A Little Tiny Wink

            There are some moments in life that you hardly believe happen. They can be sad moments or happy ones. Nonetheless, you stand still in amazement at what is before you eyes.

            Before my eyes I see a very tall creature with beautiful round eyes that reflect my stone-still reflection back at me. The creature’s neck reaches past me towards the ceiling, and its head is two feet from my own.

            I am arms length from a female giraffe.

            She stands there looking at me while chewing on alfalfa. I smile and let out a tiny chuckle, continuing to fill her barrel with her favorite treat. I can feel the blood rushing through my arms and chest. Naturally, I feel a little nervous, but the amazement is showing through my giddy smile.

            The alfalfa starts to irritate me. It has entered my mouth and makes my throat close up. I cough, and Ellie sways her giant neck back.

            “It’s ok, girl,” I soothingly talk to her while I back down the hallway to the ladder.

            I do not want to leave. I would rather sit and watch these majestic creatures all day. Ellie is a beautiful giraffe with big, brown squares all throughout her body. Giraffes are unique because of their patterns. Not one pattern is the same. I could tell by Ellie.  Ellie’s squares were lighter and bigger. They matched her bright and inviting personality. She was much more curious than the other giraffes, and she was always close by my side watching me and smelling me with her hot breath.

            As I went down the ladder, I looked back at her craning her neck to watch me.

            For two seconds we didn’t move. She stopped chewing and stared at me with those giant, brown eyes.

            Then suddenly she opened her mouth slightly and gave me a wink. She turned around and walked away. I went downstairs and left home.

            Driving on the highway, surrounded by hundreds of people traveling home from work and school, I think back at my incredible experience. Not many people get to feed wild giraffes. It is a shame they don’t. If more people were able to meet these creatures face to face maybe they would see how important they are in this world.

            I want my life to be full of these types of experiences. Experiences that I can learn from. When I look back on that wonderful, bright face, I will remember the beauty this world gives us to cherish and protect. 

It was Worth it

            The picture is priceless. An eight-year-old me, and my 18-year-old cousin at the time, Billy, are walking through a shark tunnel at an aquarium.  I am facing toward the camera and gazing upwards at what could be some sort of shark, and Billy is grabbing my arm with one hand while pointing at the glass with another. He is staring at something that is worth pointing out, and has his mouth gaped open. He is about to show me something he thought I would find incredible.

The best thing about this whole picture is the mutual look of amazement we share in this tiny tunnel.

Billy was my favorite cousin growing up. I always wanted to be with him and do what he was doing. His family would travel to Oregon from New Jersey, and mine would come from Texas.

My dad’s family is from Oregon so we would all meet there for family vacations and to visit my grandma. My Aunt Kellie is Billy’s mom, and she is one of my closest aunts. Visiting my family is something I cherish above all things in my life. When my grandmother died we didn’t have any reason to go to Oregon during the summers. I was eight years old, and I was told we wouldn’t be visiting Oregon for a very long time.

My grandmother was the only one who lived in Oregon. So we didn’t see Billy and the rest of the family for another three years.

It bothered me that I couldn’t see my family enough. They told me so many things: “We love you so much” and “ We will try to visit you as much as we can,” I took it to heart. But summer and Christmas came around and no one showed up at my house. I was torn apart.

I had enough of getting hurt and decided that forgetting them was easier than missing them.

When my grandpa got sick a year ago, I knew it would eventually take him. I felt regretful and stupid for being so angry with the people who couldn’t control what life does to them. I had wasted a long portion of my life, hating on my family, and now my grandpa was lying in a hospital bed. He couldn’t talk, and he was in a lot of pain. His misty grey eyes stared at me tired and annoyed. He was always a talker but there was no way he could talk with a feeding tube jammed down his throat.

For the rest of the time I had with him, I asked him questions about my family history. He told me his dad’s dad, my great-great grandfather, was from Madrid, Spain, and that his mother was Native American from the Yaqui tribe in Mexico and New Mexico.

When he died I knew I didn’t want to have to do this will the rest of my amazing family members.

I love to write, so I decided my contribution to my family would be to send birthday cards to every one of my loved ones. This way they know that I love and care about them. I think of them all the time, and I hope they think of me. 

Now I am almost 20 years old and Billy is close to 30. I don’t see him as much as I want. In fact, I don’t get to see my family as much as I want. But today I received a letter from my favorite cousin Billy. He has a new baby, and I had sent him and Baby Owen Halloween cards. I opened the card he sent me and saw beautiful purple flowers on the cover. Inside was written,

“Kelsey, Thank you for sending me and Owen cards! Next time you are up here you will meet him. Until then here is a picture. Stay Awesome!

Love, Billy”

With this message there was two pictures. One of Baby Owen looking so cute with beautiful, blue bug eyes, and the other was of Billy and I in the shark tunnel so many years ago.

I smiled so big when I closed the card. Everything I had done for my family was worth it.

Christmas Christmas Christmas

Some people hate the Christmas commercials that explode on TV after Halloween is done.

            I love it.

