Goodbye to a Friend by Beth Ann Clark

The rain always makes her sad. But today it is more than just the rain. She just sits with her arms falling over the back of the chair looking at her friend’s house across the street. The day’s events keep playing in her mind like a film. A tear falls from her eye and quickly absorbs into the carpet.

            Lana remembers meeting Ms. Rosen like it was yesterday. In truth, it was a year ago on July 4^th, and everyone in town met up at the town square for the annual parade. Lana and her family have attended the July 4^th parade every year since they moved to Sundown three years ago. They love the town and how friendly everyone is. But Lana has been unsure about living in a smaller town. To this day, she had not met many people her age, and did not feel as welcome as her parents did.

The town’s firemen cook hotdogs and hamburgers and serve ice cold sodas every year on July 4^th for the community. Lana got her usual hot dog and drink and sat down in her normal spot on the curb in front the town’s bank to watch the parade. She could see every float and person in the parade from that spot. Every year, Lana sat alone on the curb as the parade passed by, but that would soon end.

Just as the parade was about to start, a lady who was about eighty years old and walked with a cane slowly approached the area where Lana was sitting. The woman sat carefully in a green and white lawn chair, and placed her cane by her side, leaning it against her chair. Lana noticed that the woman was alone and wondered where her family was. Why is she alone?

She then heard the woman say, “The parade seems bigger each year.”

Lana looked up at the woman whose short white hair got caught in the wind.

“Don’t you think so dear?” the woman asked.

Lana smiled. “Yes.”

The next thing she knew, the woman started to talk about how she grew up in Sundown and how they have had the July 4th parade every year since she was a little girl. Lana heard about the years when the woman’s husband and children came to the parade, and how different the town used to be.

“What is your name, dear?” the woman asked.

“Lana.”

“I’m Ms. Rosen. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Lana and Ms. Rosen gave each other a smile.

Every day after that special July 4th, Lana spent hours at Ms. Rosen’s house hearing stories of her growing up in Sundown. She heard all about how Ms. Rosen met her husband at one of the parades, when they got married, the time when he went away to war in 1942, and when the cancer took him away from her in 1988. She saw pictures of Ms. Rosen and her husband; her three children, George, Paul, and Ann; her grandchildren; and great grandchildren. Her two sons live in Florida, and her daughter lives in Colorado, so she rarely saw her family.

Specifically on Saturdays, Lana would go to Ms. Rosen’s and learn how to cook. She loved making and receiving delicious recipes that were created by Ms. Rosen herself. Ms. Rosen had a special ingredient in each recipe that made them wonderful, such as creamy marshmallow in the middle of brownie. Lana gained a love for cooking and would cook a meal or two for Ms. Rosen each week.

For Christmas, Lana went to Ms. Rosen’s house to help decorate

for the season. This was a special time because Lana heard some more stories from Ms. Rosen about her family traditions and favorite things about the season. She told Lana how the community used to decorate the town square in Christmas lights and everyone would sing carols. Lana was able to share some of her family traditions, too. Back and forth they went in their conversation. They talked continuously as they decorated. Lana loved spending time with Ms. Rosen. She had found a friend.

            Now, all these memories with Ms. Rosen have faded away. They no longer make Lana happy. She just sits with her arms falling over the back of the chair looking at Ms. Rosen’s house. A tear falls from her eye.

            She hates to say goodbye.

Breaking Through by Rachael Salinas

“Here we go again…,” Kelly said slumped against the couch. Eyes rolled back. Arms crossed. Her dad was snapping at her in his usual “I’m right you’re wrong” tone. Saying things like, “Because I said so” and “You’re not grateful for all I have done!”

This felt like the hundredth argument this summer that had become oh so common between Kelly and her dad. It all started during what Kelly thought would finally be her so called summer of freedom before freshman year of high school. She was, yet again, forced into another summer of basketball camps. This time the camps were leading up to enrolling for tryouts right before school starts, tomorrow.

Her dad, of course, thought basketball was right for her, because he said so. Kelly didn’t want to play this year or ever again for that matter. She was grateful for all the time and energy that her dad put into basketball for her, but her love lay elsewhere.

As the lecture continued, Kelly’s dad’s booming voice was overpowering what felt like the entire block. Kelly seemed to drift out of the room into a daydream, her dad’s voice fading as her mind was pulled into itself and away from their living room. The room began to look hazy. Through the blur of shades and the distant loss of his voice, soft music began to play in Kelly’s thoughts. She envisioned soft shades of pink and green pastels of light as angelic dancers floated past like screens of an old movie drifting across the view. There was no moment in time that could be better than this one, and Kelly was perched on a hill just out of reach, a child on the sand yearning for the tides.

As quickly as she faded into her daydream she felt herself being pulled back to reality by her father calling her name. As the last dancer floated by so was she pulled off the sidelines of her hopes and back to her living room. Kelly realized that her dad was calling her name to give her a chance to talk, which in her memory was a first. Feeling so tiny and her voice so quiet, she began to try to explain her daydreams of dancers to this tall, strong beast of a father. But as her story spilled out of her she began to grow tall and loud, the beast before her shrinking in size, almost becoming human to her. For the first time ever she felt like she was breaking through to him. That he was understanding her passion and accepting who she was now.

The next day Kelly headed to school and onto the stage for the first time in reality and not a dream. The fights might continue, but for now she danced …

 

A New Normal by Megan Stanley

You could say I was woken up when I was eighteen.  And it was rude.

            I think it would have been easier if it had happened when I was five or six, or maybe even ten.  Instead, I spent my entire life thinking my family was the epitome of the American Dream.

