A Lesson Taught By Tragedies

Tragedies.  They are unexpected and devastating.  But we never think they will happen to us.  We hear about them every day on the news.  About how those people just went to work and the next thing they knew, plane was crashing through the building.  Or, how those children just went to school ready for another average day, when some of them, watched their friends be shot dead.  But the parents of the kids who died never could have guessed that by sending their child to school that day, would be the last time they saw their child’s precious smile, or little feet that carried them into the death trap.  They never would have guessed that this tragedy could happen to them.

It’s not fair.  It’s not fair that some people have to suffer more pain than others.  But that’s the way life is; not fair.  All the pain that ended lives, never died.  Instead, it haunted every person who ever knew the victim.  It drags the tears down their face, it rips their heart to shreds.  But there is no way to avoid them.  No way to protect yourself from all harm.  No way to be certain that a tragedy won’t happen to you.

What would our life be without tragedies?  Everyone would think it would be better.  Yet, tragedies teach us things we could not learn without them.  We take everything for granted and without tragedies, we would never learn to love the ordinary.  To realize how blessed we really are.   That everything we have is good.  That we get to be around the people we love, and we better love them while we can because tragedies don’t have mercy for anyone; not even innocent children who just went to school like any other day.

The Pen Never Stops Writing

Life is a journey.  We learn a lot along the way.  Whether we’re learning how to walk, or learning how to become a doctor, we don’t realize the significance of it at the time.  We don’t realize how every day our life story is being scrawled out just a little bit longer.  We don’t realize that one day we will run out of paper to write on because the pen never stops writing.

Everyone knows that they will die eventually.  Some are afraid, others are accepting.  People ponder upon how it will happen, when it will happen.  But why waste your time.  You only have so much before you will wonder no more about death.  Instead of contemplating about your death, prepare yourself for it.  Make sure that every minute you live has a purpose.  You are on the Earth for a reason.  You have to find that reason.  Make the most of your life, because the pen never stops writing.

When you read your story at the end of your life, don’t let it be a boring one.  You have to make it just the way you want it, but you’ve only got one shot.  There are no second chances.  You have to be the person you want people to remember you as, whether that is a leader or a follower, a fun person or a serious person, a happy person or a sad person.  You have to choose your story, and you’d better do it quick, because the pen never stops writing.

The people who are clinging to life, with only hours left to live, are the only people that understand what life truly means.  They understand that every second is precious and should not be overlooked. They understand that you have to make mistakes in life for it to be complete.  They understand that life is short and no matter what happens, you have to smile; because you never know when everything will be taken from you.  Always remember that one day you will run out of paper.  One day your story will be over.  Always remember that no matter what happens, the pen never stops writing.

Too Late

            “Hurry Michael! Grab your cleats! We are going to be late!”  I urged climbing into the car.  Michael grabbed his cleats and baseball bag and hopped into the car instantly.  I began to back out of the driveway. “Wait!  Mom, I forgot a water bottle!”  Michael called from the back seat.  I pulled the car back to the top of the driveway and he jumped out to go get his water bottle.  A few minutes later Michael came running out of the house.  He was almost to the car when I heard a scream.  I looked to see Michael on the concrete.  I got out of the car and sat down next to him.  There were scrapes on both his knees, hands, and elbows.  “Michael, you’ll be okay.” I told him as I hugged him.  I went inside and found his favorite superman band-aids.  I grabbed one for his left knee and elbow.  The other scrapes weren’t bleeding anymore.  I washed up his cuts as quickly as possible and put on the two band-aids.  “You’re a tough little seven year old.”  I told him as I helped him into the car. 

Again I began down the driveway.  When we were on the road Michael began with the question he always asked before every baseball game he had, “Mom, is Dad going to be at the game today?”  And, of course, I hated this question.  I wished that I could make his father come.  He never came to anything for Michael.  He claimed he was busy with work, but when we were married, that never seemed to be the case.  He would sit on the couch and watch the television at home.  I’m sure that he worked hard when he was at his job, but he always went and came home at the same time, never anything special going on that kept him late.  After our divorce three years ago, he didn’t really want to be around Michael or me, but I made him, for Michael’s sake.  Every other Saturday we went somewhere with him; whether it be the zoo, one of our houses, or any other place.  When Michael was five, we started to get busier and now we only see him for Christmas and an occasional visit here or there.  He has been to one of Michael’s baseball games, and Michael could tell you everything about it; what positions he played that game, where each one of his hits went, everything.  Michael, being only seven doesn’t understand that I forced his father to be in his life.  He doesn’t realize that if it were his father’s choice, they would probably never see each other again.  Because of that one game, Michael has hope.  He has hope that while he is stepping up to the plate to hit, out of the corner of his eye, there his father will be, arms crossed, smiling right back at him.  But that can’t ever happen.  He would never do that.   But to respond to Michael’s question. I didn’t want to destroy his hope so I answered “I don’t know Michael.   Maybe.”  As I said this I tried to sound convincing, tried to keep his hope alive but I could tell that I had failed.  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, his face fell. 

