Archive for March 2005

See You Later

She made no move to come closer to me, but seemed to only be polite and cordial.

“That was a great duet,” she ventured.

I stared at her a few moments before turning my gaze back toward the darkening horizon. You could barely see the sun casting its fiery, blood-kissed arms of light into the panoramic evening sky. It had turned a hazy purplish-red, the blues mixing with the lingering tendrils of sunlight, turning it into a chaotic kaleidoscope of colors. It was exactly what I was feeling at that moment; a jumble of ricocheting pinballs inside my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Nodding my head slightly, I replied,”Yeah, it was, but of course, you carried us through it all.”

“No, I think you’re the one who moved the audience,” she whispered quietly.

“Oh? I see. I guess there was just something that I could empathize with,” I murmured.

“I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean it to end up that way,” she blurted out. Her eyes began to sparkle and shine, as tears began to form at the edges of her eyes. Her face was a mask of sadness, fighting to hold back the eruption of grief.

“Hey, it’s ok. You can’t help what you feel. That’s just the way things are, that’s all.”

“Do you forgive me?” she asked hesitantly, wiping her face to prevent the waterworks from exploding.

“I don’t know, Jess. It still hurts, but I’m not mad at you anymore. I’m not sure exactly. I just don’t know…” I murmured.

She took a couple of steps closer and stood facing me. “Are we friends? I guess I can’t expect you to say ‘yes’, but I hope that one day, we can be friends again.” Her voice cracked with the strain. Within those words I detected an echoing heartbreak, and I almost caved in. I still cared about her well-being and I never liked to see someone I cared for in such pain, even though she had unintentionally created the tornado that we got sucked into.

“Yeah, maybe, one day.” My tone was sorrowful, but edged with a certain hardness. I didn’t want to let her back in. We had always been good friends, but I couldn’t totally forgive her transgressions. That chaotic entanglement had crushed me; more than I would ever admit. And the wounds had barely begun to scab over.

They still itched daily.

The space between us became silent, enveloping us, and blocked out the chatter of the others mingling around. The distress clung to her like strands of matted, wet hair. The disquiet threatened to punch a hole in her mask, and would have capsized the boat of liquid crystals that was desperately trying to stay afloat. I looked up and took a deep breath. Breathing a sigh, I started to speak.

“Hey, big brotherrrrr…” my sister sang.

Her voice snapped me out of my trance, and I looked over to see her bounding toward me with two of her friends in tow. She didn’t notice Jess, or my somber mood, and ran up to me excitedly.

“Hey, guess what?” she crowed.

Before I could even open my mouth, she blew right up to me like an electrifying whirlwind. “Mom and dad have a surprise for you! Guess what it is? Guess!”

I knew my sister, and I knew her well. That’s why I never answered any of her rhetorical questions because before I could ever respond, she’d end up telling me anyway. Looking at her, I raised a questioning eyebrow and that was the only signal she needed before she let loose.

“They’re sending you to France!” She was practically jumping up and down with glee, even though she wouldn’t be going along. She was simply excited because she could break the news to me, her all-knowing brother.

“Wha? Europe? France?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yeah! France, Switzerland and I forgot the other place. Dad said that Aunt and Uncle, along with Lynn are going this summer and they asked if you would like to go. Dad thought that it’d be good for you to get out there and understand and appreciate other countries, or something like that.” She was almost tearing apart at the seams with giddiness.

She always had a habit of speed talking when she was excited. Often, only people who were familiar with her speech patterns could follow her vocalizations. There were times when even our parents got confused when she got going. I was used to her jabbering though, being able to filter out all the extraneous information, leaving me with the essential parts.

“Ahhh, I see.” I replied.

This was part of my father’s philosophy. The only way for one to learn and grow, is to go out there and experience it for themselves. To learn, you must be given the chance and then what you do with that chance is up to you, but you shouldn’t waste it. He didn’t believe in coddling or the easy path. There was no easy path or shortcuts to achieving greatness, or success. You worked hard and tried your best, even when you’re lost and alone. If you dig yourself a hole, you pull yourself out of it.

I knew my father and the ideology that he dished out, although I didn’t often follow it at the time. I was young, stupid and immature. But as I would later grow into adulthood, I would truly understand and appreciate the enormous gift he had given me.

“So? You want to go or not? Mom and Dad are talking to people and wanted me to find you and ask you what you wanted to do.”

My sister’s question snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Sure, I guess I can go. It’s gonna just be Aunt, Uncle, Lynn and me?” I queried. “You’re not coming?”

