1st from Anzaldua
Not the Time
It was hot. In fact, it was the hottest summer day since 1971 according to the over-enthusiastic weather reporters. They warned everyone to stay inside with fans and air conditioners. I hadn’t listened.
Around 9am I left my house in the only thing he left me and my mother a few years ago—his 1990, dark blue Buick. By this time, the AC in the car had stopped working. We couldn’t afford to fix it, so my mother and I just dealt with it.
She didn’t want me to visit my father, but I felt I had to. It had been 7 years since I saw him, and now he had a son—my only sibling. He would be about 7 now. I turned around and looked at the basketball I had wrapped for him, my little brother. I felt like I had to make up for lost time. Nothing was his fault—simply the product of selfish choices.
I continued driving as it got hotter and hotter inside the car. At this point, it felt as if my car was flowing down a lava of highway. I had done my makeup as best I could, but that would be melted away by the time I made to the front door. I looked quickly in the rearview mirror. Black streaks were trickling down from under my eyes, and the light green shadow was stuck in the creases. Oh well.
Three hour later, I made it to the address where my father now lived. It was the most beautiful house I had ever seen. I saw a little boy out front who looked like my dad’s baby pictures. I looked across the perfectly manicured luscious-green lawn. There were a couple sprinklers going off, rhythmically hitting the little boy’s bikes, power-wheels, baseball bats, Nerf guns, and three basketballs strewn carelessly across the lawn. I saw the front door start to open and the top of man’s head appear.
I hit the gas pedal as hard as I could and drove back home.
2nd from tweets-came from tweet: "looks like i'm visiting my old house this weekend #twitterive so much of me is still there..." Memories from my old house inspired this...story, or train of thought I should say.
Goodness and Light
Remember when I would make all your friends play Candy Land with me as soon as they walked through the front door before they could go play video games with you? How I loved being the annoying little sister.
Remember when you got the chicken pox and I brought you juice and snacks the whole time you were sick? A couple days later, I woke up with red dots on my face.
Remember when you got in a fight with Jack in your bedroom? I wonder sometimes if that whole is still in the wall.
Remember that time we missed the bus and our neighbor had to take us to school? She was so sweet, always looking out for us, always looking out for you.
Remember when you ran away a couple hours before your 8th grade graduation? Mom was making you wear a tie, and you didn’t like it. We barely made it on time to the ceremony.
Remember your favorite country song? We’d sing it together on our way to the high school that you hated, even though everyone there adored you—maybe for the wrong reasons, but adored nonetheless.
Remember when you believed in the God that continues to protect you now? I do. You curse His name, yet He is faithful. As you fight for us there, I cry for you here. You have let the blackness of war destroy your soul, seep into every crevice of your hard, heavy heart, destroying every memory of goodness and light. Goodness and Light.
Not the Time
It was hot. In fact, it was the hottest summer day since 1971 according to the over-enthusiastic weather reporters. They warned everyone to stay inside with fans and air conditioners. I hadn’t listened.
Around 9am I left my house in the only thing he left me and my mother a few years ago—his 1990, dark blue Buick. By this time, the AC in the car had stopped working. We couldn’t afford to fix it, so my mother and I just dealt with it.
She didn’t want me to visit my father, but I felt I had to. It had been 7 years since I saw him, and now he had a son—my only sibling. He would be about 7 now. I turned around and looked at the basketball I had wrapped for him, my little brother. I felt like I had to make up for lost time. Nothing was his fault—simply the product of selfish choices.
I continued driving as it got hotter and hotter inside the car. At this point, it felt as if my car was flowing down a lava of highway. I had done my makeup as best I could, but that would be melted away by the time I made to the front door. I looked quickly in the rearview mirror. Black streaks were trickling down from under my eyes, and the light green shadow was stuck in the creases. Oh well.
Three hour later, I made it to the address where my father now lived. It was the most beautiful house I had ever seen. I saw a little boy out front who looked like my dad’s baby pictures. I looked across the perfectly manicured luscious-green lawn. There were a couple sprinklers going off, rhythmically hitting the little boy’s bikes, power-wheels, baseball bats, Nerf guns, and three basketballs strewn carelessly across the lawn. I saw the front door start to open and the top of man’s head appear.
I hit the gas pedal as hard as I could and drove back home.
2nd from tweets-came from tweet: "looks like i'm visiting my old house this weekend #twitterive so much of me is still there..." Memories from my old house inspired this...story, or train of thought I should say.
Goodness and Light
Remember when I would make all your friends play Candy Land with me as soon as they walked through the front door before they could go play video games with you? How I loved being the annoying little sister.
Remember when you got the chicken pox and I brought you juice and snacks the whole time you were sick? A couple days later, I woke up with red dots on my face.
Remember when you got in a fight with Jack in your bedroom? I wonder sometimes if that whole is still in the wall.
Remember that time we missed the bus and our neighbor had to take us to school? She was so sweet, always looking out for us, always looking out for you.
Remember when you ran away a couple hours before your 8th grade graduation? Mom was making you wear a tie, and you didn’t like it. We barely made it on time to the ceremony.
Remember your favorite country song? We’d sing it together on our way to the high school that you hated, even though everyone there adored you—maybe for the wrong reasons, but adored nonetheless.
Remember when you believed in the God that continues to protect you now? I do. You curse His name, yet He is faithful. As you fight for us there, I cry for you here. You have let the blackness of war destroy your soul, seep into every crevice of your hard, heavy heart, destroying every memory of goodness and light. Goodness and Light.
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