Sarah’s Sanctuary

    Free Puddles

Absent Strength

Sail Boats

Lost Soil

Red barns with white shutters

Pockets full of Rain

The vase of hope

Fallen petals

  Messages from a sunflower

By Sarah Guinon

Jade, an emerald jewel that glows in the sun, a gorgeous color too delicate to be arrayed in a crayon box but arrayed in an artist’s palette, it’s a small motherly bakery in Santa Barbra, a small shade in the ocean, a color in the sky, all wonderful pleasant things but also the name of a young helpless girl, age 8 fighting against the battle of her own life.

Free Puddles              

Spinning. Faster… faster… faster… and on and on. Away from the ground, the earth, and life. The back of my head comforts the soft grass beneath. My strawberry-blonde curls dangle from the roots and then my emerald blue eyes lock onto the faded sun which hides behind the blanket of the gray clouds as it tickles my heart. I have bright cherry lips and no gloss or lippy can contain the color. I lightly shut my white eyelids to keep the sun from creeping into my soul and bring out all my secrets. I hear a nose it’s a dropping of water of some sort. Rain begins to pelt my checks. I don’t run away from the sensation of rain like others, or fight it and dislike it. I believe that it is a beautiful message from the earth carried through a form of art to tell us what needs to be told. There’s something about it that makes you want to cry and laugh at the same time felling sorry for something, but then it makes you remember exactly what to be proud of and what pleasures are still left even in the harshest tragedies. Rain has a power and withholding that no other thing can even create. I keep laying on the grass , waiting until puddles form around me and I begin to float  , but before  any near penny size puddles come I hear the familiarity of a voice I know by heart. My own mom. She yells to me to get inside and I flee from the serenity of my life’s playground and run toward the yellow painted door withholding my house. Like the beating of the wind, my hair tosses and turns around the egg shape known had my very own head, but only the wind will pertain the elegancy to lift away everything as my hair can only lift away filthy dirt and morning frizz. As I run faster toward the door, felling this elegancy makes a row of pearl white teeth glow like a candle from each one of my lopsided freckled ears. Every thought, felling, spoken word will carry away with the beating against our voices and our minds in the wind. ”nothing remains the same for long” , is one of my many theory’s  Being an eight year old , I love to create my own theory’s.  It’s my own way to discover and understand the world as it is. Another major philosophy of mine that I only put together in words today but understood forever,  is that “once you open yourself to a sunflower no demons can hurt you, no virtues pertain you, and you become free”. But nothing is free forever, there will always be the fact of life and the fact of death and each and every one of us must suffer both at a point in life.

My mom restricts me away from the outside for the rest of the day, for some reason it seems as if she is afraid of gods silent rain tears. Sometimes I think that maybe mom thinks of them as another version of her own incessant tears. So I wander off on to my favorite spotlight of the house. The sun spot, it lays within the nestled side of our hose at a dorm window seat outside the kitchen. You may think that it is just a window seat and side table, but it’s the details and emotions inside it that keeps you coming back. The seat has a buttered yellow pad with a lime blanket laced with tiny roses embedded in the edges. The blanket drapes over the pad like a queens broach proudly sits upon her shoulders. The pad is checkered with small white squares and continuous lilies along the lines. There are three small pillows upon the pad and blanket. Each one is different and comes from a different life and place. The smallest one has a dog on it with yellow fur and an orange collar he is smiling ear to ear; he is sitting in some sort of kitchen in a western house. The second one is a lopsided shape because it was my mom’s first quilting project as then she was just learning .It has many basic squares of random patterns and textures of wildlife. The last one is most comfortable and is my favorite. It is a picture of a tree, but not just any tree a Japanese willow tree and the colors are clearer than anything. Underneath the tree there sits a small boy with a straw hat covered over his face he is sitting underneath the tree reading an old worn out book. The sky looks silent and the wind looks peaceful and he sits there waiting, but waiting for what exactly? I have wondered al this time. There are two curtains above the sunspot but no one dares to ever close them away from the outside world. No one dares to attempt to shut out the outside life of the sunspot.  The small stand next to the seat is covered in a white thin cloth and on top is a large crystal glass vase. It is beautiful and elaborate with spirals and cuts at the core of it. Inside lays 8 crested sunflowers cut crisply and cleanly by my dad to put into the vase they are truly the heart of the picture. Outside the window of the sunspot is all the world in one piece, there are the willows, woods, oceans, my field all and everything at one spot. I nestle myself down onto the seat for hours staring into the soul of earth.

It is hard to turn away from the world beyond my window. If you’re not careful it takes you in and you can’t let yourself out for hours. But sadly my dad tells me that I need get up and do something today so that I could actually go to bed felling accomplished of my day, so I roll my eyes and walk into the kitchen to balance a spoon on my nose for the next hour until dark, just to make him happy. But it doesn’t really work. After about five minutes He tells me to go to bed, but Instead I climb into my pajamas and lie in bed to rest and read until much longer into the dusky night. I wonder about my dreams and fairytales.

Absent Strength

24, 2400: the speed per minute the earth spins constantly and continuously.  But what would happen if the earth halted and wherever we were placed changes as we are thrown to another. Would everything we have accomplished right then and there be thrown with all forces? Would defeat fall within our hands? Would this feeling feel similar to the chill and demon of cancer upon my young body? The moment you find your most regrets in life is the moment you become aware that your life’s is ending and you are finished forever. Reincarnation is just a dream and fantasy so that we can believe we can have a second chance, but truthfully it’s an excuse to make the people like us with the demon inside feel as if we have someplace to go later and in the future. Some people describe cancer has a mountain of fears and that once you reach the top you just see the sky with no worries, only a simple, natural and small sudden death. To me, It’s more like a darkened everlasting tunnel, a trail with creatures jumping into your soul but you have no place to go, or something more than just the mountain but a incessantly long peak that you have traveled your whole life to get to and until you get there you realize the only item you receive for you victory is to be harshly pushed off and demolished into the dust that rests at the bottom among the dropping of others or the trash of the people you despise.

I’m in this horrible tornado of sad feelings and sorrow but there is no way I can let the world  in on my thoughts. I go around acting like I don’t care about these feeling anymore but truthfully I am hurting. The outside just can’t know it.

I find myself sitting under the tree thinking about my worries when I hear a familiar sound of a singing bell of a bike, the bike of DiDi Dumberger. DiDi has been my best friend since forever. She is a brave, wild, outgoing friend and nothing stands in her way. She has two neatly pinned braids that dangle from the sides of her ears like a Christmas tree decoration. Suddenly she jumps off her bike and greets me. We sit and giggle under the tree for hours. Soon enough after that we are climbing up various trees of all sizes with our shoes thrown abruptly at the end of the trunks.  

The window peeking inside my kitchen shines bright with the image of my parents comforting each other. My mom has a handkerchief in her hand and is swiftly batting away all her eyelashes , my dad has his hand on her shoulder trying to calm her tears.  DiDi looks into my eyes full of questions.

