Time Heals All

        It’s the fourth of July on my first night in Florida. I’m having hot dogs and hamburgers at a firework show with my family. We’re so happy to be living here now. The air is so warm and moist from the humidity. That’s the best quality of Florida. We love its ever-changing weather from sunny to rainy. As the fireworks are starting, the best song comes on: Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue. All of us begin to dance. The music shakes my small body as I move around. Looking around, I see a girl dancing in the same way I am, assuming she’s my age. I walk towards her and begin the conversation that changes my life.

“Hey!” I yell over the blaring music and booming fireworks.

“What’s your name?” she responds in the same tone.

“Haleigh, what about you?”

“My name is Hayley too! Oh my gosh! Where do you go to school?” she exclaimed.

“I’m new here; I’m going to a place called Aucilla Christian Academy, but I don’t’ know anyone.”

“You’re kidding! Me too. We’re going to be best friends, I’ll show you everything!”

The excitement is in the air now as we dance and watch fireworks all night. We will be best friends, I know it. This year will be the best one, and I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my elementary and high school years with my new best friend, Hayley.

 

This day is the worst day of my life. I’m only eight, how do I take this kind of pain? When I arrive at school, the rain is beating down on me and I don’t even mind. Walking inside my classroom kills me. The tears from everyone’s eyes are pouring down like water and there’s no way to stop it. Pictures of Hayley are everything saying “In Loving Memory”, but I see disbelief in everyone’s eyes... Even my own. Hayley was too young to be taken away from the world. She was an almost perfect person with God in her heart and love on her mind. How could she be gone? I shake my head because the pain is almost unbearable. Now I have to hang my head and go through the rest of my life without her.

 

As if the day in third grade wasn’t terrible enough, here comes the pain again. Here comes goodbye. Another person in my life is gone. It has been three years since Hayley’s death and I’m not even over that. Life is moving too quickly for me, I can’t handle it. I’m too young to be going through this much pain.

My mother finally gets off the phone, but she doesn’t even have to say anything because I already know what is to come. I immediately run upstairs and jump on my bed face first. I weep. I weep for my grandfather, and for Hayley, two people in my life that meant everything to me. I can’t do anything else. I picture the rest of my life without them, and it’s a nightmare. How much pain can a person take and how can I ever move passed this?

Moving was one way of trying to move on. Crawfordsville, Arkansas is my new home now. Leaving was the right thing to do. The memories hurt too much to stay in Florida; maybe it will be easier here. It’s away from all the pain I have to deal with. It’s away from the constant reminders of my loved ones. It’s away from all the memories that sting in my mind. Wouldn’t they want me to move on? Life is just as confusing now, being sixteen, as it was when I was eight.

 I think these things as I walk in the fresh new house. Everything is new. Everything. My room has a new bed with a comforter, new paint, and new dressers. There is almost nothing left of all my heartache except one picture of my grandpa, Hayley, and me, but I put it in a drawer and plan to never bring it out. I need to live my life now. There can’t be any more depression and anger. I have to move on.

 

               I walk inside my apartment and smile as I look out onto the beach. I put down my diploma and cap and take a look around. I think to myself how much more amazing my life is here. I remember the mild and moist air, along with the ever-changing weather as the sun begins to come out for the first time today. I remember how I loved this and realize that I still do. It brings back so many wonderful memories. My heart smiles as I remember playing on the beach with my grandpa and Hayley. They are looking down on me and are proud of what I’ve become. My heart and mind are at ease from this thought. Still walking, I hang up a picture in the hallway; it’s my favorite one of my grandpa, Hayley, and me.            When I do this, I know my heart is where it belongs. Florida and I are reunited in a whole new way, a better way. A way in which I can embrace my lost loved ones as they always were, happy.

 

Old Friends

Reading and I aren't best friends anymore. It's different for me now than it was when I was little. I guess I could never really fathom the idea that reading would ever mean so much in everyday life as I understand now. I wish that I would've grasped reading a bit better than I actually did, but it's never too late to start again. As I remember, my reading gradually went down the older I became.

