a new version of herself began to take form, being chiseled by every moment on the elypitcal and every push-up. After almost 9 months of dedication her transformation was nearly complete. The clothes she had started working with no longer fit and hung loose. Going up the steps she no longer felt breathless. She felt freer in her movements, but she was still struggling to see herself. When she looked in the mirror she saw the same baggy reflection staring back, superimposed over her face and hips...whenever someone commented on her new shape, complimented her clothes or makeup, she smiled and said "thank you" and inside a little voice in her head was saying "you can do better..."
She stood over the copy machine with her supervisor's notes in hand and shoulders hunched, wearing a smart pencil skirt that showed off her perfect bottom and in a perfectly tailored blouse that showed her great muscle tone, punching buttons to make her copies and trying to keep her head down. The little voice in her head reprimanded her... "stand up straight!"
Despite having worked well with the rest of the staff and receiving various compliments from her supervisors, she still felt like at any moment someone would find her out, realize that she was just an imposter in a pencil skirt and was really a big fat fake that didn't deserve to be there at all.
But you could see the results of her hard work in every project, in every tone muscle...the only one who could not see was she.
Shoulders back. You want good posture.
Cross your legs. You are wearing a skirt today.
Her hair was pulled back in a severe and simple ponytail, slicked down along her forehead with a little dab of styling gel. Eyes lowered to the page were heavily and carefully lined with black liner, applied carefully that morning with a slightly unsteady hand. The red lipstick was too much for her dusky face, making her look like someone trying too hard to be fashionable, and making her self'conconcoius. Her mother had always said corals were more her color.
When she rose from her disorganized desk to go to the copier her heels gave her away, inexpertly trying to walk and not make too much noise on the tiled floor. She stood uncomfortably, trying to ignore the slight pain in her toes as she waited for the man in front of her to fix the paper jam and go on his way. She watched a coworker walk past in her green pencil skirt, perfect white blouse and nude heels. Longing and jealousy rolled over her... I wish I could look like her.
And she did. Her eyes just couldn't see it, and her mind just wouldn't let her believe it.
Thirteen months ago she was not the same woman. She was almost 200 pounds, a milkshake and burrito junkie who dealt with her anxiety by snacking on Oreos and chocolate milk. It was easy for her to hide behind clothing, wearing long and large pants and tunics that disguised her rolls. Shoes were stable and simple, without heels. She was fat and embarassed, but not enough to do something about it. Until her interview.
Williams & Co. was one of the larger and finer publishing companies around, well known for producing works of science, political histories and biographies of prominent and popular figures. It wasn't every day that they were looking for new client managers and scouts.
So the morning of the interview she dressed in her best suit, black of course, which was meant to be slimming. She straightened her thick black hair and put on lipstick, took her best brief case with various recommendations and resume, and walked into the intimidating white stone office building with confidence and a nervous energy that made her palms sweat.
Waiting in reception to be ushered into the interview, she watched the hustle and bustle around her. Everyone in the office was smiling, walking briskly with papers, books or iPads in hand with a purpose and dressed in trendy clothing from glasses to shoelaces. They all had a similar look, the men and women, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it until she looked down at her folded hands in her large lap and realized...that they were all in slim good shape, unlike her.
Despite the blow to her confidence she had knocked them out in the interview. They were left impressed with her resume, with her ideas for finding new clients, with her interest. She would find out within the next three days if the job would be hers.
That day she got home and binged on Oreos, thinking jealously and hopelessly about all of the slim and trendy figures she had seen at Williams & Co., convinced that she would never join their ranks, that it was not in her destiny. But she wanted to try! Instead of hiding behind the same tunic shirts and black suits and flat shoes. Wiping her eyes and pushing the Oreos to one side, she brushed her teeth to get the taste out of her mouth and looked online for a local gym, researching two before signing up for a yearlong membership. I am going to be the skinny girl in a pencil skirt, damn it.
The next day she got a call from Williams & Co. Could she start next Monday? She would have her own workspace and basic benefits, and would start with scouting and helping to manage two accounts. Yes, she would be there.
That afternoon she went out and bought two sets of workout clothes, in turquoise, complete with a sweatband and hit the gym with her brand new membership.
After that first day of puffing and burning, she resolved to go every day for at least one hour. After the first week she enlisted the help of one of the nutritionist/trainers at the gym, and started a strict diet. In a month she had lost close to 10 pounds and found that cherry tomatoes and celery were tastier than she remembered.
The black suit was tossed, and she began to pin her pants at the waist. But when she looked in the mirror she could only see how much farther she had to go...how much more she had to lose.