“Is your mom okay? Are you moving? Did your dad lose his job? Is your grandma okay? Is you’re…”

“no it’s nothing really” I cut in

“well… It looks like more than that J.”

“it’s nothing just I kind of have a cancer”

“CANCER!!”

“yep.”

“are you going to die”

I stare into her almond eyes and can see fear in a mist of a small pupil.

“yep.”

“this is big !I can’t lose you !Don’t you care”

“well…”

At that queue she storms off, grabs her pink glazed bike and storms toward the road.

“she is gone…” I tell myself “for long”

Pocketful of Rain

You can cry all night about a hole in your heart, but the hard part is sharing with your friend , and try to put in words what exactly supplies is needed to make the repairs, and to describe where the spot needs to be fixed. Most of the time friends are the main mechanics of all leaks. But sometimes in rare cases no tool can fix the hole. The water pores out and the tissues run low as we are stranded on a beach watching the tide of the tsunami tumble us to shreds and dissolve into the moisture of the sand. Nothing is more complex than the feeling of worry and aggravation that I can’t change anything to make it better or alter it to make it go away.

My legs dangled in the trees like a sunflower hangs off its stem. The pink lining of my nail polish glistens in the sun. I see a small pink bike in the distance a girl sits upon the seat with her braids falling out behind her. The girl turns the corner and whips by our house I squint my eyes only harder to realize it’s not DiDi she hasn’t come back and I know in my heart that I better stop hoping.

Sailboats

I still can’t forget the moment when the news came. I and my family had been sitting in the waiting room of my doctor’s office forever. I remember gazing forth to a cheap old painting of a lighthouse and a sailboat. The doctor came out of the white plated door and said something that will change my life forever.

“I have some bad news, I’m sorry”

“what, What’s wrong” my mother threw in

“it’s jade” She continues “she’s going to die”

“Die!!!! There must be something wrong!!she only eight!!” my dad not so lightly chimes in

“I’m so sorry she has a rare non hereditary cancer”

“can we do anything about it?” my mom avouches

“little but yes” the doctor states “but I shall warn the treatments are expensive”

My parents cry with each other in the corner. The whole time I just sat there and continued to gaze at the sailboat. The sailboat is a wonderful thing it’s so fascinating and remarkable. It’s the kind of  boat where both nature and you have control but it has to be split. A theory of mine is that people are much like sailboats for that reason and many others. The water and wind whips us around in all directions, but sometimes , we are capable to steer away. In my case today, I’m frozen on the edge and can’t move, nature is my map and it is leading me into a desert island.

Lost Soil

I wake up sleepier than ever if only I had knew that today would be this bad, I might of fell asleep among the blades of grass and flowers on the field, I might have stayed up all night praying for change, I could have even maybe bought a Buddha as an alternative to save my prayers. For all I know switching religion may have helped.  Anything that I would have done would never have changed the reality of the facts. I have a theory that everything in life changes every minute, like a bird’s wing as it gracefully, innocently flees in the sky and that we will never get to see the warning of the birds poop flying through the air until its way too late , someone was tragically hit. It’s just another challenge that we were given in this life. We have to be grateful for what we have and be happy that our challenges given to us are just a bump in the road, compared to others,  but we still have to keep traveling. As I always put it life is just one complex adventure and it’s not the destination that counts it’s all about the journey taken.

            The morning had been cold from the begging. I slip out of bed and feel my toes tense up in the frost of the air. The morning dew rests upon the blades of grass and the air grasps the flowers and the windows morning glass.  Whipping the sleep from my eyes, I slowly look onto the field. My jaw drops open and without thinking my feet speed ahead of my body and my arms follow. I make quick motions to carry myself outside. A bright red sign sits neatly in the corner of the grass it states:

    FOR SALE

Happy Hipdy Reality

Where you friends are never far away

“Great potential in this lot”

Call 244-2424

My stare narrows on the words, analyzing every letter, curve, dip and dive. The hippies state that this ”lot” has “potential” like it is a piece of nothing right now and can become an ugly piece of modernized mess. I lay beneath the sign for hours. I blink constantly and pinch myself to see if it goes away. It doesn’t. I can’t help but to think how long until we notice a “sold” sign upon the white wood of the lonesome pole.

I slump down onto the white wood kitchen table with a stubborn pout not hidden on my face. My mom sets a large plate of fresh picked strawberries down beneath my nose. Then she turns back to the counter to grab the crystal bowel of powdered sugar and the adobe one filled of warm honey. She only knows that this is my favorite snack, but I don’t want to be bribed into this pleasing devilish gesture. She sits at the end of the table watching me. Suddenly “BEEP” the washing machine sounds

 “I’ll be right back, J.I just need to get that” mom announces.

 As soon as she turns I devour as much strawberries into my mouth as possible, the sugar and honey following of course. Before I know it, she’s back and she can see I’ve followed into her bribe of evil. I tilt my head to glance into the mirror. My cheeks are full and puffy, and sugar is glazed all upon my face, neck, and forehead even. I can’t even mention all of the places the honey is, I have turned the color of the honey bear, all bees will be jealous of my new creature. My mom laughs and grabs a washcloth from the pantry door handle. Dipping it in warm water she proclaims

“We need to talk about this jade”

“I’b sorrby momb I’b kinbd ob hungry I haben’t eaben all day” I state with a barrel of strawberries in my mouth 

“That’s not it honey, everyone knows you set those thing upfront of jade blue and she becomes a mess” she giggles

“than waft ifb it , I don’bt wanna talk tube you mucbh longerb”

“its about the lot, we have it sell it j. We can treat you and you can be okay.

“ YOUb soldb my lifeb, there are othebr options! I hateb you for not tellinb meb ” I cry trying to push the leftover  food inside my throat to see if my heart will ache a little less, it doesn’t.

“honey, I am not selling your life I’m trying to save it, the money is for a treatment for you it’s our only hope, this is all we have left sweet heart”

“WHO CARES!?!” I yell for the first time without strawberries.

“I DO!! Well I sure do you are my life jade, and losing you is everything to me, I can’t watch you slip through my fingers without trying to grasp on longer. I can’t watch you fall away, I need you”

Within that line my father walks into the room, a stern face beneath a soft cover. He holds my mother tight and I see something I have never seen before,  I have to blink to see the truth. A sly tear dropping down his check. It is then that I realize they do care, but why can’t they find other options. Why can’t I take control and make things better.

Red barns with white shutters

Balloons float on the end of the mail box, cake lays onto the table a perfect last setting for a last birthday. The theme is sunflower and there are streamers hung in the air of red, black, yellow, orange, blue, purple, pink, and turquoise, all colors of the crayon box. Today’s meant for a day of pure fun with DiDi, that is if she ever shows up. We decide to spend the whole day eating strawberries and dancing in the field. A perfect birthday. Well technically its not “we” its more “me” because I have no hope for her coming.