        When I was very little, my mother would read to me daily. I loved the books with all the elaborate pictures, amusing sounds and flaky stories of my favorite nursery rhyme characters. After a warm bath and cool creamy ice cream, I would always cuddle up to my mom as she read my favorite books over and over until I came across another one that caught my attention. Sometimes my mother would walk in my room and see me with my nose in an upside-down book, which she found humorous. She loved to read to me and see how much I loved it too since her, and the rest of my family, never exactly liked reading, or school, for that matter. She was never the person to grab a book and dig in, but she wanted me to be that person, and I admire her for that now.

        My grandpa was a tremendous influence for when it came to reading. My grandfather had a concentrated, deep, passionate infatuation with learning and so did I. That is how our relationship blossomed. He was one of the few in my family that went to college and lived life to the absolute fullest, education wise. He could explain and elaborate on anything you would ever want to know. Whenever I needed help with words in a book or understanding what an author meant, he was the person to go to and I always did. If he wasn't helping out with my homework, he was reading. Every day he would be engrossed in an old western by Louis L'Amour, and I promise he had every book L'Amour had ever written. I saw my grandpa reading, and I wanted to be just like him. I would plop down on the couch in the same position he had been sitting in and read a book just like he did. Throughout school, I always explained to him the stories my teacher had read to us or story I had already read for a book report. School and reading were all we ever talked about, and our relationship became like peanut butter and jelly. We just went together.

        Whenever my grandfather died in 2008, so did my passion for reading. It wasn't for entertainment anymore; it wasn't even delightful to read like it was without him. I felt as if I was forced to read and being forced to read only called attention to the burning memory that my grandpa wasn't there to help me through it. So throughout the rest of my school life, I never read. I only read when I was asked to do so, and I didn't take a liking to it since then.

        Now, I am gradually getting back into the hang of reading. I've attained the thought that my grandfather would absolutely want me to read. I know he would give anything to see me gaining knowledge from book after book and loving it too. Trying to read is a difficult task, but maybe I will create another bond in the near future. For now, reading and I are merely old friends trying to figure out a way to connect again.

I am.

I am a dreamer and an optimist
I wonder what my life will be like in ten years
I hear nothing but disrespect and ignorance
I see a world where everyone fits in
I want to make my family proud
I am a dreamer and an optimist

I pretend that I tower over everyone
I feel others pain as if it was my own
I touch the lives of others by speaking the Word
I worry that I will not be good enough
I cry because I wear my heart on my sleeve
I am a dreamer and an optimist

I understand that everything is not what it seems
I say love others and stop being judgemental
I dream that one day everyone will truly be equal
I try to make everyone happy
I hope I will stay the same forever
I am a dreamer and an optimist

So Easy a Dead Man Can Do It

     Why is a dead man so intriguing? When you think of a dead man, you think of a lifeless, shrivelled up, pale body. The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World a different perspective on life and death. Estabon, the main character, is a dead man that washes up on the shore and everyone is interested as to where he came from and why he is so amazing. Estabon is a large, towering, virile man that everyone loves and adores because of his outstanding qualities. He teaches us that being different is something you should embrace, and try to make an impression on someone, or even on the world.

    Estabon obviously loved being different and lived a long, happy life because of how his death was. After Estabon died, all the people remembered him as a great man and celebrated his death. They wanted to be just like Estabon. That is how we should be today. We should live life to the fullest and have a long, wonderful life. You only live once, right? That's the motto, yolo! Not only did he live a great life, but he was an example to to people. All of us need to be an example for someone else. Estabon was a handsome, tall, very large man. He couldn't even fit through doorways, but he embraces his qualities and that's why people looked up to him. Wouldn't you want to be someone that another person looked up to?

    There are plenty of people out there who dare to be different and want to be an example for others. Anyone who is religious dares to be different. There are so many different religions and they all love to praise their god out loud and they show that in everyday life. Why not love your god out loud? Step out of the norm and don't be afraid to show who you are and shore the things you love with the world. Take the Pentecostal religion, for example. All of the girls wear long skirts with very long hair and no makeup. Almost every teenage girl would die if they had to leave the house without makeup, but they dare to be different and have complete confidence while doing so. I only wish I had enough confidence to go against a crowd.

    Why don't we set examples for other people? Why can't we dare to be different? Do we really care that much about what others will think? Let's all take the time to be outstanding. The reward for making a difference is when you see it in other people. When you know you've made a difference in some one's life for being different and owning that, you find true happiness.