Her workouts continued on a daily basis, even on the days when it was an effort just to walk up the steps at the gym and she came home too tired to even brush her teeth. She changed her regimen, doing kick-boxing and power yoga and spinning, rotating every two weeks to a new activity to supplement her normal routine.
Her body was like an emerging sculpture...from the encasement of fat and slack muscles a new version of herself began to take form, being chiseled by every moment on the elypitcal and every push-up. After almost 9 months of dedication her transformation was nearly complete. The clothes she had started working with no longer fit and hung loose. Going up the steps she no longer felt breathless. She felt freer in her movements, but she was still struggling to see herself. When she looked in the mirror she saw the same baggy reflection staring back, superimposed over her face and hips...whenever someone commented on her new shape, complimented her clothes or makeup, she smiled and said "thank you" and inside a little voice in her head was saying "you can do better..."
She stood over the copy machine with her supervisor's notes in hand and shoulders hunched, wearing a smart pencil skirt that showed off her perfect bottom and in a perfectly tailored blouse that showed her great muscle tone, punching buttons to make her copies and trying to keep her head down. The little voice in her head reprimanded her... "stand up straight!"
Despite having worked well with the rest of the staff and receiving various compliments from her supervisors, she still felt like at any moment someone would find her out, realize that she was just an imposter in a pencil skirt and was really a big fat fake that didn't deserve to be there at all.
But you could see the results of her hard work in every project, in every tone muscle...the only one who could not see was she.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Love and Rabies
It had been almost two years since they had tied the knot...approximately 10 months of that time had been spent in two different countries, with thousands of miles between them.
How had two years gone by so fast? Maybe it was between the flights and Skype phone calls, and working hours and paychecks that made the distance seem worthwhile.
But it was starting to show. The distance was forming a fissure between them, in the way they looked at each other. It was just not the same.
The first two months were bliss. The little apartment they bought and filled with things became a home, a quiet place and a refuge. When they met there in the evenings after work it was a relief to see one another and get a hug and kiss and something more, and then talk and share and laugh.
After two months, he decided that he would look for a better job. They needed to save if they were going to buy a house, have a family, live a good life. So work took him far away, and she smiled and kissed him goodbye, sad but hopeful. It was all for the best.
Four months came and went. He arrived home and she was overjoyed. It was a sweet reunion.
And then he left again.
Another four months went by. Her happiness started to wane. She never wanted for anything, but money did not protect her from lonliness. As the months passed and she heard little, her spirits fell more and more. When he came home, she looked different and her joy was muted.
While he was away he found diversions and interesting things to distract himself. He was busy working and seeing all there was to see. He would come home when he could, and she had all she needed.
Now it had been almost two months, and she had fallen into depression.
She called him one day, tears in her eyes and her voice cracking, to tell him that she was tired and having trouble. How, he asked, why, he asked. Don't you have everything you need?
No, she told him. I need you.
But the money was too good, and the freedom to sweet, he could not give it up. He would not give it up for her.
Her heart was growing cold, and he did not reach out to stoke the fire. She grew ravenous. She hungered for him, calling to him and sending him messages and he ignored them, to ingrossed in his fun to respond.
When he came home next, he found her lying in bed, unmoving, eyes lifeless and her heart quiet, eaten from the inside out by love. She had given in to the lonliness.
He had lost her. And he finally remembered how much he had loved her.
Too late.
How had two years gone by so fast? Maybe it was between the flights and Skype phone calls, and working hours and paychecks that made the distance seem worthwhile.
But it was starting to show. The distance was forming a fissure between them, in the way they looked at each other. It was just not the same.
The first two months were bliss. The little apartment they bought and filled with things became a home, a quiet place and a refuge. When they met there in the evenings after work it was a relief to see one another and get a hug and kiss and something more, and then talk and share and laugh.
After two months, he decided that he would look for a better job. They needed to save if they were going to buy a house, have a family, live a good life. So work took him far away, and she smiled and kissed him goodbye, sad but hopeful. It was all for the best.
Four months came and went. He arrived home and she was overjoyed. It was a sweet reunion.
And then he left again.
Another four months went by. Her happiness started to wane. She never wanted for anything, but money did not protect her from lonliness. As the months passed and she heard little, her spirits fell more and more. When he came home, she looked different and her joy was muted.
While he was away he found diversions and interesting things to distract himself. He was busy working and seeing all there was to see. He would come home when he could, and she had all she needed.
Now it had been almost two months, and she had fallen into depression.
She called him one day, tears in her eyes and her voice cracking, to tell him that she was tired and having trouble. How, he asked, why, he asked. Don't you have everything you need?