After a couple of minutes a smile returned to Michael’s face.  “Are Drew and Uncle Brian going to be there?”  Michael asked, hopeful again.  “Probably.  Drew is on your team.”  I responded.  “Yay!” he cheered.

I was about to turn onto the highway.  Of course, I decided that I had to see his smile.  Little did I know that would be the last time.  There was screeching and squealing, joined by Michael’s now terrified scream.  I will never forget the moment that the other car actually hit us.  Michael’s terrified scream turned into one of agony and pain.  It was worse than the one earlier this morning.  I tried to turn and look at him, but the force of the car held me back.  The glass from the windshield shattered.  The other car had already hit and I could feel pain everywhere.  But there was only one thing that mattered I told myself as my head crashed into the steering wheel.  Then everything suddenly went black.

I woke up in an unfamiliar bed.  My left foot was wrapped up in what I assumed was a cast.  What had happened to me?  There were bandages everywhere.  I looked around the room as much as I could, not being able to move any body part.  I figured out nothing.  A woman walked into the room and called to someone behind her, “She’s awake.”  I slowly started to figure out that I was in a hospital bed.  It was hard to think about anything.  It hurt my head.  Then I remembered my last thought before I blacked out, there is only one thing that matters.  I finished the thought.  Him.  Michael is the only thing that matters.  “Michael?”  I asked.  Pain surged through my head.  I closed my eyes to try and comfort myself.  When I opened them again, my brother Brian was at my side along with some nurses who I ignored.  I looked at Brian, trying to communicate through my eyes.  He knew what I wanted.  He knew the answer to my question.  He knew Michael’s condition.

Brian looked at the nurses sorrowfully.  One of them nodded to him.  Brian began speaking to me, “Krista, this probably one of the hardest things I will ever have to tell you.”  He paused, sighed, and continued  “It’s about Michael.”  He took a deep breath.  “Krista,” he said touching my face lightly, “Michael died.”  Tears dripped down his face as he said the words.  “No.  This cannot be.  No!  No!” I screamed.  Tears streamed down my face like a river; a river of pain.  All of the pain I had felt before from my head was nothing compared to this.  I could hardly feel any pain in my head now.  All of my thoughts were clear.  All of my thoughts were about Michael.  I remembered the first time I’d held him.  His first steps, first day of preschool.  I remembered his cute little smile, with his tiny little perfect teeth.  I remembered everything.

“Mom, is Dad going to be at the game today?”   No.  Of course he wasn’t.  He probably doesn’t even know about Michael’s death.  I have to call him.  Sobbing, I asked Brian for the phone.  “Who are you going to call?”  He asked curiously.  “Liam.” I answered through my sobs.  “Krista, he’s already here.  Do you want me to send him in?”  I thought about it, but everything was just a big tangle in my head.  I gave in and just nodded.

“Kris?”  It was Liam.  He walked slowly and cautiously into the room and knelt at my side.  He wiped a few tears from my face and then said my name again, this time more sympathetically.  I looked at him and then the questions began to flow between my tears.  “Who called you?  Why are you here?  Don’t you know what happened?”  He lifted his hand to stop me.  “Yes, I know what happened.  I was waiting at the field for you and Michael when the hospital called Brian.  He told me briefly what had happened and we both came here as quickly as possible, leaving Drew with his mother at the game.”  He told me, a look of sorrow on his face.  “You asked me why I’m here.  I am here simply because I have to admit something to you.  I knew since the moment Brian told me about the crash and the severity of it  that I was never going to see Michael alive again.  I came here not for him, but for you.  I am here to tell you, you were right.  The last time I talked to you was at Christmas.  Before you left, Michael was sleeping on the couch.  You said to me ‘You know, you’re really going to regret not seeing him grow up.’  At the time I just shrugged my shoulders.  I didn’t completely understand your simple statement.  It was not until just a few days ago that everything seemed to click into place.  I realized that you were right, but I realized too late.”  He paused as a tear rolled down his cheek.  He shook his head as the tears kept coming.  “I’m sorry” He sobbed “for everything.” 

