A Winter Writing Wonderland

 December Writers 2020!!!!

Before we say goodbye to 2020, we have our batch of December submissions.  There is a total of 14 pieces for this month.  Please make sure to read all of the submissions.  Choose your favorites and write comments for at least three.  You may write for more if you wish.

Comments are due Friday,  January 15, 2021.

Make sure to leave helpful, kind, and encouraging comments on the posts as this is a safe space for our writing community.

DO NOT use your phones for comments.

Make sure to SIGN YOUR NAME after your comment.

I hope you are all enjoying your Winter Holiday Break.  I am looking forward to seeing all of you next week.  

Stay safe. Be loving and kind.

Feed Your Soul,

Mrs. Solano

xoxoxo

https://all-free-download.com/free-photos/free-winter-wonderland-pictures.html

I am more than a Polygamist Cultist--Mandy

 

I am in a cult and I believe in polygamy. I am going to have 15+ children when I’m older. I hate anyone who does not believe the exact same ideas I do. I’m republican and absolutely against people having rights, naturally. I ​live​ for the day I get to move to Utah. I judge anyone who drinks diet coke and I abhor dancing. My favorite musical is the Book of Mormon, it’s absolutely classic. I met a cute guy today and now my wedding is in two weeks. I am a witch and grateful this is not Salem, 17th century. I am Mormon, oppressed, and definitely not Christian. My name is Molly, let me speak to your manager.

Surprise surprise, none of these are true. These are all accepted ideas about beliefs that come from history, a random single person, or nowhere at all. I’m a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and usually people think they know more about my religion than I do haha.

It is not a cult, that would be hilarious though. Those are social movements or groups that usually take ideas to an extreme- the members have to be highly committed and sometimes are encouraged to distance themselves from friends and family. The leaders are greedy, charismatic narcissists while President Nelson is a super nice guy. I’ve read in more than one social media comment that the church is a cult because we don’t have any mainstream Christian beliefs but that’s not true.

Polygamy is actually not allowed, it’s banned in all states except slight legalized in Utah (which ruins my entire argument). I think people probably get that idea from the show on Netflix about the “Mormon” families who have multiple wives but in reality you’d get excommunicated. The olden day church unfortunately did use to practice polygamy but please don’t judge us. We’re new and improved and we only have monogamous relationships now.

I will admit the stereotypes about having a lot of kids, being Republican, getting married fast and living in Utah are kind of true, a lot of members are into that stuff. I am allowed to drink diet coke, we just try not to drink coffee, alcohol, or do drugs or smoke. However I would never judge people who do enjoy those things.

I would never hate someone if they chose to leave the church or if they had a different opinion, and that’s definitely not the church as a whole. A lot of members individually are losers but they don’t represent the entire church (don’t judge a book by reading a single word lol). As Christians, we’re taught to love everyone no matter who they are or what they chose to do. This church has taught me to be a more charitable and understanding person, although I’m still kind of the worst.
Thank you for reading :)