She responded with a snort. “Nope! I’ve got soccer camp and practice this summer and I’m not going to miss that.”

“Yeah, go tell Mom and Dad that I’ll go. There’s not much left for me here.” I said, casting a sideways glance at Jess, who was still standing there, watching our exchange.

Why not go? Thinking about it, I realized that I needed a change. I needed to get away from this burden, and by the time I came back, maybe this would all be over and done with. Then there was the new start next year, in high school.

“Ok! I’ll see you later big brotherrrrr…” she yelled back toward me, as she ran off.

“So I guess you’re going to Europe this summer,” Jess said quietly. “I guess it’s for the best.”

“Yeah, I guess so. After all, it is Europe. I don’t get to go that often, you know. I’ve gotta run now.”

I hopped off the stage and turned to go. Grabbing my arm, she stopped me from walking away.

“Send me a postcard when you’re there, ok? I’ve never been to France before.”

“Sure thing,” I said, while nodding. “I’ll see you later, Jess.”

Walking away, I glanced back at her silent silhouette, and thought I saw falling tears. It could have been my imagination, because there was nothing left for me here.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

End of Days

Melody and harmony. The cascading chords wafted through the air, gently borne on the effortless strength of well-trained voices. Notes floated and settled on the hands and faces of our parents and loved ones, covering them like a blanket of breeze-blown scented petals. The lingering notes swirled and embraced the listeners, as they found purchase in their hearts.

The sound of clapping echoed through the auditorium as the song ended. My eyes swept across the crowd, anticipating what was to happen next. Climbing down the steps, I made my way to the front of the assembled choir. Spotting Jess, I noticed her picking her way through her section, choosing a path to where I stood.

When she reached me, we each took a mic in our hands and waited for the cues from our conductor. I looked at her, trying to catch her eye, but she hardly paid any attention to me. She kept rubbing her fingers together, trying to dissolve the nervousness that showed in her posture. Finally peeking up at me, I tried to reassure her with a smile, but she didn’t seem to notice. Seeing me watching her, she looked away, embarrassed and rubbed her hands together.

A quizzical expression crossed my face, as a question flashed through my mind. What was she thinking? But before I could explore that thought further, the piano started playing. Almost losing my cue during that brief lapse in concentration, I opened my mouth just in time.

How do I say goodbye to what we had?
The good times that made us laugh
Outweigh the bad.

I thought we’d get to see forever
But forever’s gone away
It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

The words and feelings of the song consumed me, unlocking something within. As my voice found its own rhythm, it carried my unfurling emotions over the heads of everyone who was watching. All the pain and sorrow that had exhausted me all year, was slowly bleeding away. All that was left was an ardent rendition of a well-known, and beloved song.

I don’t know where this road
Is going to lead
All I know is where we’ve been
And what we’ve been through.

If we get to see tomorrow
I hope it’s worth all the wait
It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

Her beautiful soprano drifted out into the darkened sky, crying out to an understanding heart because the sorrow was visible to the naked ear. At her age, she was already a national vocal finalist. Her strength and range surpassed most of our peers, and even college students, with more experience than she had. Her voice could take you by the hand, guide you to that place where melancholy lay, there in the shadows, listening to the tears roll down the spiraled sadness of a song.

And I’ll take with me the memories
To be my sunshine after the rain
It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

And I’ll take with me the memories
To be my sunshine after the rain
It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

As the song ended, I gazed out across the audience and saw people standing, smiling, and applauding. The sound of clapping rose to an almost unbearable crescendo, with an underlying murmur of voices that could be heard. Their warmth and appreciation rolled over me, leaving me breathless and joyful, but tinged with a hint of loneliness. This cathartic release of pent up feelings all but ate away at what was left of my emotional core. I was drained.

Standing there with the crowd’s applause ringing in my ears, I watched as parents and children moved to leave, and then reality hit me. My life as a middle-school student was now over.

Sure, there were a week left of school, but after the graduation ceremony, we would all go our separate ways. The younger students would remain in the familiar comforts of these halls, however, for us 8th graders, we’d be heading into high school. Some of us would meet again, while others would end up going to a different school across town. From then on, there would be even more division as the years crept along. New schools, new environments, and what was to be new lives.

Overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions threatening to engulf me, I walked to the edge of the stage and sat down, staring out at the polychromatic horizon. People hurried by, their joyful chatter could be heard as they sought out friends and loved ones. I wanted to wait for the tumult to die down before venturing off the stage.

“Hey!” I heard her voice call me.

Looking over, I saw Jess standing off to one side of the stage, hands clasped in front of her, watching me intently.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.