A Clean Well-Lighted Place Analysis

There are several similarities and differences between the story and the film adaption.  Some of the changes made were for the better, while others were for the worse.  I think that the setting should have been different inside the bar, but I liked how when the old man left he walked into darkness with only one light.

The setting in the film adaption was disappointing not only because it did not look like a bar, but also because the old man was inside instead of outside on the patio.  The old man was supposed to be sitting in the shadows, but since he was inside a very light place, there were hardly any shadow to put him in.

I liked the symbolism as the man walked into the dark with only one light to lead him.  It means that he has only one option and no others.  Also it could symbolize that he is going back to his life of depression, sadness and loss.

Killing a Mockingbird

“It’s a sin to kill a mockingbird”(90).  But why?  Simply because “mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy.  They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us"(90).  In the book To Kill a Mockingbird, there was a lot of symbolism involving birds, especially that of mockingbirds, bluejays and finches.

                Mockingbirds symbolize innocence.  Tom Robinson is clearly an example of a mockingbird.  He was innocent but accused.  “[He] was a dead man the moment Mayella opened her mouth” (247).  He did nothing wrong.  He was a mockingbird.  Another example of a mockingbird is Boo Radley.  Everyone accused him of doing different things.  If something was different in the neighborhood, the cause was Boo.  Also, his name was Arthur Radley, but everyone called him Boo.  He obviously scared them, but they didn’t know him.  They didn’t know the mockingbird he was.

                Bluejays symbolize strength.  The same strength that Mr. Ewell had over Tom Robinson.  The same strength that the town had over Boo Radley.  It was an unfair strength though.  Just because of the color of his skin, Mr. Ewell was more powerful than Tom Robinson.  For Boo, he was outnumbered.  Atticus even said “Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ‘em….”(90).  Atticus was basically saying, if you can get them, get them, but it isn’t going to be easy.  When you compare both Tom Robinson and Boo Radley’s situations to that, it all makes sense.  It wasn’t going to be easy to go against strength with innocence.

                A finch symbolizes liberty.  Atticus was a true Finch.  He was a Finch because of his family, but that meant much more.  Atticus stood for liberty.  That’s why he defended Tom Robinson.  But finches are often caged, as pets, waiting for their owner to demand them wherever they needed to be, with no voice in the matter.  Atticus had to shoot the dog.  Atticus had to defend Tom Robinson.  Atticus had no choice.  It may not have been what he wanted but since he is a Finch, in more than one way, he obeyed his owner.

                Life was not fair for anyone but the bluejay.  It seemed impossible for innocence and liberty to overcome strength; but they did; it was possible.  No matter what the world thought of them they realized their place.  They realized that they weren’t going to surrender.  They realized that there would be no more sin.  There would be no more killing mockingbirds.

Lessons Learned

Author's Note: This is a piece reflecting on my experience with having a doughnut sale.  It shows my struggles.  It shows my successes.  If you are ever planning a fundraiser, I suggest reading this so that you can see what I struggled with, and make sure that you don't.
Some people think that selling doughnuts to a group of hungry middle school kids wouldn’t be very hard. I didn’t think it would be that hard either until I started putting it all together. What some people think would be very easy, could also be complex.

First of all, I had to make a plan. After I figured out that I was going to sell doughnuts to raise money for the MACC Fund, I started. My mom and I called Pick N Save to see what deals we could get on the doughnuts. We were told that we could get doughnuts for $0.25 a piece. Next I had to get permission. I wrote a proposal and found it pretty easy to convince Mr. Daul to let me do this project since he liked the idea before I showed him my proposal. I filled out the necessary forms, picked the dates, and we were on our way.