I can breathe, but I choke--Nia

My sister had sent me a 10-minute-long video and texted me “This is the country we live in, so sad…” I already had a bad feeling because the cover of the video sent was a white police officer and a black man. As I readied myself to watch the video, my thoughts were that I was just going to see another situation of a police officer abusing their power to assault a black person like I’ve seen many times before. I thought I was going to see something that happens in this country every day. And I was right, but for some reason this video was different. On May 25, 2020, in Minneapolis, Minnesota, a store clerk called the police accusing a 46-year-old black man named George Floyd of using a counterfeit 20-dollar bill. Once the police arrived, a white male officer named Derek Chauvin proceeded to act violently towards George Floyd, hand cuffed him, and once he decided that wasn’t enough, forced him to the pavement and shoved his knee into George Floyd’s neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. For 8 minutes and 46 seconds, the world witnessed George Floyd pleading for life. For 8 minutes and 46 seconds, Derek Chauvin decided to grind his knee into a man that was gasping for air. For 8 minutes and 46 seconds, J. Alexander Kueng, Thomas Lane, and Tou Thao stood by while they watched their colleague suffocate a man. For 8 minutes and 46 seconds, millions of people watched George Floyd cry for his deceased mother as he was coming closer to his death. For 8 minutes and 46 seconds, I watched George Floyd, hoping that the police officer that had his kneecap to his throat would hear him screaming out from the top of his lungs, “I can’t breathe.” This alarming chill went throughout my body once I realized what I had just witnessed. I was angry. I was heartbroken. I’ve seen so many videos like this, I don’t know why this one impacted me that much. Maybe because it was more up close and personal? Or that I could hear the cries of this man so clearly? I don’t understand why this video had such an influence on me when I’ve seen many other videos that are so similar to it.  I think it was so weird for me because the emotion that was taking over my mind and body was guilt. I had so much guilt in me because I can breathe, but I choke. I can breathe but I choke because it frightens me that people can be killed just because of the color of their skin. I can breathe but I choke because I can’t take the wretched feelings when I realize that an organization that is supposed to protect us from harm is killing innocent people just because they’re darker than others. I can breathe but I choke because it enrages me that in 2020 only, over 100 black people have already been killed by the police. I can breathe but I choke because for some reason only a few of those deaths get to national news. I can breathe but choke because 26-year-old Breonna Taylor was shot and killed in her own home by the police while sleeping in her bed. I can breathe but choke because 22-year-old Stephon Clark was shot more than 20 times and killed by the police while standing in his grandmother’s backyard. I can breathe but I choke because 12-year-old Tamir Rice was shot and killed by the police for playing with a toy gun in the park. I can breathe but I choke because if I wrote about every single person who was wrongfully killed by the police for simply being a person of color, this narrative would become a novel. I can breathe but I choke because the police officers who kill these innocent people were able to get away with it. I can breathe but I choke because more and more every day I realize that racism and systemic injustice is so deeply rooted into this country that it is nested into the core foundation of the United States of America. I can breathe but I choke because I had to learn how your health, livelihood, and education can be so impacted just because of your skin color. I can breathe but I choke because the history I was taught in school is so romanticized to make us believe that this country wants everyone to succeed equally. I can breathe but I choke because the reality of this country hit me like a bus. I can breathe but I choke because I’ve come to understand that because I am a beautifully melanated black woman, I am going to have to work ten times harder to succeed in America than some who may be lighter than me or has different genitals. I can breathe but I choke because being a 17-year-old with a bunch of hormones and homework taking in the actuality that I’m going to have to be a breathing functioning adult is this chaotic, unfair, greedy world is not good for me at all. But it is all that I see now, on social media, on the streets, everywhere. It’s slowly settling in that this country was not made for me to succeed, but the absolute opposite. I have been so sheltered my whole life to believe that this country was designed for everyone to live in perfect harmony and only a few bad things have happened in the past. But the reality is this country was made for rich white men, and the farther you are from being that the harder it’ll be to survive in America.

Pride--Tyler

 

Pride, ​a high or inordinate opinion of one's own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc.

To introduce this topic in a factual manner is probably the most ironic thing that could

happen in this writing. Allow me to explain, if I were to tell a story of my joy when I overcame an obstacle would be self-indulgent. To speak of a time in which I was humbled, is still self-indulgent in some fashion. Anything other than a universal truth would be indulging in something. Suppose I did tell an emotional story, or go over some relevant issue that I took the time to study, it wouldn't have harmed you, me, or the writing, it wouldn’t have been conceited, it would have just been a coincidence with the topic; the second I say it was the only way or the obvious way, is when it becomes dangerous.

Hubris, exaggerated pride or self-confidence.