No, she told him. I need you.
But the money was too good, and the freedom to sweet, he could not give it up. He would not give it up for her.
Her heart was growing cold, and he did not reach out to stoke the fire. She grew ravenous. She hungered for him, calling to him and sending him messages and he ignored them, to ingrossed in his fun to respond.
When he came home next, he found her lying in bed, unmoving, eyes lifeless and her heart quiet, eaten from the inside out by love. She had given in to the lonliness.
He had lost her. And he finally remembered how much he had loved her.
Too late.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Welcome Back
I woke up at 7:09 am, six minutes before my alarm. Normally nothing can ever wake me
up before my alarm. It must have been my dream.
I was in Uncle Andy’s orchard, back in rural Georgia, destination for family reunions. I
was underneath a peach tree, reaching upwards for the fruit hanging ripe and ready. The view
was from above: I could look down on myself. I was wearing my prom dress from senior year,
the salmon colored, strapless one. My shoulders looked so creamy white, and I could even see
my freckles. My hair hung down my back in ringlets, the same style I wore when my hair was
long. The strangest part, though, was that I was standing on Cibo’s shoulders and he was in his
Marine uniform. I could feel his hands on my ankles, holding me there. I don’t know if I took the
peach or not, because I woke up. But the sensation stayed in my ankles.
The commute to Anderson and Hirsch Law Offices took about 23 minutes each morning.
I woke up and showered, sprayed on some Vera Wang grandma bought me for Christmas, dress
in my black-white-and-gray uniform for the office, and leave with an apple in hand. I always
forget to brush my teeth…today was no exception. My mind was focused on remembering
Cibo’s face in the dream. I tried to figure out if he looked the same in my mind as he did in the
pictures on the mantel.
Marla was wearing her pink heels at work. That meant she’d had a good night. Marla,
with her red bob and enhanced boobs, only wore her pink heels after a good night. It seems to
me that since she and Henry split, she’s had a lot more of them. She flashed me a grin as I went
to my desk. Way to go, Marla.
Lori was her usual prim self, sitting behind her desk dutifully updating her Google
calendar. I’ve never understood how she balances so many schedules, between Mr. Anderson,
Mr. Hirsch, and herself. But that is why they hired her, the personal assistant and executive
secretary. Lori, for all her cat figurines and manic calendar updating, knows what she’s doing.
Settling behind my desk, my sigh ruffles the mountain of paperwork Lori already
dropped off for me, and I rev up my old computer. My fingers ski the worn keyboard, and my
eyes play over the picture frames in front of me. Inevitably, my gaze settles on Cibo’s face.
Imagine growing up with the name Charles Brown. The unavoidable nickname is Charlie
Brown, and I know he always hated it. Its not that he didn’t like Peanuts the comic, he just hated
being picked on. He was never a big kid in school, so it was only natural. But being Charlie
Brown, on top of a shrimp, was tough. When we met in high school, he had already changed his
nickname, starting fresh.
Cibo was quiet. Not creepy quiet, like the goth kid in the cafeteria corner, but thoughtful
quiet. Back when we had English together he would sit silent for the whole class, but have an
incredible response for the homework question Mr. Molloy threw out. That was Cibo for you. He
was neighbors with Helena, my best friend. When he asked me to Prom, I said yes. And I was
relieved that he looked good in a tux, and even more relived when he didn’t freak out at me
taking his hand on the way home. He just looked at me with those brown eyes, and smiled long
and slow. I thought I was melting. In the back of my mind, I thought, I can say my boyfriend is
Charlie Brown. I giggled when he first kissed me.
The phone ringing jolts me, and I respond automatically.
“Anderson and Hirsch Law, this is Anna speaking. How may I help you?”
“Hi Anna, I need to make an appointment with Mr. Ronald Hirsch.” This guy sounded
tired, and in need of a lawyer. Naturally.
“Sure, one moment, let me transfer you to Mr. Hirsch’s personal assistant.”
I started in on my pile of paperwork, taking my eyes off Cibo’s picture. By midmorning I could
see my desk again, and I had only gotten two papercuts. Around 12:30 I could hear Marla’s pink
heels approaching my desk.
“Hey Annie girl, you wanna go for lunch?” I looked up at Marla’s hopeful smile and
glanced at my diminished pile.
“Sure.”
We went to Peppercorn Café, three blocks away. It was sunny for April, and warm.
Spring weather is Cibo’s favorite, but I like fall more. Marla and I talked about Brangelina,
Easter plans, phone bills.
“I’m just glad tomorrow’s payday, you know?” Yes, tomorrow was payday. How could I
forget?