Before long, the day came to order the doughnuts. We had to pick the number of doughnuts to buy. We decided to sell 8 dozen a day. The order was being placed and the people at Pick N Save told us that we should have given them at least a 24 hour notice, but still agreed to fill our order. Lesson learned: make sure you give people enough time to do the things you ask them to do. When we came to pick up the doughnuts on the first day, we were all ready. I had tried to make this fundraiser fool proof so that everything would go as planned; but that is next to impossible. We were given the doughnuts and realized we were being charged full price for them. We talked with the bakery and they said that we would just have to buy the doughnuts at full price and call later in the day when store manager was there and we could talk to her about it. Unfortunately, if we would have known who we had talked to on the phone about the doughnuts, the person that said we could get them for $0.25, we might have had more of a chance of getting the doughnuts for that price. Lesson learned: always get the name of the person you are talking to.

We went to school with the doughnuts, and my mom figured out the pricing later in the day. I soon found out that 8 dozen doughnuts was not enough. Lesson learned: 8 dozen doughnuts is not nearly enough for middle school kids who like doughnuts, A LOT! I emailed my mom and had her order more doughnuts for the next day. Since, again, we didn’t order more with a 24 hour notice, not all of the doughnuts were ready the next morning. Since we had to get to school because the sale was starting soon, my mom and I took 12 dozen of the doughnuts that were done and brought them. She then went back to Pick N Save to get the other 6 dozen. From then to the time we waited for my mom to come back was probably some of the most chaotic time of my life. People just kept coming! From the moment I opened the first box to the moment the first 12 dozen were gone, there was no down time. But, as we sold the doughnuts, I realized that we still might not have enough. Unfortunately, I was right. Lesson learned: 18 dozen doughnuts isn’t enough either.

All in all, the fundraiser was a success. We raised $302.20 for the MACC Fund because of generous people. This money will hopefully help find a cure to childhood cancer and related blood diseases. Lesson learned: some things are not as easy as they seem.

The Dream of Perfection

When we are young, we create an image in our head of the person we want to be.  In our mind, this person is perfect.  But as we grow older, the image changes.  For example, a 5-year-old girl.  At that age, she wants to get older, maybe have really long curly hair, and wishes she could be more independent.  They think that when you are older, it is better.  If you were to tell this to a 30-year-old, they would probably disagree.  They, on the other hand, would say that being younger is better.  But, despite the want to be older or younger, we can’t change time.  We can’t turn back the clock, nor can we spin it forward faster.

As we move through life, we realize that what we wanted before was not what we thought it would be.  We didn’t understand that even though you’re older and you may not have someone taking your favorite toy away anymore, there are other, more difficult problems to deal with.  Children are born naïve to everything.   Trying to preserve their innocence, they are shown none of the struggles of an adult.  They do not know what it is like to be in debt.  They do not know what it is like to lose your job.  They do not know what it is like to have everything they know slip right through their grasp.  They see a perfect life.  Their own struggles are usually simple, but to them, it is the end of the world.  When they see people whose lives seem easier than anything they’ve ever done, they want to live like that.  Until they actually experience what life is like as an adult, they can never understand that no life is perfect, no matter what.  Every life has perfect moments, but in every life not all the moments are flawless.

Acceptance is everything.  We have to accept the person we were.  We have to accept the person we are.  We have to accept the person we will become.  Understanding that the image in our of the person we want to be might not be what is best.  No one is perfect, but everyone is unique, which makes them closer to perfect.
Life is not flawless; we have to learn to see it perfectly.  We have to learn to look past the bad and look at the good.  We have to learn to accept ourselves.  We have to learn to accept everything.  Then, and only then, will life seem perfect.  The trouble with all of this is the image in our head.   See the perfect person, and if it doesn’t match us, we consider ourselves imperfect.  Remember, there is no way to change time, we have to live with it the way it is.  Although perfection may our dream, we could be better being imperfect. We are all perfect in our own way; we just have to take the time to find the perfection.

Forward She Went

Author's Note: I wrote this piece to demonstrate my understanding of word choice and context.  In this piece, the different elements of word choice I used, such as similes, symbolism, and onomatopoeia, helped create the mood of the piece by giving the reader something to relate to.  For example, not everyone has "looked death in the eye," however, there is a greater number of people who have at one point in their life been afraid or interested in monsters.  It makes the piece easier to relate to.  Another example is when I used the onomatopoeia "Thump. Thump."  There are a lot of places that people could have heard that sound, but if you read my piece you will find out that in this "thump" is referring to the sound feet make as they walk clumsily in silence.  Hope you enjoy!