            Holiday shopping stresses some people out, but it makes me so excited! Christmas songs play in the malls and on store commercials, and the weather outside gets cool enough for the sweaters to be brought out. That’s saying something living in Houston, Texas.

            What I like most are the smells that start to erupt throughout the following months. Apple spices and gingerbread smell so amazing during this time of year.

            I love shopping for other people’s Christmas presents. The hustle and bustle during this time of year is amazing. It makes you feel apart of something great. There are children wearing big, fluffy coats, and adults picking gifts out for their children and their children’s grandparents.

            It reminds me of how it would be if my family were able to be together for Christmas.  We would be able to cook apple pies and go shopping together. We could go ice-skating; Christmas light viewing, and we could drink hot chocolate.

            Usually we spend the holidays separate from each other. We are too far away. My family is spread out throughout the states so we never get to spend important days together.

            But this year we plan to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas together, and I promised myself I would make the most of it. I have plans to send Christmas cards to each family member with a picture of them with me many years back. I want them to know I miss them and always think of them during this time.

            They might not look twice at the picture or card, but I know that I will feel happy that they received something from me.

            Christmas comes early for most people, but I love the atmosphere that Christmas brings with it: even if it starts in November. 

Home Sweet Home

The building off the highway is the tallest one in the area. It is clear blue when the sun shines on it in the morning. I used to drive past it on my way to work at the mall. The mall’s parking lot was always empty at seven o’clock in the morning. Even though I was tired, and I knew the following few hours would be hectic and long, the building’s glass sparkled, and against the clear, blue sky of the day, it felt calming.

            During a normal day, the hustle and bustle of the afternoon made me feel apart of something. Throughout the holidays, everyone would be swarming into the mall in order to buy their Christmas gifts and a midday lunch with visiting family. Some people hate shopping during Christmas. But I love it. Seeing all the people rushing about, thinking of presents to give their loved ones made me smile. Outside, the sky is clear and there is a cool breeze. The building stills stands strong with red and green lights on the very top, barely visible during the day. But still very bright.

            The night sky is always dark but because I live so close to the city, there are hardly any stars. However, there are still hundreds of people driving on the highway, coming home from friend’s parties or having dinner. Throughout the night the many window lights in the building turn off. But there are still the bright, gold lights at the top, leading people home.

            I do not live at home anymore. When I am home, I cherish the feeling of being home. The warmness. The movie theater is more welcoming than before, the mall is more familiar than before, and the building is more important than before. When I drive the six hours from Norman to Houston, the first thing I see is the looming building in the distance. I know I am home when I see it. I smile; the building brings comfort to me. I am home.

            When I leave to go back to school, the last thing I see is the building. I still do not know what is in that building, who owns that building, or what type of business it is. All I know is means home to me.

            And knowing I will be away for six months, I stare as long as I can at the building before it slowly gets smaller and smaller. Then it disappears.  

Peace

I have never been in a huge fight with any one of my friends. Sure, there are things that we disagree on, and we annoy each other once and a while. But normally we all get along.

Then I met Brittany.

We have completely different opinions on mostly everything. But the difference is how we present them to people. I am not perfect. Sometimes I can be stubborn on my beliefs, but I am never rude.

The other day Brittany used Facebook to write on her status that she believed anyone who did not believe in Christianity was going to hell. There is something called free speech, but if she is willing to dish it out she needs to be ready to get it back. And boy did she get it back.

I stayed out of it, but a lot of people, including a lot of my friends and our other roommate, wrote back saying that religion is something that people should keep to themselves. Especially, if you think people are going to hell just because they do not believe the same way you do.

The result was a war of words. People were saying mean things to each other. Even Brittany’s “Christian” boyfriend wrote to our roommate that she should “sleep with a guy and get pregnant because that is the only way she could keep a man.”

How is that a “Christian” man?

Religion is a very complicated subject. My mother always said to keep my beliefs to myself and to never ask other people about their beliefs. It is not polite. I agree.

I have friends who follow many different religions, my mom’s family is Catholic, and I have my own set of beliefs. Throughout the course of my life, I’ve picked up ideas from religions and plain experiences that I believe would make me live a better life. But I DO NOT believe it is the right for one denomination to judge another. Who is right? If Buddhists believe their ways are right and Christians believe theirs are, who is correct?

It doesn’t matter who is right. Whatever makes people happy and at peace should be their religion. Whether it be in a church or being able to walk outside, all that matters is harmony.

Brittany was not right to tell people that her roommates (that includes me) are “lost.” My definitions of lost and sins are different than hers. I do not want to change her mind on anything. I am perfectly confident in myself that if she thinks I am lost and going to hell in her mind, I am not bothered by it. It is when she goes on a public site like Facebook and share that her roommates are “lost.”

She told my roommate that she wished I could find my “God” because I would be happier. First of all I do believe in God, but I do not follow Christianity; and second I do not need to be fixed. I am happy and confident in my beliefs.

Brittany is the one, in my opinion, who is lost if she has to judge everyone else and their ways of worship.

When I do good, I feel good; when I do bad, I feel bad, and that is my religion.