Cibo’s parents don’t have a lot of money, and neither do mine. Our wedding had been
tiny, just sixty people together at First Baptist on the corner of Main and Second. My mom made
sloppy joes and potato salad, and the reception was in Cibo’s backyard on cheap rented dance
floor with my brother’s makeshift bar teetering on one corner serving Jack, Jim and José.
Grandma Louise had a Jack and coke in her hand the whole night, but the only thing I remember
clearly was being in Cibo’s arms on the creaky dance floor. He looked sharp in his perfectly
pressed Marine uniform. Part of that unforgettable first dance were the tears in his eyes, and how
in love he sounded when he whispered “I love you” in my ear. I was a princess in my ninety-nine
dollar gown and Helena’s pearl earrings, and he made me feel that way. Thinking back on it, I
wouldn’t trade that cheapie wedding for anything. It was perfect. Even Grandma Louise’s drunk
yells when we kissed, tongue and all, right there in public.
Three months later we were living in a one bedroom apartment above his uncle’s garage,
and I was working nights at Holcom’s Bar. Cibo had a part time job working security at the
country club. We both made enough, but money was still tight. College kept getting put off. We
knew there was no one to pay for it.
And then Cibo got the phone call. One night later he was uniformed and stone faced,
giving me a soft kiss and then not looking back on his way out the door. Gone to do his duty. I
cried, and then I went back to work. I told myself that crying wouldn’t do him any good. That
was when I cut my hair pixie short. Maybe it was my way of grieving.
Back at the office I had more paperwork, and Lori is in a meeting with Anderson and
Hirsch. Marla and I settled back to our desks, manning the phones and tackling the filing for the
week. My eyes started to feel tired after staring at the neon yellow filing folders, and I took a
break for some coffee. Marla joined me, crossing her tone legs and jiggling one pink heel up and
down. The movement started to give me a headache.
At the end of the day I gathered the recyclable paper from all of our desks. Lori usually
does it, but she had to leave early for a dentist appointment. I tossed the paper into the box next
to the printer, and fdentist appointment. ound Marla chatting with Mr. Anderson by the back
door. She was making flirty eyes at him, and I can’t blame her. Mr. Anderson looks good for a
forty-seven year old widower, and Marla didn’t get a boob job for nothing. I hid my smile as I
gathered my things at my desk, trying not to focus too much on Cibo’s picture, and instead
remembering where I put my keys. Before I got into my car Marla called to me.
“Annie, honey, do you want to go out for a while tonight?” I knew she meant going to
DaSilva’s, the bar downtown. Marla always met the nice men there, and she would go across
town to find the other kind of men. But neither place suits me, with a diamond on my ring finger.
“No thanks. Maybe some other time, Marla.”
“Ok, honey, sure thing.” Marla shrugged and got into her Saturn, quickly fleeing the
parking lot, followed conspicuously by Mr. Anderson’s big black SUV. It must have been a
DaSilva’s night.
Once home I shed my office clothes and change into sweatpants. Cibo’s clothes become
mine when he’s gone. At least they still smell like him. Dinner is a poptart and some applesauce
mom made me. I chew my lip watching Jeapordy and wish for a bigger budget. Before going to
bed I walk past the mantle, and Cibo’s picture again. My fingers trace his smile, and I close my
eyes and imagine him.
I’m in the bathroom brushing my teeth when I hear two knocks on the front door. Its
10:43 already, too late for anyone I would normally expect. I quickly rinse my mouth and
approach the door, glancing out of the peephole to see who it is. I swallow a scream. The door is
thrown open, and there is Cibo in his uniform, looking at me with tired, happy eyes. His hands
are warm under my shirt, and I crush myself against his muscular chest, thrilled and relieved. He
picks me up with one arm and brings me indoors.
“Baby,” he whispers in my anxious ear, “I’m home."
And I turn into the melting girl at Prom again, and in my dream I see myself sharing a
peach with Cibo in Uncle Andy’s orchard, as we lick juice off each other’s chins. I smile and
think that, There is no way Marla’s night will match mine.
Friday, April 27, 2012
No Day Like Tomorrow
Navy blue blazer, navy blue dress pants, light blue pinstripe button-down, and navy blue tie with waves.
This was what he wore on most Wednesdays, his halfway through the week wardrobe. His wife ironed all of his shirts on Sunday afternoons and hung them neatly in his closet, and he rotated through the week.
Wednesdays were always his blue days.
This Wednesday was like most others. He got up around 6:30am and showered, shaved and his wife got up a little after to put the coffee on and wake up thier son.