      I’m standing outside the porch with a tall glass of iced tea beside my leg. I am sweaty and wet and my bangs stick to my forehead like a cold Henley stays with your skin. It’s a very hot afternoon with absolutely no rain in sight. I feel sad about the weather but then again, some changes are good. Also, I finally get to spend my endless summer hours gazing at the sun and diving into the pools and lakes of cool refreshing water.  My mom calls for me in the distance but I ignore them all. I’m the one dying after all what could she possibly need for goodness sake. The screen door squeaks open  behind me.

“Mom, what do you want…?” I grown

I turn my head around and grab the bundles of hair upon my shoulder to wrap them into a bun and nestle them on the other side. I see two small feet. They are shoeless and toenails painted blue with yellow flowers. I turn my glance up towards her face. DiDi Dumberger.

“hey Jady?” DiDi drawls

“ya?” I respond

“I’m going to miss you”

“really?” I giggle “how much”

“more than all the sunflowers in the garden”

“aw, that’s not that much, I’m going to miss you more than all the grasses in this field”

“well I’m going to miss you more than all the butterflies in the world”

“Not as much as al the stars in the sky”

For the next twenty minutes we ramble on many silly and bazaar things. I miss having DiDi and I’ll miss the way she brought life together even if it was falling and decaying away. She would make a dead flower blossom, a cut down tree grow taller, and a girl in complete sadness…, smile.

It was the best birthday party. No tears, no cries, and no frowns. Just happiness and sunflowers. DiDi and I talked for hours about our lives and what it was going to be like in the future. She talked about how she was going to miss me and how she promises to always care for my sanctuary and my flowers. We whispered secretes into each other’s ears in words that nobody knows. I can tell in the glisten in her eyes that she has hope. More hope than I or anyone else will ever have. DiDi always had believed in miracles.

Unexpectedly a rush rises up my chin into my head. I begin to lose my sight and with a slight whiff of the air I can no longer feel, touch, and see. I am a zombie in a world full of humans. Life’s battle field reaches my mind and I have just lost my sword. I am rushed to the hospital for intensive care. When it feels as if I have no longer my parents place me in the right place for me, home. I spend a total amount of 24 days at home, in the garden, and playing in the field before my time catches up and the other side at battle reaches my body.

The vase of hope

I realize now that living a life full of regrets and complaints is not the way to end it. Any and every moment could be your last and if you do have the chance to look back make sure you are willing to face yourself with what you did, felt, and acted upon your life at your last minutes.

Some people proclaim me as fearless but truly it’s not about whether you have enough fears to balance out the ocean or a simple glass of water,  it’s about the strength you gain to fight through the waterfall of your fears. An absence of fear won’t stop you from gaining your dreams and goals,  it’s the strength that lacks that will prevent you from life. I had many doubts on my life but my inner strength is what pushed through all doubts in the end. A fearless action would be to walk away from something that only hurts you , that you know will only hurt you more if you stay with it. Fearlessly letting go is one thing but your strength to help you makes it all possible. No matter what life or love throws at you have to never stop believing in all possibilities of life, or even pleasurable things like a snowy mountain feathered with new snow to lay in and spread your arms , a soft , warm duvet blanket  laid upon a home style couch with your favorite book beneath it, a small girl giggling while twirling reminding you of an image our your own younger self,  these atmospheres are always waiting but you have to pull your strength together to find them in the world in very unexpected corners and places. The simplest pleasures in life are always beneath our eyes but within our hearts our duty is to find them.

Many times I felt as if I had lost my strength,  but then I realized everyone has the strength. I was just doubtful of how much I had wasted not believing. I pull together all my fears and plow through them with all I had left within me.

Fallen Petals

The flowers at the funeral were a wild mixture of sunflowers. They had an elegant glow to them. Each petals grid looked textured and handmade to perfection. Jade would have wanted them to do so.

Jades finial message to the world was something that made a small grin force upon everyone’s faces. Her last moments brought together her whole life in one graceful piece. At her last moment she laid in the field noticing all the unique, special, and unquestionably beautiful things it had to offer. She gazed at something and  started to pick it up  between her fingers it was a sunflower, but this one seemed different so she decided to speak to it , She  told her what she thought about the field and how she believed how when you step onto the border of the garden , magic overcomes you . Life’s worries will fade but there is nothing that will stop the fact that we all have to step out of the garden at sometime we all have to take that dangerous jump back into reality and its features within life.

She passed on not afraid of the death she was withholding but the times and moments she was missing, the seconds away from her family, friends, love, laughs and sunflowers.

Free Puddles

Absent Strength

Sail Boats

Lost Soil

Red barns with  white shutters

The vase of hope

Fallen petals

    Messages from a sunflower

By Sarah Guinon  

Jade, a emerald jewel that glows in the sun, a gorgeous color too delicate to be arrayed in a crayon box but arrayed in an artist’s palette, it’s a small motherly bakery in Santa Barbra, a small shade in the ocean, a color in the sky, all wonderful pleasant things but also the name of a young helpless girl, age 8 fighting against the battle of her own life.

Free Puddles             

Spinning. Faster… faster… faster… and on and on. Away from the ground, the earth, and life. The back of my head comforts the soft grass beneath. My strawberry-blonde curls dangle from the roots and then my emerald blue eyes lock onto the faded sun which hides behinds the blanket of the gray clouds as it tickles my heart. I have bright cherry lips and no gloss or lippy can contain the color. I lightly shut my white eyelids to keep the sun from creeping into my soul and bring out all my secrets. I hear a nose it’s a dropping of water of some sort. Rain begins to pelt my checks. I don’t run away from the sensation of rain like others, or fight it and dislike it. I believe that it is a beautiful message from the earth carried through a form of art to tell us what needs to be told. There’s something about it that makes you want to cry and laugh at the same time felling sorry for something, but then it makes you remember exactly what to be proud of and what pleasures are still left even in the harshest tragedies. Rain has a power and withholding that no other thing can even create. I keep laying on the grass , waiting until puddles form around me and I begin to float  , but before  any near penny size puddles come I hear the familiarity of a voice I know by heart. My own mom. She yells to me to get inside and I flee from the serenity of my life’s playground and run toward the yellow painted door withholding my house. Like the beating of the wind, my hair tosses and turns around the egg shape known had my very own head, but only the wind will pertain the elegancy to lift away everything as my hair can only lift away filthy dirt and morning frizz. As I run faster toward the door, felling this elegancy makes a row of pearl white teeth glow like a candle from each one of my lopsided freckled ears. Every thought, felling, spoken word will carry away with the beating against our voices and our minds in the wind. ”nothing remains the same for long” , is one of my many theory’s  Being an eight year old , I love to create my own theory’s.  It’s my own way to discover and understand the world as it is. Another major philosophy of mine that I only put together in words today but understood forever,  is that “once you open yourself to a sunflower no demons can hurt you, no virtues pertain you, and you become free”. But nothing is free forever, there will always be the fact of life and the fact of death and each and every one of us must suffer both at a point in life.

