Year one
We were
nine years old.
"Hi"
I said
to her.
She looked at me,
her eyes narrowed
and critical.
"What?"
She snapped.
"I just wanted-"
I started.
She turned away.
Five minutes later
she turned back.
"Hi"
She said.
"I'm sorry"
She said.
"It's okay"
I said.
And
it
was.
Year two
"I missed you"
I said.
"Same"
She said.
"New school year"
I said.
"Fourth grade"
She said.
"Big year"
I said.
She nodded.
"Maybe"
Year three
"Last year of
elementary school"
I said.
"I'll miss our school"
She said.
I smiled.
She smiled.
She grabbed
my hand.
"Oh"
I said.
She smiled
again.
Year four
"Middle school"
I said.
"I wonder if
it will be
as hard as
everyone says it
will be."
"Maybe"
She said.
"I hope not."
Year five
"You have a girlfriend"
They said.
I blushed.
"I don't"
I looked at
her
She was as red as
a tomato.
"Stop"
I said.
"Girlfriend, girlfriend"
They said.
She looked away.
Year six
"I love you"
She said.
"Oh"
I said.
"Me too."
She smiled.
"Let's go to
the movies"
I said.
She beamed.
"Okay"
she said.
"Girlfriend, girlfriend"
They said.
"Yeah"
I said.
"Girlfriend."
Year seven
"I wonder if
high school
will suck"
She said.
I smiled.
"I dunno"
She took in a
deep breath.
"We can do this"
She said.
"Maybe"
I said.
"I hope so."
Year eight
"How are you doing"
She asked.
"Okay"
I said.
"I need to tell you
something"
She said.
"Okay"
I said again.
Her eyes brimmed
with tears.
"My mom"
She said.
"She died"
She said.
"I'm sorry"
I said.
"I..."
She broke off.
"I... Need you."
"I'm here"
I said.
"I'm here."
Year nine
At lunch
she took a
bucket.
"Are you okay"
I asked.
She shrugged.
"I'm fat."
"No-"
I started.
"I am"
She said.
She ate her
pizza
and threw it up
into the bucket.
"You aren't fat"
I said.
"I am"
She said.
Year ten
"My dad died"
She said.
She looked down
at her shoes.
She sounded broken
she sounded hollow.
"Oh"
I said.
"Oh."
"I want to..."
She stopped.
"Yes"
I said
"I want to die"
She said.
"No"
I said.
"You have to
stay with me
please..."
"Maybe"
She said.
She looked away.
At lunch
she still threw up
into her
bucket.
Year eleven
"It's the last year
of high school"
I said.
"Oh"
She said.
"Aren't you excited"
I asked.
"No"
She said.
"I miss you"
I said.
She glanced at me.
"But-"
"The real you"
I said.
"Not the shell
of yourself."
She looked away.
"Oh"
"Give her back to me"
I said.
"Please."
Year twelve
"College"
I said.
"Yeah"
She said.
She wore a black hoodie
and black jeans
and sadness written
upon her face.
"Cheer up"
I said.
"I try"
She sighed.
"But it doesn't
work."
"Try harder"
I advised her.
"Please
for me."
"Maybe"
She said.
"Maybe."
Year thirteen
Before the next
school year
even started
she was gone.
"Car accident"
They said.
"I'm sorry"
They said.
"No"
I said.
"Nonononononono"
"I'm sorry"
They said again.
She was gone.
Childhood friend.
Love of my life.
I curled up into
a small ball
and sobbed.
"Nononononono"
I hugged her
black hoodie
"No
please
no"
Someone Save Me
In 2010 there was an encounter that shook my faith until this day. My religion is clearly misguided even though I do believe in a higher power.
My mother passed away when I was 13. It’s been nearly 5 years since that time and I still feel that my time with her was stripped away from me too soon. There could have been time, or there should have been more time. I selfishly wished that God would have never taken the one thing away that meant so much to me.
I wanted someone--anyone-- to save me.
Life wasn’t going my way; my immediate family were being idiots from the very start and blatantly left me to sit there and take the reigns for my mother. I was 13. Why was I deciding when she died, and how it would happen? Why didn’t my brother who is 8 years older than me decide?
Why didn’t someone save me?
I was pissed. Pissed beyond compare. I felt alone, isolated, abandoned by the one person who was supposed to be there for me the most and He was not is what I felt. He abandoned me. He left me to rot in an icy Hell that I didn’t know how to get out of. God, why? Is the question I wanted to ask; but remembering the strong faith of my mother she always told me to never question Him. But it never occurred to me the number of questions left unanswered in the wake of this life-shattering event.
Someone should have saved me.
My immediate family still isn’t here. Am I to blame? Is it because I was too angry, too livid from my mother’s passing for them to up and run away from me? Was I not good enough for the people who claim to be my own blood? Why weren’t they here with me? And why aren’t they here still?
Why couldn’t I be saved?
Until this very day my life has spiraled. I’ve almost lost my damn marbles a couple times. Trying to figure out this game we call life. Trying to figure out my purpose and what my Savior really make me for. I’m still wondering when I can be saved.
What is the most beautiful combination of words? The world may never know. Not that it matters. May each and every one of us feel inspired to express our essence and appreciation of ourselves as freely, openly, and powerfully as imagination allows. May our words heal and transform humanity in this most pivotal moment in history.