Emotionally Screaming

I just watched Vanity Fair staring Reese Witherspoon. I have never seen this movie, nor have I even heard of it before. I love Witherspoon as an actress, but the movie was rather confusing and long. The plot involved a lot of different people falling in and out of love, deceiving hearts along the way. Witherspoon’s character was obsessed with fitting into society and being the life of any party. But she was in love. She married the man of her dreams and had a child with him. But throughout the movie dishonest choices led to the love of her life leaving her.

The English man turned to look at the beautiful lady that stood before him and knew that life would never be the same. She wasn’t the same. Life had changed and shaped her into someone he did not recognize. The love of his life had already left him long ago.

He turned and walked out of the front door.

Witherspoon’s character watched him leave and stood there whispering “no” to herself over and over again, her eyes filled with hot tears. Then out of nowhere, she lets out a blood-wrenching scream that sent tingles up my spine.

I stared at her and knew how she felt. I know everyone in this world has had that same feeling at some point. The feeling that nothing can make you feel better, and the world has suddenly fallen on your heart. The weight makes you fall to your knees and cry until there are no more tears. She continued to cry and the desperation is understood. I had that same feeling when I was a child and my first dog died. I had that same feeling numerous times when I felt my parents didn’t understand me. I had that same feeling when I lost my grandfather and missed my family.

Sometimes crying isn’t enough to express the emotions inside a human’s body. I was shocked at Witherspoon’s scream, but I feel like I was more shocked at that fact that I completely understood her pain.  

Senses Bring the Memories

I miss the smell of roses and fresh, salty wind. I miss the sounds of crashing waves and the distant train traveling over rusted train tracks.

But most of all I miss the familiar faces. My cousins, my aunts, my uncles, even the people I have only known through photos. Growing up away from family is harder than most realize. It was easy when I was young. My innocence told me I would see my grandparents every Christmas, and I would go to California and Oregon every summer.

But as you grown up, you realize life doesn’t follow the mind of a six year old.

When I was eight years old, my Dad’s mother, my grandmother, died at 82, and we stopped going to Oregon.

We had driven down from saying our final goodbyes to grandma at the Hilltop Cemetery. My brother and I had our heads out of the windows in the backseat; staring out at the beautiful, blue Willamette River with the cool, crisp wind in our faces. We laughed a little as Dad rushed over a few hills. Our stomachs felt gooey and tickled.

“Hey, guys, we are going to go say goodbye to everyone now,” My Dad stared at us through the review mirror and spoke to us in a voice I hadn’t heard before: stern and solemn.

“Ok, Daddy,” I didn’t think much of this. I knew we always said goodbye after our trips. But we always came back.

“Well, you both better say a good goodbye, because I don’t think we will be seeing everyone for a long time.”

I stared at my Daddy because my Daddy never lies.

“Why would we not see them? We always come back.”

“Kels, grandma is gone, her house is sold,” my Mom has been staring out the window this whole time. “We don’t have a reason to come back.”

Both of my Dad’s sisters didn’t live in Independence, Oregon, and everyone else here was Dad’s close friends he grew up with. Granted, we had other distant relatives, like Dad’s uncles, but there was still no one we could come back to visit. They had their own families.

I thought about it for a second, but decided it wasn’t anything to worry myself about. We would come back; we had to. We went to say goodbye, and I told everyone I would see them later.

The next day we flew back to Houston, Texas. We didn’t go back to Oregon for four years.

                                   *

     For the next few years I couldn’t understand why no one would come to visit us. We had always visited them. Family is meant to see each other on important holidays and definitely summer. But as the years went by I knew they weren’t coming.

     So instead of hurting, I turned angry. I didn’t need them or want to see them. I was older and had my own problems. The jealous I had towards my cousins who lived close to out family grew to a point where I didn’t count them as my cousins at all. Why should I? They didn’t seem to care about me either. They grew up and were able to meet my grandpa’s older brothers and grandpa’s nephews and nieces. I was that distant cousin… what was her name?

*

     Now, I am a sophomore in college, and apart from everyone: Even my Mom, my Dad, and my brother. My grandpa died a month ago, all the way in San Jose, California. My Mom was able to go out there, but I was here alone. The sadness didn’t last long, but the regret still stings.

     I should have called him more while he was in the hospital. I should have called him more before he even got sick, instead of being angry, jealous, and hurt. If I could do it over I would, but life doesn’t work that way. At the age of 19, I have my first, burning regret that will never leave me.

     For all my cousins, aunts, uncles, grandma, close family friends, and my parents I send birthday cards and anniversary cards. That is my way to at least say I am keeping in touch and showing that I care about my family. Whether I get cards back or not, it doesn’t matter to me. As long as I know I hold family close to my heart.

     Whenever I hear a train whistle, it takes me back to reading with my grandma in Independence, Oregon. Whenever I smell salty air and fresh flowers, it triggers memories of lying on grandpa and grandma’s couch, watching the thick blinds sway from the wind coming through the open window.

     These beautiful senses will remind me of family.