My mom restricts me away from the outside for the rest of the day, for some reason it seems as if she is afraid of gods silent rain tears. Sometimes I think that maybe mom thinks of them as another version of her own incessant tears. So I wander off on to my favorite spotlight of the house. The sun spot, it lays within the nestled side of our hose at a dorm window seat outside the kitchen. You maythink that it is just a window seat and side table, but it’s the details and emotions inside it that keeps you coming back. The seat has a buttered yellow pad with a lime blanket laced with tiny roses embedded in the edges. The blanket drapes over the pad like a queens broach proudly sits upon her shoulders. The pad is checkered with small white squares and continuous lilies along the lines. There are three small pillows upon the pad and blanket. Each one is different and comes from a different life and place. The smallest one has a dog on it with yellow fur and an orange collar he is smiling ear to ear; he is sitting in some sort of kitchen in a western house. The second one is a lopsided shape because it was my mom’s first quilting project as then she was just learning .It has many basic squares of random patterns and textures of wildlife. The last one is most comfortable and is my favorite. It is a picture of a tree, but not just any tree a Japanese willow tree and the colors are clearer than anything. Underneath the tree there sits a small boy with a straw hat covered over his face he is sitting underneath the tree reading an old worn out book. The sky looks silent and the wind looks peaceful and he sits there waiting, but waiting for what exactly? I have wondered al this time. There are two curtains above the sunspot but no one dares to ever close them away from the outside world. No one dares to attempt to shut out the outside life of the sunspot.  The small stand next to the seat is covered in a white thin cloth and on top is a large crystal glass vase. It is beautiful and elaborate with spirals and cuts at the core of it. Inside lays 8 crested sunflowers cut crisply and cleanly by my dad to put into the vase they are truly the heart of the picture. Outside the window of the sunspot is all the world in one piece, there are the willows, woods, oceans, my field all and everything at one spot. I nestle myself down onto the seat for hours staring into the soul of earth.

It is hard to turn away from the world beyond my window. If you’re not careful it takes you in and you can’t let yourself out for hours. But sadly my dad tells me that I need get up and do something today so that I could actually go to bed felling accomplished of my day, so I roll my eyes and walk into the kitchen to balance a fork on my nose for the next hour until dark, just to make him happy. But it doesn’t really work. He next tells me to go to bed, but Instead I climb into my pajamas and lie in bed to rest and read until much longer into the dusky night.

Absent Strength

24, 2400: the speed per minute the earth spins constantly and continuously.  But what would happen if the earth halted and wherever we were placed changes as we are thrown to another. Would everything we have accomplished right then and there be thrown with all forces? Would defeat fall within our hands? Would this feeling feel similar to the chill and demon of cancer upon my young body? The moment you find your most regrets in life is the moment you become aware that your life’s is ending and you are finished forever. Reincarnation is just a dream and fantasy so that we can believe we can have a second chance, but truthfully it’s an excuse to make the people like us with the demon inside feel as if we have someplace to go later and in the future. Some people describe cancer has a mountain of fears and that once you reach the top you just see the sky with no worries, only a simple, natural and small sudden death. To me, It’s more like a darkened everlasting tunnel, a trail with creatures jumping into your soul but you have no place to go, or something more than just the mountain but a incessantly long peak that you have traveled your whole life to get to and until you get there you realize the only item you receive for you victory is to be harshly pushed off and demolished into the dust that rests at the bottom among the dropping of others or the trash of the people you despise. 

I’m in this horrible tornado of sad feelings and sorrow but there is no way I can let the world  in on my thoughts. I go around acting like I don’t care about these feeling anymore but truthfully I am hurting. The outside just can’t know it.

I find myself sitting under the tree thinking about my worries when I hear a familiar sound of a singing bell of a bike, the bike of DiDi Dumberger. DiDi has been my best friend since forever. She is a brave, wild, outgoing friend and nothing stands in her way. She has two neatly pinned braids that dangle from the sides of her ears like a Christmas tree decoration. Suddenly she jumps off her bike and greets me. We sit and giggle under the tree for hours. Soon enough after that we are climbing up various trees of all sizes without shoes thrown abruptly at the end of the trunks.  

The window peeking inside my kitchen shines bright with the image of my parents comforting each other. My mom has a handkerchief in her hand and is swiftly batting away all her eyelashes , my dad has his hand on her shoulder trying to calm her tears.  DiDi looks into my eyes full of questions.

“Is your mom okay? Are you moving? Did your dad lose his job? Is your grandma going to die? Is you’re…”

“no it’s nothing really” I cut in

“well… It looks like more than that J.”

“it’s nothing just I kind of have a cancer”

“CANCER!!”

“yep.”

“are you going to die”

I stare into her almond eyes and can see fear in a mist of a small pupil.

“yep.”

“this is big !I can’t lose you !Don’t you care”

“well…”

At that queue she storms off, grabs her pink glazed bike and storms toward the road.

“she is gone…” I tell myself “for long”

Sailboats

I still can’t forget the moment when the news hit me hard. I and my family had been sitting in the waiting room of my doctor’s office forever. I remember gazing forth to a cheap old painting of a lighthouse and a sailboat. The doctor came out of the white plated door and said something that will change my life forever.

“I have some bad news, I’m sorry”

“what! What’s wrong” my mother threw in

“it’s jade” She continues “she’s going to die”

“Die!!!! There must be something wrong!!she only eight!!” my dad not so lightly chimes in

“I’m so sorry she has a rare non hereditary cancer ”

“can we do anything about it?” my mom avouches

“little but yes” the doctor states “but I shall warn the treatments are expensive”

My parents cry with each other in the corner. The whole time I just sat there and continued to gaze at the sailboat. The sailboat is a wonderful thing it’s so fascinating and remarkable. It’s a boat where both nature and you have control but it has to be split. A theory of mine is that people are much like sailboats for that reason and many others. The water and wind whips us around in all directions, but sometimes , we are capable to steer away. In my case today, I’m frozen on the edge and can’t move, nature is my map and it is leading me into a desert island.

Lost Soil

I wake up sleepier than ever if only I had knew that today would be this bad, I might of fell asleep among the blades of grass and flowers on the field, I might have stayed up all night praying for change, I could have even maybe bought a Buddha as an alternative to save my prayers. For all I know switching religion may have helped.  Anything that I would have done would never have changed the reality of the facts. I have a theory that everything in life changes every minute, like a bird’s wing as it gracefully, innocently flees in the sky and that we will never get to see the warning of the birds poop flying through the air until its way too late , someone was tragically hit. It’s just another challenge that we were given in this life. We have to be grateful for what we have and be happy that our challenges given to us are just a bump in the road, compared to others,  but we still have to keep traveling. As I always put it life is just one complex adventure and it’s not the destination that counts it’s all about the journey taken.