The dark alley slowly started to get smaller and smaller.  What little light remained, was dissolving faster than she could move.   She walked, forward, not a doubt in her mind.  But her mind was wrong.  Her mind had not a sliver of sense.  She continued, forward.  Down the alley she went.  One step at a time.  Thump. Thump.  Her feet carried her into the darkness.  She knew not where she was going, but had faith.  She had faith that things would be better this way,  everything would hurt less this way.  A cool, brisk wind tried fiercely to hold her back, but she had to keep going, forward.  She walked until death was looking her in the eyes like the monster it was; but she was not afraid.  She walked until she could see nothing.  She walked until she could hear nothing but her own two feet and the beating of her heart.  Then, she stopped.  She stopped moving forward.  She stood still for what seemed longer than an eternity.  She stood until she saw a glimpse of light. It began to grow.  Bigger and bigger, faster and faster it came. One step, one step she took forward.  One step forward into the light. 

To Stop Time

Time. Rushing. Faster.

It is a becoming a blur.

A blur of the past.  A blur of the present.  A blur of the future.

Could nothing in the world slow this catastrophe?  Could nothing stop it?

There is but one thing.

One thing that can stop it.

The end.

The end of everything.  The end of life.  The end of time.

Angel

She laid there.  Her face was as blank as I wished the bill was.  I hadn’t seen her smile since the day her father died.  To make things worse, Molly had leukemia. My Molly, how could this happen?  She had been battling this disease for 3 years now, almost half of her life.  It hurts me so much to see such a young girl suffer. She is only seven; this is too much for her.  I also have another daughter, Maya.  She is 4 years old and looks up to Molly more than the stars in the sky.  But I guess it makes sense.  I have three jobs to try and pay off all of the medical bills and still support my two beautiful daughters so I am not always there for them; especially at this time of year.  It’s getting closer and closer to Christmas, so I have to let Molly and Maya down yet again; we can’t afford presents.

“Mommy, Ms. Anne said there’s only two more days ‘til Christmas!”  Maya burst into the room, followed my sister, Christine.  I tried to force a smile onto my face, but I could not manage to; instead, I choked back tears.  Then Maya ran to the window and  shouted “Mommy!  IT’S SNOWING!”  I looked at Molly whose face had suddenly filled with color and emotion.  “Mom, can we go play in the snow?”  Molly asked.  It was the first thing she had said in days and it excited me until I realized, she couldn’t.  “Maybe later girls,” I replied trying to sound hopeful.  Molly’s smile disappeared and the color in her face retreated once again. 

I left the room for a moment leaving the girls with Christine.  I had to find the doctor.  I franticly made a loop around this wing of the hospital.  When I returned, I found him just about to walk into Molly’s room.  “Wait!” I yelled.  The doctor turned around to face me.  “Just the person I needed to talk to.” He  said trying to maintain a smile on his face.  We walked away from Molly’s room and the doctor took me to his personal office.  I had only been in here once before; the day we found out that Molly had leukemia.  I tried to stop myself from panicking, but I couldn’t.  The doctor calmed me down and began to speak gently to me, stating the facts first.  “I know that having a child sick is every parent’s nightmare.  I have children too, and if anything ever happened to them, I don’t know what would become of me.  We both also know what an amazing child Molly is; she has been battling this disease for 3 years now.”  I started to break down again but the doctor stopped me and continued talking.  “Listen to me, this has not been an easy three years for you or the rest of your family and I understand that.  There is something very important you need to know.”  I could feel my heart pounding, my throat swelling.  “Molly’s cancer has spread.  We will do the best we can to try and help her, but her only chance of living through this; is a miracle.

I broke down completely.  I cried until there was no water left in my body.  The doctor tried to comfort me but it was no use.  He had just told me that my daughter was probably going to die!  How was I going to live happily for the rest of my life with only half of my family?  Once I had brought myself together a little bit more, I remembered why I wanted to talk to him.  I slowly began “Um, Molly wants play in the snow.”  A smile spread across his face when I said this.  “She already is.” He replied.  “What, where?” I asked as excitement began to grow inside of me.  He lead me into Molly’s room and directed my view out the window.  Sure enough, Molly and Maya were playing in the snow in front of the hospital.  “Thank you”  were the words I whispered before grabbing my coat and running to my girls. 