            Family pictures of the four of us suddenly found themselves relocated to my bedroom.  My father suddenly found himself relocated to a hotel room.  And luckily for my brother, unluckily for me, he had relocated to college the previous year. 

            It was the death of all things familiar.  To my mother, I was that big red spot encompassed by many red circles.  The brunt, the repercussions.  She didn’t mean to do it.  I really believe that.  But the words, the screams, the cries…..expecting me to comfort her every move when I hated her for choosing to file.  What I hated even more was that she didn’t even tell us.  Not one of us.  Not even Dad.  We all knew times were tough, but nothing.  Not a word. 

            I spent countless nights wondering what went wrong.  My childhood seemed so perfect.  My dad, an incredibly smart man, had a very successful job.  My mother, very talented, ran and owned a successful dance studio.  My brother and I were good kids.  The four of us would play Nintendo.  Actually, my brother and I rarely got a turn.  My parents loved Contra.  We were happy.  I was naïve, but not naïve enough to think that we were perfect.  We had our arguments and I had my fair share of swats and groundings.  However, whatever the situation, we always got through it…..together.  Together was all I knew.  Together was all I wanted.  I waited three days to tell anyone about it.  I would think, maybe I shouldn’t say anything.  Maybe it won’t really happen.  Wrong. 

            Were they really always happy?  Was it a lie this entire time?  How can something supposedly so great become something so broken? 

            The house felt so wrong, so broken, so dark.  My brother sympathized with my mother, I with my father.  He and I didn’t conflict about the incident with one another, but it was hard to understand how the other felt because we looked at the situation so differently.  He had been hurt by my father, I was being hurt by my mother. 

            The only light, my one glimpse of hope, was my very best friend.  He was there for me, cared for me, and took me places so I didn’t have to be at home.  Church being one of these places.  I had been saved when I was twelve.  But looking back now, I didn’t experience the true meaning, the true glory of God’s grace until I became a follower of Christ, at eighteen, became baptized, and knew what it meant to live my life for Him. 

            The rest of my family was supportive, but no one (in my immediate family), I felt, really understood.  I began to lock myself in my room and read.  I read the bible, books about God’s love and Grace, and anything I could get my hands on that pertained to grace and redemption.  I began to view life in a very different light.  While my whole world was in an uproar, I found stability in God and stability in a wonderful friend, Mark.  I began to discover the truth about my parents divorce and began to find sympathy in my heart for my mother.  And with sympathy, forgiveness. 

            After my decision to move out, my mother and I were able to figure out how to become close again, and even more, we became better friends than we had ever been.  My relationship with my father was always strong and forever will be.  My brother was also there for me the entire time, but because of the confusion of this event, we became better friends and are now able to better understand one another. 

            Though everything I once knew was pulled out from under my feet, leaving me on my behind….we now have found a new normal.  It isn’t the same, and it isn’t ideal, but we have come to a place of peace and forgiveness, and have found a way to exist in happiness once again.  Just not all together.  My parents hadn’t seen each other since their divorce until my wedding four months ago.  I married Mark, my very best friend, who stood by my side through this trivial time.  My parents, having raised me together, sat together, laughed together, and cried together.  My brother, standing so handsome in his tux, teary eyes filled with joy.  He always was my biggest fan.

             It may have been easier if it had happened when I was five or six, or maybe even ten.  But I wouldn’t have the wonderful memories that I hold so dear, and my parents wouldn’t be able to experience the joy of their children, and the monumental events in their lives, so fully without one another. 

 

 

Put on Hold by Amber Douglas

            Elizabeth watched patiently from the cart as Austin hit what seemed to be his tenth bucket of balls. It was getting late and the fall air was rather chilly. Elizabeth was frustrated and had retired from hitting balls several hours before.

            Elizabeth never quite understood what it was that kept Austin going. Was it his drive? Passion? Was it some unfulfilled dream? Maybe she would never understand but for the time being she looked on in admiration.

            For two years after he finished his own sport practices Austin would meet Elizabeth at the golf course in support of her golf game. He picked up the game when she began to get serious about it so that he could spend more time with her because golf was beginning to take up a lot of her time. Meanwhile she was getting better but Austin was the one that was making drastic improvements. Elizabeth was supposed to be the one doing it for sport and Austin just for fun. Most days it seemed the other way around.

            In Elizabeth’s eyes and many others along the way Austin was the real deal. He had the potential to become something bigger than most. He even dressed and looked the part; always adorned in a colorful polo, crisp khakis, and a Titleist hat. Austin had no trouble talking and walking with the best of the game.

            For Elizabeth it was the sparkle in his blue eyes and the smile Austin would flash her after a great shot right after sinking a putt. It was as if he wanted to share the moment with her. Almost a thank you or that was for you. Whatever the look and smile that Austin he always gave her meant, she understood.

            Austin was truly fascinating to watch. Just the sight and sound of that perfect swing attracted people to him. It was as if people at the course were simply drawn to him. There was a thin line between his personality and his raw natural talent that mesmerized the crowds he attracted.

            Was Austin in fact as real as everyone believed? Was he legit? Or was everyone just sucked into the fantasy world that he was living in or even their own dreams of what they wanted him to become?

            And then it happened. It was as if everyone just woke up one day to find the dream shattered. The smiles and encouragement just faded away as if it had all never happened and Austin was some fictional character that didn’t really exist. He simply faded out of everyone’s lives and hearts even Elizabeth’s.

            Austin knew his dreams and goals had to be put on hold. Without the support of Elizabeth he couldn’t press forward. At least not at the time but someday he would reemerge stronger and more driven then ever. He just didn’t know it. No one did.