            The morning had been cold from the begging; I slip out of bed and feel my toes tense up in the frost of the air. The morning dew rests upon the blades of grass and the air grasps the flowers and the windows morning glass.  Whipping the sleep from my eyes, I slowly look onto the field. My jaw drops open and without thinking my feet speed ahead of my body and my arms follow. I make quick motions to carry myself outside. A bright red sign sits neatly in the corner of the grass it states:

                                       FOR SALE

Happy Hipdy Reality

Where you friends are never far away

“Great potential in this lot”

Call 244-2424

My stare narrows on the words, analyzing every letter, curve, dip and dive. The hippies state that this”lot” has “potential” like it is a piece of nothing right now and can become an ugly piece of modernized mess. I lay beneath the sign for hours. I blink constantly and pinch myself to see if it goes away. It doesn’t. I can’t help but to think how long until we notice a “sold” sign upon the white wood of the lonesome pole.

I slump down onto the white wood kitchen table with a stubborn pout not hidden on my face. My mom sets a large plate of fresh picked strawberries down beneath my nose. Then she turns back to the counter to grab the crystal bowel of powdered sugar and the adobe one filled of warm honey. She only knows that this is my favorite snack, but I don’t want to be bribed into this pleasing devilish gesture. She sits at the end of the table watching me. Suddenly “BEEP” the washing machine sounds “I’ll be right back, J.I just need to get that” mom announces. As soon as she turns I devour as much strawberries into my mouth as possible, the sugar and honey following of course. Before I know it, she’s back and she can see I’ve followed into her bribe of evil. I tilt my head to glance into the mirror. My cheeks are full and puffy, and sugar is glazed al upon my face, neck, and forehead even, I can’t even mention all of the places the honey is, I have turned the color of the honey bear, all bees will be jealous of my new creature. My mom laughs and grabs a washcloth from the pantry door handle. Dipping it in warm water she proclaims

“We need to talk about this jade”

“I’b sorrby momb I’b kinbd ob hungry I haben’t eaben all day” I state with a barrel of strawberries in my mouth 

“That’s not it honey, everyone knows you set those thing upfront of jade blue and she becomes a mess” she giggles

“than waft ifb it , I don’bt wanna talk tube you mucbh longerb”

“its about the lot, we have it sell it j. We can treat you and you can be okay.

“ YOUb soldb my lifeb, there are othebr options! I hateb you for not tellinb meb ” I cry trying to puss the left food inside my throat to see if my heat will ache a little less, it doesn’t.

“honey, I am not selling your life I’m trying to save it, the money so for a treatment for you it’s our only hope, this is all we have left sweet heart”

“WHO CARES!?!” I yell for the first time without strawberries.

“I DO!! Well I sure  do you are my life jade, and losing you is everything to me, I can’t watch you slip through my fingers without trying to grasp on longer. I can’t watch you fall away, I need you”

Within that line my father walks into the room, a stern face beneath a soft cover. He holds my mother tight and I see something I have never seen before,  I have to blink to see the truth a sly tear dropping down his check. It is then that I realize they do care, but why can’t they find other options.

Red barns with white shutters

Balloons float on the end of the mail box, cake lays onto the table a perfect last setting for a last birthday. The theme is sunflower and there are streamers hung in the air of red, black, yellow, orange, blue, purple, pink, and turquoise, all colors of the crayon box. Today’s meant for a day of pure fun with DiDi. WE decide to spend the whole day eating strawberries and dancing in the field. A perfect birthday.

“hey Jady?” DiDi drawls

“ya?” I respond

“I’m going to miss you”

“really?” I giggle “how much”

“more than all the sunflowers in the garden”

“aw, that’s not that much, I’m going to miss you more than all the grasses in this field”

“well I’m going to miss you more than all the butterflies in the world”

“Not as much as al the stars in the sky”

For the next twenty minutes we ramble on many silly and bazaar things. When unexpectedly a rush rises up my chin into my head. I begin to lose my sight and with a slight whiff of the air I can no longer  feel, touch, and see.

I am rushed to the hospital for intensive care. When it feels as if I have no longer my parents place me in the right place for me, home. I spend a total amount of 24 days at home, in the garden ,and playing in the field before my time catches up.

The vase of hope

I realize now that living a life full of regrets and complaints is not the way to end it. Any and every moment could be your last and if you do have the chance to look back make sure you are willing to face yourself with what you did, felt, and acted upon your life at your last minutes.

Some people proclaim me as fearless but truly it’s not about whether you have enough fears to balance out the ocean or a simple glass of water,  it’s about the strength you gain to fight through the waterfall of you fears and  tsunami. An absence of fear won’t stop you from gaining your dreams and goals,  it’s the strength that lacks that will prevent you from life. I had many doubts on my life but my inner strength is what pushed through all doubts in the end. A fearless action would be to walk away from something that only hurts you that you will know will only hurt you more if you stay with it. Fearlessly letting go is one thing but your strength to help you makes it all possible. No matter what life or love throws at you have to never stop believing in all possibilities of life, or even pleasurable things like a snowy mountain feathered with new snow to lay in and spread your arms , a soft , warm duvet blanket  laid upon a home style couch with your favorite book beneath it, a small girl giggling while twirling reminding you of an image our your own younger self,  these atmospheres are always waiting but you have to pull your strength together to find them in the world in very unexpected corners and places. The simplest pleasures in life are always beneath our eyes but within our hearts our duty is to find them.

Many times I felt as if I had lost my strength,  but then I realized everyone has the strength. I was just doubtful of how much I had wasted not believing. I pull together all my fears and plow through them with all I had left within me.

Fallen Petals

The flowers at the funeral were a wild mixture of sunflowers. They had an elegant glow to them; each petals grid looked textured and handmade to perfection. Jade would have wanted them to do so.

Jades finial message to the world was something that made a small grin force upon everyone’s faces. Her last moments brought together her whole life in one graceful piece. At her last moment she laid in the field noticing all the unique, special, and unquestionably beautiful things it had to offer. She gazed at something and  started to pick it up  between her fingers it was a sunflower, but this one seemed different so she decided to speak to it , She  told her what she thought about the field and how she believed how when you step onto the border of the garden , magic overcomes you . Life’s worries will fade but there is nothing that will stop the fact that we all have to step out of the garden at sometime we all have to take that dangerous jump back into reality and its features within life.

She passed on not afraid of the death she was withholding but the times and moments she was missing, the seconds away from her family, friends, love, laughs and sunflowers.

 Plan and Rough 1

                             Messages from a sunflower

                                    By Sarah Guinon

        Jade, a emerald jewel that glows in the sun, a gorgeous color too delicate to be arrayed in a crayon box but arrayed in an artist’s palette, it’s a small motherly bakery in Santa Barbra, a small shade in the ocean, a color in the sky, all wonderful pleasant things but also the name of a young helpless girl, age 8 fighting against the battle of her own life.