She served him a plate of toast and eggs with ham, and he ate without saying a word as he scrutinized Forbes magazine. Wiping his mouth on a napkin he put his plate in the sink and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth as his wife prepared a bowl of cereal.
By 7:20 he was walking into the garage, catching a glimpse of his son coming down the stairs and waving his arms,
"Daddy! Are you going now? Bye Daddy!"
"Yep, I don't want to be late! Bye bye!"
"Daddy, when can we go to the park? You promised!"
"Tomorrow, ok? We can go tomorrow, Daddy is busy today. Bye!"
And he closed the door behind him, sliding into his gray sedan and rolling out of the garage, hurrying toward the highway and merging with traffic.
Around 1pm he left the office to get lunch, walking out of his building and down the street to the corner shop. As he was taking his second bite of a roast beef sandwhich his cell phone vibrated in his pocket, a call from an unfamiliar number.
"Hello?"
"Honey, it's me." His wife's voice was quiet and unsteady, and he felt alarm rising in him.
"What is it? Is everything ok?"
"Oh honey. He's gone."
"What?? Who is gone? Who are you talking about, where are you??"
"I'm at the hospital. It's Sammy, honey. Sammy is gone."
"What?" His Sammy, his son. He just saw him a few hours ago, he was just there, waving and talking.
"We were on the way home from kinder. The other driver ran a red light. He hit the side of the car-" Her voice broke and she cried, and he felt his own throat get tight. "He hit Sammy's side and..." She couldn't finish.
As he began to cry, he realized in a wave of grief and regret that there would never be a tomorrow to go to the park. There had only been today.
This was what he wore on most Wednesdays, his halfway through the week wardrobe. His wife ironed all of his shirts on Sunday afternoons and hung them neatly in his closet, and he rotated through the week.
Wednesdays were always his blue days.
This Wednesday was like most others. He got up around 6:30am and showered, shaved and his wife got up a little after to put the coffee on and wake up thier son.
She served him a plate of toast and eggs with ham, and he ate without saying a word as he scrutinized Forbes magazine. Wiping his mouth on a napkin he put his plate in the sink and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth as his wife prepared a bowl of cereal.
By 7:20 he was walking into the garage, catching a glimpse of his son coming down the stairs and waving his arms,
"Daddy! Are you going now? Bye Daddy!"
"Yep, I don't want to be late! Bye bye!"
"Daddy, when can we go to the park? You promised!"
"Tomorrow, ok? We can go tomorrow, Daddy is busy today. Bye!"
And he closed the door behind him, sliding into his gray sedan and rolling out of the garage, hurrying toward the highway and merging with traffic.
Around 1pm he left the office to get lunch, walking out of his building and down the street to the corner shop. As he was taking his second bite of a roast beef sandwhich his cell phone vibrated in his pocket, a call from an unfamiliar number.
"Hello?"
"Honey, it's me." His wife's voice was quiet and unsteady, and he felt alarm rising in him.
"What is it? Is everything ok?"
"Oh honey. He's gone."
"What?? Who is gone? Who are you talking about, where are you??"
"I'm at the hospital. It's Sammy, honey. Sammy is gone."
"What?" His Sammy, his son. He just saw him a few hours ago, he was just there, waving and talking.
"We were on the way home from kinder. The other driver ran a red light. He hit the side of the car-" Her voice broke and she cried, and he felt his own throat get tight. "He hit Sammy's side and..." She couldn't finish.
As he began to cry, he realized in a wave of grief and regret that there would never be a tomorrow to go to the park. There had only been today.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
She Misses Him
3pm.
Her watch tells her she only has two more hours at the office. Thoughts about the dinner menu come to mind, what she could make for him this evening...maybe pasta, he likes pasta. And there is still a red wine somewhere in the house...on a post-it she makes a list of the few ingredients she will need, so she can stop at the corner market on her way home.
3:41pm.
He texts her, saying that he will have to spend the night in the city so he can make it to work on time the following day. Ok, she responds, good luck and hope it all goes well.
She crumples up the list of ingredients and thinks to herself that the pasta dinner she can save for another day.
She steers her thoughts away from dissapointment and reminds herself to be grateful that they both have work.
5:28pm.
It is drizzling outside and she pulls her cardigan closer, taking out an umbrella. She waves good-bye to the security guard and stops at the market on the way home anyway, picking out a microwave dinner. She ate the last one the night before.
As she opens the front door he texts her again, telling her that he got an offer for a weeklong tour and plans to take it.
Hey, great, she responds, is there anything I can do to help you get ready?
No, he says, I will come by tomorrow in the afternoon and repack a bag for the week.