When I came outside, I saw that there was a nurse sitting by Christine, making sure that everything went well; it certainly was going well.  Both Molly and Maya were smiling and laughing as they laid in the snow moving their arms and legs back and forth to create snow angels.  “Mommy, look what Molly taught me how to do!” Maya said running towards me and pointing at her snow angel.  I remember when Molly was her age; she was happy, for the most part, until she was diagnosed.  I felt my tears coming.  I forced myself to smile at Maya.  Then I walked over to Christine, gave her arm a little tug, and asked the nurse to watch the girls for a moment.  I pulled Christine into the hospital and we stood in the middle of the lobby.  Christine looked at me with question, but didn’t say a word. I looked her in the eye, with my own eyes starting to form tears.  “She’s going to die.” I barely got the words out before I broke down.  There was no way to calm me down now.  Christine had tears rolling down her face too, but I could tell she was trying to stay strong, for me.  She embraced me as I sobbed, trying to comfort me.  But I was past the point of comfort.  I was past the point of truth.  I was past the point of everything.

                About an hour later, Christine came back into the hospital with the girls.  I had calmed myself down enough so that Molly and Maya wouldn’t be concerned.  I slowly stood up from the chair I had been seated in.  It seemed to take more effort than usual.  As we walked Molly back to her room, the girls couldn’t stop talking about their outdoor adventures.  It made me glad to know that they were happy.  I don’t think I have seen such a smile on Molly’s face since before she was diagnosed.  We sat in Molly’s room drinking cafeteria hot chocolate.  Molly’s, of course had been made special for her, but she didn’t seem to mind.  Molly was happy and that’s all that mattered.

                Later that night after Molly went to bed and Maya had gone home with Christine, I found myself kneeling next to Molly’s bed.  I observed her features: dirty blonde hair, soft pale face, light pink lips; she was beautiful.  I rested my elbows on the edge of her bed and began to pray.

“God, I know that your plan is always best.  I know that you are always right.  You are amazing.  You have given me my life and the lives of my daughters and I thank you for that.  I guess I just come away with one question though.  Why would you want to take Molly away from me so soon?  She is too young.  She is too young.  She is too young….” I began to cry again.  I leaned forward into my hands.  “Why her?”  I cried for at least 5 minutes before a nurse came in and Molly looked up into my eyes.  “Mom, why are you crying?”  I didn’t have a chance to answer her before the nurse began to start her check-up.  “How are you Miss Molly?”  “I’m very good.”  Molly replied.  But she didn’t sound very good.  She sounded sad.  All I wanted was for her to be happy, but I couldn’t even do that.  I tried to hold back more tears as the doctor did the check-up.  They were too strong.  They defeated me.  The tears poured down my face as I watched her sit there.  I was sitting in a chair in the corner and I hoped that Molly wouldn’t see me crying, but with my luck, of course she did.  She didn’t say anything until after the doctor had left.  “Mom, before the doctor started talking, I asked you a question!”  “What was your question Molly?” I asked hoping she would think of a new one.  “Why are you crying?”  “I’m not crying.” I said quickly wiping the tears from my eyes.  “Mom, just tell me why.”  “Molly, I’m crying because I love you.”  “Well if you love me, isn’t that happy, not sad?”  “I love you so when I see you laying there in that bed, I feel helpless, there is nothing I can do to make you better, and I hate that, Molly.  I just wanted you to have the best childhood, but now you have had more treatments and surgeries than I have had.  And Molly, I’m crying because I love you.”

After Molly fell asleep, I had to leave.  I had to go shopping for Christmas.  This year I had $10 to spend on each girl.  That is a double of what I had last year to spend.  It was December 24^th and that meant Christmas was tomorrow.  I had to pick out things for the girls quickly so that I could get back to Molly.  Maybe this year I could get them each a shirt instead of the mittens they had to settle for last year.  I quickly decided on matching shirts that had the word angel printed across the front with sparkly wing on either side of the word.  I brought them back to the hospital and wrapped them in some extra newspaper. I put them under the white board that had a Christmas tree drawn on it.

The next morning Maya came running into the room at 8:00AM.  Christine followed slowly behind her. “Maya was very excited.” Christine stated as she tried to force the corners of her mouth into a smile, but she really hadn’t slept much and it was very obvious. Maya had made her way over to Molly’s bedside saying “Molly, look at the presents mommy got us!  I guess Santa forgot about us again this year too, but it’s ok.  Merry Christmas Molly!” Then a nurse came in to help Molly out of bed and Maya ran over to me and gently asked, “Mommy, can me and Molly open our presents now?”  “As soon as Molly is ready, sweetie.” I told her as I looked into her bright, beautiful, lively eyes.  They held excitement.  They held happiness.  They held innocence.