Chapters:

Free Puddles, Absent Strength, Lost Soil, Red barns with shutters, the vase of hope, fallen petals

Beneath the bruises and scars

    Because veterans sacrifice their present lives and their improbable future, Americans faithfully honor them. Veterans display characteristics and personalities that are scarcely found in other people today. Their actions help me experience freedom and a lifestyle that I prize. I am able to continue my daily routine, with the supposition that I am safe and protected.

                A veteran, Chris Arndt, states “I gained appreciation for what really matters in the world. You don’t know how long you have. You have to be the best person you can, while you can.” Chris demonstrates determination, dependability, and intent for our country. He never gives up serving in his life and every ambition. Chris is a true veteran that shall be honored.

                We all love America but not all of us are caring enough to put are lives on the line to free our country, yet veterans have gone to the extent to keep us protected. We are now in a haven from the severity and terrorism in the harsh world. They protect are family and friends. Their love for America is equally shared with everyone

                Loss in form of death on oneself and loss in form of death of a friend are only two of many sacrifices that veterans endure. They journey through a windstorm of desire to let go and leave, but their subconscious hidden deep into their soul says “fight, just keep fighting”. The windstorm never settles nor lets go, the fear weakens and strengthens but doesn’t dim away, and the painful scene beneath their eyes doesn’t fade, it holds on tighter and tighter. Then they suddenly remember why they fight, they see their country, the freedom, the families, and peace. It is just that moment that they realize why they became heroes.

                The veterans suffer a lot of hardship and the “after” is only harder. The things that veterans remember and see in war change the perspective on their lives. The scars will be left forever, the internal bruises can’t hide, and the broken bones will not heal, these internal pains of the past are simply reminders of their sacrifice and dedication too America and to the people. Fortunately, for us are scares and bruises are in the form of freedoms and rights as Americans. We honor veterans because they have given us the peace, serenity, happiness, and freedom that America treasures always and forever.

 Freedom to vote

            Ever since the Vietnam War the voting age for he United States has been 18 years of age. The Twenty-sixth Amendment to the United States Constitution standardized the voting age on July 1, 1971 .18-year-olds were routinely drafted and sent to war without the right to vote. Many countries including Austria, Brazil, Cuba, Nicaragua and the Isle of Man have changed their voting ages to a minimum age of 16, but even a couple of countries have added small restrictions like Germany. Germany allows voting at 16 in some local elections only, and In Slovenia, only the 16-year-olds with jobs can vote. With all of these other civilized countries having the ability to vote at a younger age, why can’t we?

With 16 year olds voting the U.S will be represented better. Even though every adult citizen over 18 has the prerogative to vote several have not used their right because of laziness or loss of interest. Teens have demonstrated that they have a big interest in the election, throughout this year already. If you strongly believe in the Democratic Party then statistics have shown that younger people have been drawn into politics like never before through the Obama campaign and victory. Some may say that 16-year- olds are “easily influenced” by the media. But I disagree. During mid September 55% of registered voters opposed prop. 8 and 38% supported it according to advocate.com. But as you may know on Nov. 4th the proposition had passed.  Field Poll director Mark DiCamillo states “It’s certainly closer than it was before the advertising campaign hit, A lot of that has to do with the campaigning on the yes [on 8] side.” The advertising brought so close to the campaign certainly affected the adult voters. I certainly believe that with 16 year old voters the “affect on the media” couldn’t be as high.

            Furthermore, teens are eligible for employment by the age of 15, unless they are not working in a self employed job these 15-year-olds are taxed by the government. Many people have stated that if a citizen is taxed they might as well get to decide on any real governmental issues. Also, the fact that they have a semi-consistent job is pretty impressive and shows responsibility. Teens will easily be able to shift around that responsibility into other issues, such as politics.

            In addition to, younger voters are most affected. They should have the right to vote on how exactly they would like to reform and create their own future. “We” are the next generation. The laws that we decide today will be “our” in the future. The responsibility ha already been given to us to keep this country has good has our parents and the previous generation has made it.

            All in all, one if the most supported cases in this issue is that having anyone be deprived of voting is extremely undemocratic, and even though I would agree that we shall not send infants out to the polls maybe the United states should consider lowering the age to 16 to help make our county as democratic and fair as possible. I think that teens should start voting at age 16 because they’ve already learned politics in school and are ready to make our country better and better.  We are smart intelligent people and being deprived of this right is unfair.

Here is the Table of Contents for My blog.

All of my posts and writing are under the page marked “ALL Posts”.

Table of contents:

1. My favorite Quote about friendship

2. “Best friends to the end” a draft

3. Snapshots “the road ahead”(wk 2)

4. Artifacts “not only on Fridays”(wk 3)

5.  Name “Sarah”(wk 1)

6. My favorite saying

7. “The Ocean”

8. Reading reaction Letter

9. Family Stories and Legends “Lost in the Game”(wk 4)

10. Boundaries and sacred places.” My ski tree “(wk 5)

11. Parents “    ” (wk 6)

12. Celebrity times “Up and away!” (Wk 7)

13. Difficult times “   ” (wk 8).

   

13. Difficult times “   ” (wk 8).

 Leaving the “forgotten”

Is it truly possible to “move on” in life with a tragedy hidden deep in your past? When a father dies and my mother stands alone in the cold dark, scared and worried is it really possible to step away from those fears altogether? I did not experience any of these emotions in “my” life but my own mother did. She was hurt even harder than her own father losing a father and living close to nothing was something that would take a stronger woman that what she thought she was. (More to add)

12. Celebrity times “Up and away!” (Wk 7)

                The mustard sun beats own on my wetsuit and it soaks through to my back. I sit on the edge of the warm beach but I am not in it. I hope to be soon though. My surf instructor rouge goes on for a incessantly long time about how to stand on my board and how to balance, steer, and so on but me and my friends are not thinking about that right now we are all thinking about what it is going to feel like to lift ourselves of the board to fly above the water and into the sky, we are only thinking about surfing for the first time. When it is finally time to get out I rush towards the water expecting lukewarm wetness but instead I are surprised at the fact that the water freezes my toes and shivers up me. I don’t worry about the temperature to much right now , because I am totally focused on getting out. I paddle my way out into the ocean . Once I get exactly where I want I turn my bard around and I wait for “my wave” the one wave that ii going to lift me back to shore , and land me on the soft smooth sand. Finally, it comes! I start to paddle forward and all of a sudden I am going faster and faster. I stand up , and I’m surfing I can not believe it. I did it only took one try and I made it!!! “wow” I said aloud “wow” was all could say.