A simple difference that we know, as students of English literature, goes a long way. Hamlet, Julius Caesar, Macbeth, Othello, Victor Frankenstein. These characters all share one primary characteristic, their hubris, their mentality, that they were more of something, and that it made them special compared to another. Hubris is the simple notion of acting your pride, a reverse of causality essentially. Where pride is normally the effect, caused by an action, deed, idea, etc. Hubris is when the cause is pride, and the effect is the action. For example, helping groups in need, such as providing them clothes, toiletries, food, or other necessities might make you feel good about yourself, and even that you are a good person; that is pride. However, if you say that, “Hey, I am a good person, good people help those in need, thus I’m going to help those in need.”, that is hubris, because your justification implies that you are better than someone else. Pride is the result of something, while Hubris is a meek justification. But what separates the two?

Humility, a modest or low view of one's own importance.

Modesty and Humbleness, the tiny notion in the world that you are not the one who is going to solve all the problems of the universe. Just because you helped provide some people with necessities, does not mean you eliminated poverty in its entirety. So you can continue to help those in need, and continue that feeling, that you are helping, and that you are a nice person, or you can milk the statement that one time you helped someone in need. Humility reminds us, in its various forms, reminds us that we are not better nor the best. In sports, someone may always be faster, better, more technical, etc. In relationships, someone will always be kinder, so we should not take those around us for granted. In life, someone can always do the job better, so we should work hard and improve ourselves. Pride is the idea, “I will do, so that I am better” while Hubris is the idea, “I am better, so I will do it.” A simple reversal like that tells us why characters, like Frankenstein, would meet the end that they did. Victor Frankenstein thought he was the only one who could create life, and so he should take it upon himself to use this power,

and look at how that ended. Maintain a little bit of modesty, so you do not end up dying stupidly defending your ego like a Shakespearean tragic hero.

Here are a few tips to do so:

• -  Remember that you matter

• -  Remember that you do not matter MORE than someone else

• -  Remember that what you feel is okay, and perfectly valid

• -  Remember that what you feel is not a reason to impede another person’s course of life

• -  Remember that Pride and Hubris are almost uniquely human concepts, so of course we

  do not have anything.

• -  Remember that when talking about the concept of Pride, you can not avoid talking about

  the individual, or even yourself.

• -  Remember that saying, “I am humble” or, “I am modest” are ironic statements.

Moving Forward--Angelique

 

It was late 2013, the excitement of winter break and the start of a new year lingering in the atmosphere. The air was cold and crisp, the school trimester was wrapping up, and the seasonal festivities were slowly approaching. I was 10 years old, completing my final year of elementary school with little to no worries clouding my mind. My two little sisters were 6 and 4 years old, barely entering elementary school, and too young to even worry about the little things in life and what was in store for them. One day, we were all sitting on our couch in our living room, when we saw our mother being helped as she walked down the stairs. She had her hair up in a messy bun, she was trembling, and she had a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. I heard her coughing and sniffling, and she seemed to be struggling to stand on her own. My two sisters ran up the stairs and grabbed onto her, asking her what was wrong and why our father was having to hold her up.

What’s wrong? Is she really sick? Is she okay?

He simply told us that she was sick, and that she just needed help walking around the house. With the way he phrased it, it only seemed like she had a fever and that it would all pass. Thinking that this was the case, my sisters and I brushed it off and continued with our day. A week later, my sisters and I arrived back home from school to find that our mother wasn’t home. I walked up to my father and asked where she was, and he told me, “Your mommy wasn’t feeling better, so I had to take her to the emergency room.”

The emergency room.

“Will she be okay?”
“Yes, she’ll get better soon. She just needed to see the doctor.”

It all seemed so simple. She would stay there for a short time, see a doctor, get medication, and feel better in a few days.

Those few days turned into a couple of weeks, which turned out to be multiple months. What started out as a simple fever became pneumonia.

As the first half of my fifth grade year came to a close, I continued to wonder when my mother would be coming home from the hospital. My little sisters missed her every day, and our house seemed a lot emptier without her bright, outgoing personality. Every week or so we’d get an update about her from family who would visit her in her hospital room.