She won't see him at all before he goes, as she will still be at work when he comes home. The tv stays on the local news channel and she warms up her dinner, consoling herself with a glass of wine. The rest of it she will store and save for the pasta dinner...sometime after the tour.
8:07pm.
She brushes her teeth and settles in for an evening watching the new episodes. She texts him goodnight.
I am out eating with a friend, he responds. I have had two shots already.
Ah, enjoy, she tells him...she cannot remember the last time they went out for drinks.
I am heading home soon, I will call when I am in bed.
Ok, she tells him.
12:19am.
The phone is by her pillow and she dozes, waiting for his call. She turns the tv off and reaches across the bed, imagining touching his back and the feeling of his arms around her, his breath on her bangs. But he isn't there. And he won't be, not for a while.
I miss you already, she texts him.
He never writes back. And he never calls to say goodnight, or that he misses her too.
Her watch tells her she only has two more hours at the office. Thoughts about the dinner menu come to mind, what she could make for him this evening...maybe pasta, he likes pasta. And there is still a red wine somewhere in the house...on a post-it she makes a list of the few ingredients she will need, so she can stop at the corner market on her way home.
3:41pm.
He texts her, saying that he will have to spend the night in the city so he can make it to work on time the following day. Ok, she responds, good luck and hope it all goes well.
She crumples up the list of ingredients and thinks to herself that the pasta dinner she can save for another day.
She steers her thoughts away from dissapointment and reminds herself to be grateful that they both have work.
5:28pm.
It is drizzling outside and she pulls her cardigan closer, taking out an umbrella. She waves good-bye to the security guard and stops at the market on the way home anyway, picking out a microwave dinner. She ate the last one the night before.
As she opens the front door he texts her again, telling her that he got an offer for a weeklong tour and plans to take it.
Hey, great, she responds, is there anything I can do to help you get ready?
No, he says, I will come by tomorrow in the afternoon and repack a bag for the week.
She won't see him at all before he goes, as she will still be at work when he comes home. The tv stays on the local news channel and she warms up her dinner, consoling herself with a glass of wine. The rest of it she will store and save for the pasta dinner...sometime after the tour.
8:07pm.
She brushes her teeth and settles in for an evening watching the new episodes. She texts him goodnight.
I am out eating with a friend, he responds. I have had two shots already.
Ah, enjoy, she tells him...she cannot remember the last time they went out for drinks.
I am heading home soon, I will call when I am in bed.
Ok, she tells him.
12:19am.
The phone is by her pillow and she dozes, waiting for his call. She turns the tv off and reaches across the bed, imagining touching his back and the feeling of his arms around her, his breath on her bangs. But he isn't there. And he won't be, not for a while.
I miss you already, she texts him.
He never writes back. And he never calls to say goodnight, or that he misses her too.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
The Lost High School
Day one.
He put a syllabus on each desk, along with the reading list for the class. Walking back to the front of the room he stood surveying...everything was ready. In its place.
Then he opened his door, the little neon green "open your mind" sign swinging invitingly into the hallway. He sat down behind his desk, pushing the four orange elephant shaped paperweights back into the four corners and adjusting his glasses on his button nose. Folding his hands and closing his eyes he leaned back to wait. The bell would ring in exactly 37 minutes.
Inevitably there was the student who wandered in before the bell rang, interrupting his moment of mediation with footsteps and rustling jacket, scraping chair and tapping fingers. He opened his eyes and settled his gaze on boy who had chosen a second row seat, in the process of removing his green windbreaker. He smiled welcomingly and opened a folder in the center of his desk, scanning a page full of names and ages.
There were 23 minutes left.
The boy reached into his backpack and retrieved a sketchbook and pencil and began to create in quiet scribbles, eyes down. He said nothing.
In the minutes before and after the bell the room seemed to flood with students. He sat quietly behind his desk and smiled serenely as they enetered, in a myriad of colors and voices. In the midst of finding seats he watched as the desks filled and the carefully laid syllabus was buried under backpacks or scanned by anxious eyes. Once evryone was seated a hush seemed to fall over the room and faces turned forward expectantly toward the front of the room and his figure behind the desk.
Examining the new faces he sensed that the crowd held all kinds of students...defiant ones, bored ones, serious ones, angry ones. The faces looking at him were mostly white with a scattering of darker skinned but not black faces, indistinguishable, and forgettable...he was reminded again of the situation of this town, how it had held for him the promise of a slight and delicate hope. Not because of opportunity and excitement, oh no, but because of statistics.