Parents (wk 6) :

                                 “Resemblence from the mirror to the heart”

11. Parents “Look alike  ” (wk 6)

        I walk down the street with my mom and a young lady comes up to me and says “o wow is this truly Sarah; you look so much like your mother”, I just grin and keep walking. This same thing happens when I walk with my dad somewhere too. Do people really see me inside my mother and father? Or are they y just being nice? When I look closely into the mirror I see parts of them but I can see even more of them in my heart and personality…..

“You’re not best friends because you sit together at lunch or talk on the phone or have matching flip-flops or can recite each others wardrobe. your best friends because when she smiles , a grin forces itself across your face no matter how mad you are, when she cries you instantly feel  her pain and want to cry with her. when you look her in the eyes you know there’s no one you could ever trust more regardless of how many  broken hearts you’ve had that’s what it means to be best friends.”

10. Boundaries and sacred places

                                                             My Ski tree

      Racing down the hill on my skis, I halt to a stop at midpoint down the hill. A small white tree rests on the sidelines of the hill waiting for me to come again and lie under its light snow covered branches and on top of the white blanket. I rush to the tree and lie under its green and white quilt. sitting here takes me into a different space than anywhere else. Here I can dream, relax, and rest. I look out into the horizon and see nature and the world  at its best. The rolling hills ahead, the rivers dancing and joining and splitting to make an obstacle, the two deer racing into the woods. A picture perfect moment  rested into my own eyes. Once my eyes are too tired from trying to believe this perfect moment I feel that I’m ready to flee from my sacred place and race the rest of the way down the hill. As I  ski back I let all of the hurt and severity fall from behind me , the faster I go the faster it leaves so I go faster and faster as I stretch out far to head ahead into the future where hopefully there will be no badness only happiness, peace, and good. As I reach the end I try hard not  look back but my own  mind turns my head for me and a tear trickles down my cheek as I think about everything that I left on the hill. I’m happy that I am at the end but even the thought of the past can hurt. Am I ready to face the future? Am I seriously ready to “forget” my past ?the bad parts? the good parts? Ill just have to wait a while and see what exactly is to come.

      9. Family Stories and Legends

                                                                                Lost in the game

                My parents’ meeting was totally accidental. They were both in love with only thing. Volleyball. This sport was religion to them and they both were good at it. One day as my mom was walking along the calm beach watching the waves glide forward and backward like a dancer’s lace velvety skirt sways in the music of a small restraint dance floor, she noticed some boys about her age playing her favorite thing, volleyball. She immediately smiled and glanced back at the ocean again watching the waves dance. She found a long, big piece of driftwood and nestled her Indigo blue ankle length skirt on top as she watched the beach. She thought about how much of a perfect moment this was. She though about any way that it could be any better, but she thought of nothing. She sat their under the gold sun and lived her dream. All of a sudden a shimmering white volleyball comes flying through the air like a seagull glides in the wind. The volley ball lands on the end of her sparkly pink toes. She slowly leaned forward to pick up the very familiar, soft textured, glowing volleyball she flung it in the air and did a terrific serve to the boys that were playing the game. They all awed and went over to talk to her. She fell in love with this guy named Chris. They went out for a long time and thy eventually married on the same beach that they met on. On their wedding day they each promised each other that their love is like the ocean. Wide spread, everlasting, and beautiful.

8. Reading Log Reaction Letter

Sundae girl by: Cathy Cassidy: this book carried laughter, emotion, and tears throughout the pages. I loved it! It was about a young girl suffering through her very hard life with divorced parents, loneliness and her mom being a strong alcoholic. This book showed a lot of emotion for the charter Jude. Jude feels like her mom would rather have a glass of whiskey than to care for her daughter. My favorite part is when Jude finishes talking to her mom about quitting alcohol , and her mom hands her a bowl of ice cream and then Jude says” I take a mouthful of rich, creamy sundae, shivering at its icy coldness. The chocolate sauce seems too sweet, too sickly, and the fruit isn’t quite ripe. Why is nothing ever as perfect as the way I remember it? There’s ice cream numbness at the back of my throat that feels like sadness. Mum winks at me.” Good Times she whispers. “Trust me” I almost do.

The it girl by Cecily Von Ziegaser: I liked this book very much. My favorite part about this book was the author very creatively put I.M messages and emails between the charters at the end of each chapter. This created a different way to show the charters conversations. I also liked the ending, because it left me on a cliff and I am waiting to read more.

The truth about forever by Sarah Dessan: This story was good even though I am still reading it my favorite part so far was when macy says ” When I was really going , the wind whistling in my ears , I was sure that if I wanted to, it was only another burst  of breath , one more push , and I could fly.” This quote captures Macy’s feelings on what it feels like when she is running, one of her favorite things. In the story her dad passes away and running keeps her still close to her father in heaven.

Dizzy by Cathy Cassidy: Brilliant!!! LOVED IT!! I want to read it again and again!!!! Capturing the strong effect of a daughter living in a crazy, scary world with mother hurt. Was one way Cathy Cassidy captured my attention. My favorite part was the whole book but a part that truly stood out for me was when Dizzy the main charter describes “I spread my arms and turn, slowly at first , then faster and faster , out of control . The world spins away and my feet lose their hold on earth and I’m squealing, staggering, stumbling. The ground shifts and comes up to slap my back, my head. I lie in the soft, golden sand as the world spins round me, and I remember why I used to love this game. It makes everything go away, until there is just you, your head reeling, your heart thumping .real life churns on, the earth tilts, the sky dips. I grab handfuls of sand to get a hold of myself, but the grains run through my fingers .The hot sun presses me down .A hand brushes past my out stretched fingers, weaves between them. Finn. We lie still for a few minutes, fingertips touching, waiting for the world to stop spinning.” Cathy Cassidy describes the world in a way that other authors struggle with. When reading her books, I can all into it and into that world.

 - Ginger Snaps from Cathy Cassidy is on my wish list for books to read : D

Ocean Moods          

I lay beside the elegant golden sand and below the lemon sun.

 I display a wonderful mixture of the colors sapphire and turquoise.

My icy, lively waves feel cool against the warm dry land.

I’m capacious, long lasting and beautiful.

 In seconds, I can transform from loud to quiet, and wild to calm, but some people describe me as always relaxing, soothing, and peaceful.

 I taste fishy and salty but I make a presence that’s sweet. I’m everywhere and full of life.

 But when the ominous clouds come, danger awaits.

 Because of my wild waves, fear in others around me grows intensely, and they back away tremulously hopefully before the wild storm begins.

No one knows what will transpire around me, The Ocean.

       Artifacts: “Not only on Fridays”

            This box does not only contain many mementos of my friend, Rachael and mine. This box contains memories that will last forever, moments shared in laughter, and aspirations that we still pursue to achieve. This box contains an assortment of things that include candy wrappers that nestle in the golden corners of the perfectly shaped and delicately made box, photo albums that have several bent pages and crinkled corners that wrap together all of our countless memories and good times, a time capsule that is still not planted, letters to each other over the summer, and notes given to each other at various times,our beautiful created “snap cup”  and even more things that represent our lives together as friends.