“She’s doing better! She’ll get out of there in no time.”
“She’s having trouble breathing and talking, but she’s still able to eat.”
“She misses you guys a lot, and she’s determined to come back home after she gets better.”

We even received an audio message from her, telling us that she would feel better, she missed us, and that she would be home soon.

That audio message was the last time we would ever hear her voice.

Over the course of the next few weeks, she lost her ability to speak, she had difficulty breathing, and she was permanently bedridden. They had to put various types of tubes into her in order to help her breathe, and she communicated with my family members by writing on a white board with a dry erase marker. My father never let me and my sisters visit her in the hospital, as he didn’t want us to see how skinny and frail she had gotten. He wanted us to remember her as she was when she was at home; smiling, laughing, and healthy.

One day, my father pulled me aside and told me, “Don’t tell your sisters, but your mom’s heart stopped today. They got her back, though, but now we’re really worried about her...”

Whatever else he said after those words became a muffled mess compared to the pounding of my heart in my ears. Everything flooded into my head at once, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but focus on one single thought. This was the first of the few signs that really solidified the fact that she wasn’t getting any better.

I know what’s going to happen.

As I neared the end of my fifth grade year, there were still no signs of my mother leaving the hospital anytime soon. Deep down, I knew that she wasn’t going to make it out of the hospital alive. I knew it, but I didn’t want to believe it.

Please, no.

Then, in April 2014, she passed away.

Obviously, I was sad. I felt like a part of me had been torn away from my grasp, and I felt empty and alone. It was like I was reaching out, trying to hold onto something, only for there to be empty air everywhere my fingers could touch. I cried after I heard the news, but I was also frustrated. I was angry and confused and I felt that what had happened was unfair.

But at the same time, it didn't hit me as hard as it could’ve. I felt that I had seen this coming from miles away, so when my dad told me, “Come upstairs. I need to tell you something,” I already knew what I was going to hear.

It hit my family hard, and we held her funeral soon after. We were forced to continue on with life as if we hadn’t just lost one of the most important people in our lives.

Due to her passing away at such an early stage in my life, I was forced to fill the motherly role for my two younger sisters. This resulted in me doing most of the household cleaning, helping cook meals, and

helping with homework. Since I was balancing my household responsibilities and advanced academic classes, as well as going through middle school, I was dealing with immense stress, which developed into depression and anxiety. For a few years, I never asked for help and slowly began to seclude myself from my family, as I felt the need to face my own issues without anyone else’s help. My grades slowly began to slip and my passion for learning began to deteriorate.

As much as I wanted to take care of my sisters and help my father around the house, the depression and stress overwhelmed me and I started to break down over time. However, as I entered high school, I decided that I wanted to start seeing a therapist, and she helped me recognize that it was okay to seek help from others. I was able to perform a lot of self reflection, and I slowly but surely began to bring myself out of the rut I had been in. Due to my positive interactions with my therapist, I became more interested in mental health awareness and I began to take psychology based courses, do my own research, interview family members who specialize in psychology, and more. My passion for helping others and mental health awareness began to grow over time, and I decided that I wanted to become a psychiatrist. Although my mother’s death led to the development of mental illnesses, it ultimately shaped me into who I am today. The new mindset I developed allowed for me to have a more positive outlook on life, and I become more empathetic and understanding of, not only myself, but those around me. I pride myself in being someone who’s able to connect to their feelings, as it has given me opportunities to help others through their own personal issues. I started indulging in several after school clubs and activities, I joined my school’s leadership program, and I started joining multiple volunteer groups within my city. Although my mother’s death was an overall negative experience, I would never have become the passionate individual I am now, and I’ve become someone people can come to when they need help or guidance. Thanks to the supportive friends and family members that have helped me over the past few years, I’ve been able to grow, care for my family, and continue moving forward.

Positivity--Ryan

 This might seem weird to say, but people sometimes say to me “how do you keep such a positive demeanor? Even if something bad happens, you’re always so positive about it!” The first thing that always comes to my mind is “huh, I’m really not sure,” but I believe it’s about time I give a serious answer.