Molly was seated on her bed.  Her little feet were dangling off the side of the bed.  Maya brought both of the presents over.  She handed Molly her present and jumped up next to Molly.  Molly looked at me, then back at Maya and told her “On the count of three.  One..” “Two” Maya counted eagerly. “Three” They screamed together and then they tore off the newspaper to reveal the shirts.  “I love it, Mommy!” Maya exclaimed as she ran over to give me a hug.  As I hugged Maya, I saw that Molly was still sitting on the bed.  Her shoulders were slouched and she clutched the shirt in her right hand.  I released Maya, walked over and sat down next to Molly.  “What’s wrong sweetie?”  I asked her.  “Mom it’s not fair.”  “I know Molly.  I try my best to get you girls something you’ll love but I-”  Molly cut me off, “No Mom.  It’s not that I don’t like the present, it’s just that I can’t wear it.”  “Now why wouldn’t you be able to wear it Molly?” I asked, taking the shirt from her hand and popping it over her head, right on top of her hospital gown.  Molly smiled.  “Thanks mom.”  I gave her a hug and held on tight, until I heard Maya behind me “Time to sing Christmas songs!!”  “Slow down Maya.  We have to eat breakfast first.”  I told her.  She began to giggle. Then her giggle turned into a laugh.  By then, Molly and Christine had started to laugh.  I found myself smiling.  I hadn’t smiled a real smile in at least 3 years.  It felt good for a moment, but it all melted away when the nurse walked into the room.  She brought me back to reality.  She woke me up from my dream.

Our relatives came that morning and all had a great time with the girls.  I got a chance to relax a little.  The girls were excited because they only got to see them every three years, since they lived on the other side of the country.  For Maya, this is the first time she would be old enough to remember anything.  As the day went by relatives came in and out of the room, one after the other.  By 5:00PM, they were gone.  Every last one.  Even Maya and Christine had gone home.  Once again, it was just Molly and me for dinner. 

As we ate, like usual, we talked.  But today was different.  Molly asked “What’s heaven like?”  “I don’t know Molly.  I’ve never been there.”  “Will I go to heaven?”  “You would have to ask God that.  Only He knows.”  Molly put down her fork, got out of her bed and knelt next to it.  I watched her pray.  I could almost see God caressing her hair.  As she prayed, I began to cry.  It was a beautiful moment.  Molly climbed back into her bed.  She folded her hands again, and continued praying.  After a few more minutes of praying Molly called for me.  I walked over to her bed and smiled down at her, tears still pouring down my face. She was still wearing her new shirt over the top of her hospital gown. “I love you mommy.”  “I love you too, Molly.” And then she was gone. 

The nurse came in seconds later to find me crying over the precious body.  She quickly came to my side to comfort me.  But nothing could comfort me.  Nothing could heal this wound.  Nothing could bring back Molly.  I looked up for a moment and glanced around the room.  There was everything but her.  There was here favorite teddy bear on the bed.  There was pictures of our family hanging on the board.  There was the projects Molly made when she was bored.  There was everything but Molly.

I spent the rest of the night right next to Molly, praying.  Praying for Maya. Praying for Molly.  Praying for everyone.  At about 4:30AM I started to sort through Molly’s things.  Almost everything she owned was at the hospital with her.  With every stuffed animal, necklace, sock, or other miscellaneous  things I found, I held it for a moment; I absorbed every last memory  out of it.  By the time that Maya came home in the afternoon, I had the entire room cleaned out.  As I was looking at the empty room, I heard Maya. “Mommy?” I ran to her and hugged her.  I held her tight.  When I let go, she looked confused.  Then I realized that Maya didn’t know about Molly yet.  I took her by the shoulders as I crouched in front of her.  “Maya, there is something I need to tell you.”  “Mommy, what happened to Molly’s room?”  She tried to push her way into the room but I held her back even though I was crying again.  “Maya, listen to me sweetie.  Molly isn’t here anymore.”  I had to stop because of my tears.  “Is she all better?” Maya asked sounding very excited.  “No, Maya.”  I struggled to get the words out.  “Where did Molly go then, mommy?”  “Heaven.  Molly went to heaven.”  I broke down after that last sentence.  I hugged Maya and she hugged me back.  After a couple of minutes Maya asked “When is she coming back?”  I told her, still sobbing “She is never coming back, Maya.  Molly died.”  Maya began to realize what was happening even though she could not comprehend the situation entirely.  Maya began to cry.  I hugged her again.  Maya pushed away and walked into the room.  She examined everything, imagining it the way it used to be.  Then she noticed that there was still something of Molly’s in the room.  She reached up onto the bed and grabbed Molly’s new shirt.