            Every Friday night Rachael and I have a big sleepover that includes climbing to the top of the fort carrying all that we can carry which includes candles, blankets, chick flicks (likeLeagaly Blonde), my laptop, and most importantly our “Friday night sleepover box”…..(more to add about the sleepovers)

            We lay under the glissining stars watching them sprinkle on all of our hopes and dreams in a nice, calming ,fairy tale way. As we lay there we talk for many endless hours about anything and everything. We lay there dreaming; wishing and hoping while watching our lives leap out in front of us. Life fades up front of us like a water color painting cries in the rain. As we quickly and suddenly grow into adults we will always carry these treasured moments with us like a young boy would hang onto his child hood rusted and torn bear. We will always remember our friendship and that delicately made “F.N.S.” box.

My momma always says life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.”

            This famous quote spoken by Tom Hanks defines me because it demonstrates my personality in the following ways. For example, there are many different components and elements inside my charter and personality. Out of the several combinations that I have to choose from it is very similar from choosing a special piece of chocolate out of the enormous box that is available. Furthermore, chocolate’s flavors are always changing and they can be different everyday. My personality can be shockingly similar. In addition to, even though there are several options of chocolates in a specially wrapped box just as charters in a unique human, none of them will ever be dull, boring or uninteresting. In other words, I believe that this exceptional quote tells me that the world is very mysterious and truly unclear. Life gives me many choices to choose from, but it is my job to pick one and just wait and see what will happen in affect to that choice. Life is uncertain but we must live in it accepting that fact. 

Sarah here

Sarah there

Sarah ,Sarah everywhere

Sarah surfs

Sarah ski’s

Sarah eats strawberries

her name repeats many times

but she remembers that old time

when Sarah’s mother said”story times”

she told her how she got her name

the story is

that Sarah’s mom met sincere ladies

that were all oddly named Sarah’s

She loved that name so so much

that she even named her own daughter after the  sincere ladies

            The Road ahead
            this picture is a very treasured photograph, because on the day that my dad took it was the reunion of our friendship and our lives together. She had now moved to thousand oaks and we have not seen each other for more than a year. Our emotions were exploding and I felt angry at the fact that our friendship is being spaced and one day may end. In the photo we stand in the snow in the time of year when the past comes back. On that weekend I thought about our past and also thought long and hard at the incessantly long road a head of us. She and I stand there looking a head wondering whether or not we will take our first steps down the road together or apart, we wonder whether or not one of us will be ahead or behind, but for now we stand arm linked to arm walking in harmony
                                            

2. Snapshots: The Road ahead + 3. Best Friends to the end

      I sit alone and sad on the concrete edge of the playground. The day is hot and I’m sweating like a pig but I must stay as still as a statue to blend in with the kids in the same position as I am in . On the first day of kindergarten a lot of people are inside the same exact feeling, but no one has the courage quite yet to do something about it. It is too early in our lives and in the school year to have many different cliques and groups, so we all sit quiet, alone, and full of boredom and envy to make a friend.” Today”, I think “is the worst day of my life” , I look around at my new classmates and wonder if school is going to be like this forever , and will every day be a routine to sit here alone and wait for something, something to happen. I girl comes out of my teachers classroom with her head high like a director looking for the perfect person to play a part in a play .She looks around and sees me .Then, surprisingly, heads over. I get scared and wonder what she is doing. She stands up front of me, tightens her blonde pigtails and smiles ear to ear. I mutter slowly the word “hi” in a very shy and careful way. She asks me weather or not I would like to play with her, so I reply with a yes without even thinking about it for a second. To this day I still will never regret saying yes.. After that day followed several sleepovers, play dates, hang outs, and laughs. We shared many  inside jokes, and secrets. She was my best friend, and I was hers.
            I stand at the entry to her house staring at the large door while I wait impatiently for it to open. I can already see her standing there smiling and quickly turning around to run up stairs as she always expects me to chase after her to race her to her bedroom to play yet another game of Barbie’s. The door slowly opens, my eyes quickly move strait to the living room which I still have never seen someone actually stand in. In the dead room (which is what I now call it) there lay several moving boxes. Her dad looks at me and tells me “she’s in her room”; his eyes look tired and worn. I jolt up the stairs quicker than it took for the first tear in my eye to drop. No one has told me what is going on yet, but I have a sense of knowing.
            I reach the end of the stairs and I pass the hall then I suddenly freeze like an icicle. As I stand there, frozen I think for a second at what is happening at this moment and what is to happen to are friendship in the future. Thinking about this makes me cry even harder. I sloth towards her door with the beautiful display of purple pink and lavender flowers, the many pictures of us two together at different places, and the various artifacts and posters that display her wonderful personality. I don’t even knock as usual, I walk write in and I don’t see her clearly at first, because I have been crying so much that it has become to see and because she is hidden under several layers of covers with only little visibility of her blonde hair. I fall to the ground and rest my back against the bed, then I cry I cry for the fact that our long friendship could be compromised, I cry for her, I cry for myself .We each lie in our spots and cry for about an hour until I slowly mutter one single word “why?” she doesn’t respond right away then she says” I don’t know” We cry some more .then, when its time for me to go We hug and she moves. She moves away to Fairfield.
      Our friendship changes a little, but not as dramatically as I expected. I visit her every weekend, but not everyday. I talk to her 4 times a week but not every day. We each have different friend, which hurts and we try hard to adjust to this new life. After a year, while she is at my house she tells me that she is moving to thousand oaks in Ventura County. The first move was hard enough but another one to a place near LA would be too hard to manage. I could not handle a change this big. There was no crying this time .She left my house about five minutes later. When she left I immediately ran up stairs to my room and I didn’t come out for days. I did only one this for 2 whole days, I cried. 

           This picture is a very treasured photograph, because on the day that my dad took it was the reunion of our friendship and our lives together. She had now moved to thousand oaks and we have not seen each other for more than a year. Our emotions were exploding and I felt angry at the fact that our friendship is being spaced and one day may end. In the photo we stand in the snow in the time of year when the past comes back. On that weekend I thought about our past and also thought long and hard at the incessantly long road a head of us. She and I stand there looking a head wondering whether or not we will take our first steps down the road together or apart, we wonder whether or not one of us will be ahead or behind, but for now we stand arm linked to arm walking in harmony.

Here is the Table of Contents for My blog.All of my posts and writing are under the page marked “ALL Posts”.

Table of contents:

1. My favorite Quote about friendship

2. “Best friends to the end” a draft

3. Snapshots “the road ahead”(wk 2)

4. Artifacts “not only on Fridays”(wk 3)

5.  Name “Sarah”(wk 1)

6. My favorite saying

7. “The Ocean”

8. Reading reaction Letter

9. Family Stories and Legends “Lost in the Game”(wk 4)

10. Boundaries and sacred places.” My ski tree “(wk 5)

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