It all began with my elementary school days. I was staying with my father and his side of the family primarily. My father was a financial dad, nothing more, nothing less; that’s why I call him a “father,” he really was not a “dad.” To be frank, the only thing he provided me and my other 5 siblings this false reality that he had a strong sense of family; that it was our mothers holding us back from our true potential. My brother Nickolas being the eldest of the group, he was the first to tell us that our interpretations of father were wrong. I obviously denied this, I felt as though father was the rock, the backbone of our family. Nick told us “don’t worry, you all will come to realize what type of man your father is in due time.” As much as I want to believe he was wrong, he was absolutely correct; solidifying my interpretation of my father as fiscal and a divider. With this shocking revelation, I rarely felt a sort of connection with my family. This constant division between families would shroud me in a dark state of mind, bringing about distrust and lost dependence on anyone.

Yeah, this was my young life. I really tried to commit to a reconnection and relationship with my father’s side of the family, but my efforts would yield the same result every time. I was shut out of everything I wished to be included in. If the family was congregating and laughing, I was told to go somewhere else. If my dad was to watch me, I’d just be locked in the house. My only safe haven in which I felt someone would talk and connect with me was at my grandmother’s house. Grandma and Auntie would always be present and they truly provided me an outlet where I could finally express my thoughts and feelings. They never once told me “you talk too much” or “shut up” or “play outside or something,” like my father and the rest of the family had. Instead, they greeted me with open arms and actually looked pleased to see me! For once, I actually felt like my presence was not a burden, not a hindrance to someone else. I felt like I belonged. Knowing I talk a lot, they would always tell me that it was a sign of intelligence, always listening to what I had to say. In response, they would tell me seemingly infinite stories from when they grew up, how times have changed, what life lessons they learned. I had finally, finally accepted at least somewhere in the family.

Fast forward to 2017, fifteen and full of acquired knowledge from these two mother-like figures. Though mainly focused on high school and grades, I received a rare phone call from my father (how exciting). My brother and I were to be taken to my Aunt’s house for a short visit, seemingly out of the blue. This would mark the first time I saw her old, tan house in my life. My aunt looked different from the years past, she was skinny and her hair was really short. I remember telling her that I liked the style change! We spent time talking about my future and If I would uphold my promise to her that I would give her 25% of my paycheck when I reach my career goal (this was a promise I made back in elementary school, so of course I told her “yes!”). It really was a short visit though, as we ate and chatted for only about two hours or so; My father had some work he had to do and it was a school night to boot. Thus, we said our goodbyes; the last thing I said to her was “I promise I won’t be a stranger.”

Two weeks later, I received another phone call from my father. This was certainly strange behaviour, but I did not think too much of it. What I heard next was unbelievable; my Aunt had passed away from stage four pancreatic cancer. I immediately retaliated with “you can’t be serious, father! We just saw her, she looked fine to me!” But despite my ignorance, the pieces of the puzzle connected. The shaved hair, the frail body, the sudden visitation; she knew she was going to pass away, but she wanted to see us one last time. But you know, even though I was in such a state of denial, such a state of agony, I shed not one tear. Now this was not because I was holding back, I knew I was in immense pain; I just couldn't bring myself to do so. She was an incredibly strong woman, with the most positive outlook on life; She always told me “life will always provide you with positives and negatives. I told myself that I must make this event into a positive as well. Therefore, I am beyond grateful she took the time to instill that positivity within me, to wash away the darkness housed within the past and create a positive out of it. Not once, not once did she remove that smile of hers from her face when we last saw each other and I guarantee she is still smiling to this day.

So I am asked “how do you keep such a positive demeanor?” My answer shall be as follows: “so long as my Aunt smiles, I will too.”

Thank you for everything, Auntie. 

This might seem weird to say, but people sometimes say to me “how do you keep such a positive demeanor? Even if something bad happens, you’re always so positive about it!” The first thing that always comes to my mind is “huh, I’m really not sure,” but I believe it’s about time I give a serious answer.