Students here had a 1 in 10 chance of making it to college. Drop outs were as common as adolecent acne, teenage pregnancies were announced at least once a month, and the last football championship had been in the 80s. There was a sense of acceptance that this was just a stop on the way to an unexciting and uninviting life here in the same town...maybe pumping gas or sitting behind the counter at the local library, or stocking the shelves at the grocery, styling the same women with the same haircut and color at the salon. The vast majority of the people who were born here died here too, and surrounded by cornfields and removed from the highway there was little contact with the rest of the world, apart from television and the occasional trucker or vacationing family at one of the two motels in town. Yet a kind of desperation hung over the people here, sometimes strengthing enough to be felt over the thick layer of acceptance, and potent in the young people who still dared to dream dreams of a life beyond this small town.
And so he had arrived to fill the vacant post of English teacher at the local high school, a fresh face on a staff that was worn in and worn down after years of teaching the same subjects and watching the same kind of student rise and fall, only to escape graduation, or to escape to college and then return to a minimum wage job. It was the lost campus, the lost school in a lost town somewhere in the middle of America mediocrity.
He stood up and took a deep breath.
"Welcome, everyone, to Freshman English 102."
Eyes took in his plain black slacks, shined oxfords, pressed blue pinstriped shirt and glasses. He was as nondescript as the students before him in Levis and off brand sneakers. But there was a growing energy in the room, transmitted by his voice and the curiosity of the young people before him. He had been excited to have a freshman class...the newest students, all full of promise and hope and dreams.
"This year we are going to be studying all the basics. You will see on your desk a required reading list, and I will tell you now that there will be a required 6 page essay following each piece of literature." He smiled a small smile as a groan rose upon hearing this last announcement, and put up a hand to call for silence. "At the end of the academic year you will have to present a research portfolio on a topic of your chosing, subject of course to my approval."
Now there were only sullen and dismayed faces looking at him, and some eyes had begun to turn away in disinterest as pencils drew idly on the margins of his syllabus.
"If everyone would please look at the syllabus on your desk, and note the assignment listed under today's date?"
There was a shuffling of paper and backpacks as students took the syllabus in hand. He pointed at the early bird in the second row.
"Young man, will you please read the assignment out loud for the class?"
The sketchbook boy looked petrified at being singled out, but swallowed and did not hesitate, reading in a slightly high pitched but steady voice.
"Day one: Write a short, one-page description of what your life is now and what you hope it will become, due at the end of class." He finished and looked up, eyebrows raised.
"Very good. Thank you." He turned his bespectacled gaze on the rest of the class, poised for instruction. "Well, you have about 40 more minutes to complete this assignment. You may begin now."
There was a bustle as notebooks were opened and pages turned, pens and pencils being taken into hands and eyes narrowed or widened at the blank page and a quiet scratching began as students started writting.
"Please do not forget to put your name at the top of the page. Take your time. And there will be no homework today." He sat down behind his desk again and folded his hands, eye flicking to the nearest elephant on his desk.
One by one students finished the assignment, putting down writing utensils and scanning the page, occasionally correcting a word or adding a little something. When the bell rang signaling the end of class there was a collective scrape of chairs and students filed up to his desk, handing in a single page and scurrying out the door.
"Thank you and see you Wednesday!" His voice was barely heard above the conversation and movement.
When the classroom was empty and he held 24 pages in his hands he sat back down and started comparing the names to the class list, catching a first word or sentance of each assignment...
"I come from a family of..."
"My Mom has told me..."
"My life is..."
"The life I live..."
"'Ordinary' might be too ordinary..."
"Someday..."
As he began to read the first page, written in blue ink and only about 3 paragraphs long, he thought to himself that while some educators might consider this hopeless, he was filled with the desperate hope that these students would not end up where he had...at a lost high school in a lost little town that stank of middle of America mediocrity.
He put a syllabus on each desk, along with the reading list for the class. Walking back to the front of the room he stood surveying...everything was ready. In its place.
Then he opened his door, the little neon green "open your mind" sign swinging invitingly into the hallway. He sat down behind his desk, pushing the four orange elephant shaped paperweights back into the four corners and adjusting his glasses on his button nose. Folding his hands and closing his eyes he leaned back to wait. The bell would ring in exactly 37 minutes.
Inevitably there was the student who wandered in before the bell rang, interrupting his moment of mediation with footsteps and rustling jacket, scraping chair and tapping fingers. He opened his eyes and settled his gaze on boy who had chosen a second row seat, in the process of removing his green windbreaker. He smiled welcomingly and opened a folder in the center of his desk, scanning a page full of names and ages.
There were 23 minutes left.
The boy reached into his backpack and retrieved a sketchbook and pencil and began to create in quiet scribbles, eyes down. He said nothing.