~*~

I walked slowly into the church, holding Maya’s hand.  We went to the front where Molly laid peacefully in her casket.  A pink flower rested perfectly in her beautiful dirty blonde hair.  She wore a long sparkly pink dress that went past her feet.  She looked like a princess; my princess.  I knelt before her, Maya copying my every movement.  I folded my hands and prayed silently.  Dear God, Thank you for the time you gave me with Molly.  She was the light of my world.  Her face shining like the sun.  Every time she smiled, it made the sun and the stars look dull.  She was my everything.  I trust that you will take good care of her in heaven.  I love her so much.  Tears flooded my eyes once again.  “I love her so much.” I repeated softly.  “Me too.” Maya said, mimicking my tone.  We stood up and I began to walk away.  “Wait! Mommy!”  I heard Maya say from behind me.  I turned around and walked back over to wear she was.  She put her little backpack down on the ground and started looking through it.  A few seconds later, she pulled out a shirt.  It was Molly’s shirt.  Maya climbed up by the casket and laid the shirt on top of Molly.  I went to help her.  We made sure that it looked perfect and then backed away to admire our work.  I stroked Molly’s hair.  “Mommy, now Molly is a real angel.”  Maya told me happily.  Hearing her words put me to tears again.  “Yes Maya.  Now Molly is a real angel.”

Death Can't Speak

 “War may sometimes be a necessary evil.  But no matter how necessary, it is always evil, never good.  We will not learn to live together in peace by killing each other’s children.” -Jimmy Carter.  This quote holds true in the book My Brother Sam is Dead.  This book is about a family who is separated by two things; war and death.  The story is told from the point of view of boy named Tim.  Tim has always looked up to his older brother, Sam, but now Sam has gone off to fight in the war.  Now Tim is left at home with his mother and father to run their family business.

There has to be a reason why the author chose to write this book from Tim’s point of view.  It obviously wasn’t because Tim had the most action packed life, or that Tim completely understood the effects of war and wanted to stop it. No, it was because of his innocence.  Tim had never seen a war.  Tim had never been in a war.  Tim didn’t know very much about war.  This book was written for people from the ages of about 10-16.  Most of these people have the same feelings and worries about war that Tim had, which made it easier for them to connect to the book.  They might not know which side to be on for the war either.  Even to the end of the book, Tim really hadn’t picked a side.  Another reason the author might have chosen to tell the story through Tim is because he stayed alive for the entire book whereas Sam and his father did not.    

                 What if the story was told from Sam’s point of view?  The story would be very different.  One of the main differences would be that instead of hearing all about what is happening outside of the war at Sam and Tim’s home, you would get all the action of war.  You would hear about how he had to sit with a dying soldier for six hours, just waiting for him to die.  You would hear about where the army was going.  You would hear about all the struggles that Sam faced throughout the war.  But the author couldn’t write the story from Sam’s point of view because in the end, he dies.  The author couldn’t explain what it felt like to die, since he himself obviously hasn’t died.

                Tim’s point of view was the best choice for this book. This was a war that he experienced from inside his home.  He didn’t go very far without anyone with him for fear of the war.  Tim explained the war and what it meant to him clearly.  Tim couldn't decide on whether war was a necessary evil or not, but no matter what, war is not good.  War causes pain.  War causes suffering.  War causes death.  We can not learn to live in peace in a world that is filled with war.

Destroyed

  The sun began to drift slowly into view, waiting to meet the untouched bed of snow.  The sun finally peeked over the horizon, almost bursting with joy, impatiently waiting to see its old friend again.  The beautiful sight he was expecting to see had vanished, replaced only with a sight as sorrowing as death.

I destroyed it.

I destroyed the beauty.

I destroyed the perfection.

The guilt rushed through me.

Destroyed.  

The sun's rays burned me.  

Destroyed.  

The cold snow froze me. It destroyed me.  

I was ruined

                 like the snow on the ground.