In the minutes before and after the bell the room seemed to flood with students. He sat quietly behind his desk and smiled serenely as they enetered, in a myriad of colors and voices. In the midst of finding seats he watched as the desks filled and the carefully laid syllabus was buried under backpacks or scanned by anxious eyes. Once evryone was seated a hush seemed to fall over the room and faces turned forward expectantly toward the front of the room and his figure behind the desk.
Examining the new faces he sensed that the crowd held all kinds of students...defiant ones, bored ones, serious ones, angry ones. The faces looking at him were mostly white with a scattering of darker skinned but not black faces, indistinguishable, and forgettable...he was reminded again of the situation of this town, how it had held for him the promise of a slight and delicate hope. Not because of opportunity and excitement, oh no, but because of statistics.
Students here had a 1 in 10 chance of making it to college. Drop outs were as common as adolecent acne, teenage pregnancies were announced at least once a month, and the last football championship had been in the 80s. There was a sense of acceptance that this was just a stop on the way to an unexciting and uninviting life here in the same town...maybe pumping gas or sitting behind the counter at the local library, or stocking the shelves at the grocery, styling the same women with the same haircut and color at the salon. The vast majority of the people who were born here died here too, and surrounded by cornfields and removed from the highway there was little contact with the rest of the world, apart from television and the occasional trucker or vacationing family at one of the two motels in town. Yet a kind of desperation hung over the people here, sometimes strengthing enough to be felt over the thick layer of acceptance, and potent in the young people who still dared to dream dreams of a life beyond this small town.
And so he had arrived to fill the vacant post of English teacher at the local high school, a fresh face on a staff that was worn in and worn down after years of teaching the same subjects and watching the same kind of student rise and fall, only to escape graduation, or to escape to college and then return to a minimum wage job. It was the lost campus, the lost school in a lost town somewhere in the middle of America mediocrity.
He stood up and took a deep breath.
"Welcome, everyone, to Freshman English 102."
Eyes took in his plain black slacks, shined oxfords, pressed blue pinstriped shirt and glasses. He was as nondescript as the students before him in Levis and off brand sneakers. But there was a growing energy in the room, transmitted by his voice and the curiosity of the young people before him. He had been excited to have a freshman class...the newest students, all full of promise and hope and dreams.
"This year we are going to be studying all the basics. You will see on your desk a required reading list, and I will tell you now that there will be a required 6 page essay following each piece of literature." He smiled a small smile as a groan rose upon hearing this last announcement, and put up a hand to call for silence. "At the end of the academic year you will have to present a research portfolio on a topic of your chosing, subject of course to my approval."
Now there were only sullen and dismayed faces looking at him, and some eyes had begun to turn away in disinterest as pencils drew idly on the margins of his syllabus.
"If everyone would please look at the syllabus on your desk, and note the assignment listed under today's date?"
There was a shuffling of paper and backpacks as students took the syllabus in hand. He pointed at the early bird in the second row.
"Young man, will you please read the assignment out loud for the class?"
The sketchbook boy looked petrified at being singled out, but swallowed and did not hesitate, reading in a slightly high pitched but steady voice.
"Day one: Write a short, one-page description of what your life is now and what you hope it will become, due at the end of class." He finished and looked up, eyebrows raised.
"Very good. Thank you." He turned his bespectacled gaze on the rest of the class, poised for instruction. "Well, you have about 40 more minutes to complete this assignment. You may begin now."
There was a bustle as notebooks were opened and pages turned, pens and pencils being taken into hands and eyes narrowed or widened at the blank page and a quiet scratching began as students started writting.
"Please do not forget to put your name at the top of the page. Take your time. And there will be no homework today." He sat down behind his desk again and folded his hands, eye flicking to the nearest elephant on his desk.
One by one students finished the assignment, putting down writing utensils and scanning the page, occasionally correcting a word or adding a little something. When the bell rang signaling the end of class there was a collective scrape of chairs and students filed up to his desk, handing in a single page and scurrying out the door.
"Thank you and see you Wednesday!" His voice was barely heard above the conversation and movement.
When the classroom was empty and he held 24 pages in his hands he sat back down and started comparing the names to the class list, catching a first word or sentance of each assignment...
"I come from a family of..."
"My Mom has told me..."
"My life is..."
"The life I live..."
"'Ordinary' might be too ordinary..."
"Someday..."
As he began to read the first page, written in blue ink and only about 3 paragraphs long, he thought to himself that while some educators might consider this hopeless, he was filled with the desperate hope that these students would not end up where he had...at a lost high school in a lost little town that stank of middle of America mediocrity.
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