It all began with my elementary school days. I was staying with my father and his side of the family primarily. My father was a financial dad, nothing more, nothing less; that’s why I call him a “father,” he really was not a “dad.” To be frank, the only thing he provided me and my other 5 siblings this false reality that he had a strong sense of family; that it was our mothers holding us back from our true potential. My brother Nickolas being the eldest of the group, he was the first to tell us that our interpretations of father were wrong. I obviously denied this, I felt as though father was the rock, the backbone of our family. Nick told us “don’t worry, you all will come to realize what type of man your father is in due time.” As much as I want to believe he was wrong, he was absolutely correct; solidifying my interpretation of my father as fiscal and a divider. With this shocking revelation, I rarely felt a sort of connection with my family. This constant division between families would shroud me in a dark state of mind, bringing about distrust and lost dependence on anyone.

Yeah, this was my young life. I really tried to commit to a reconnection and relationship with my father’s side of the family, but my efforts would yield the same result every time. I was shut out of everything I wished to be included in. If the family was congregating and laughing, I was told to go somewhere else. If my dad was to watch me, I’d just be locked in the house. My only safe haven in which I felt someone would talk and connect with me was at my grandmother’s house. Grandma and Auntie would always be present and they truly provided me an outlet where I could finally express my thoughts and feelings. They never once told me “you talk too much” or “shut up” or “play outside or something,” like my father and the rest of the family had. Instead, they greeted me with open arms and actually looked pleased to see me! For once, I actually felt like my presence was not a burden, not a hindrance to someone else. I felt like I belonged. Knowing I talk a lot, they would always tell me that it was a sign of intelligence, always listening to what I had to say. In response, they would tell me seemingly infinite stories from when they grew up, how times have changed, what life lessons they learned. I had finally, finally accepted at least somewhere in the family.

Fast forward to 2017, fifteen and full of acquired knowledge from these two mother-like figures. Though mainly focused on high school and grades, I received a rare phone call from my father (how exciting). My brother and I were to be taken to my Aunt’s house for a short visit, seemingly out of the blue. This would mark the first time I saw her old, tan house in my life. My aunt looked different from the years past, she was skinny and her hair was really short. I remember telling her that I liked the style change! We spent time talking about my future and If I would uphold my promise to her that I would give her 25% of my paycheck when I reach my career goal (this was a promise I made back in elementary school, so of course I told her “yes!”). It really was a short visit though, as we ate and chatted for only about two hours or so; My father had some work he had to do and it was a school night to boot. Thus, we said our goodbyes; the last thing I said to her was “I promise I won’t be a stranger.”

Two weeks later, I received another phone call from my father. This was certainly strange behaviour, but I did not think too much of it. What I heard next was unbelievable; my Aunt had passed away from stage four pancreatic cancer. I immediately retaliated with “you can’t be serious, father! We just saw her, she looked fine to me!” But despite my ignorance, the pieces of the puzzle connected. The shaved hair, the frail body, the sudden visitation; she knew she was going to pass away, but she wanted to see us one last time. But you know, even though I was in such a state of denial, such a state of agony, I shed not one tear. Now this was not because I was holding back, I knew I was in immense pain; I just couldn't bring myself to do so. She was an incredibly strong woman, with the most positive outlook on life; She always told me “life will always provide you with positives and negatives. I told myself that I must make this event into a positive as well. Therefore, I am beyond grateful she took the time to instill that positivity within me, to wash away the darkness housed within the past and create a positive out of it. Not once, not once did she remove that smile of hers from her face when we last saw each other and I guarantee she is still smiling to this day.

So I am asked “how do you keep such a positive demeanor?” My answer shall be as follows: “so long as my Aunt smiles, I will too.”

Thank you for everything, Auntie.

Friendship--Aniya

 

“ Friendship isn’t about who you’ve known the longest. It’s about who walked into your life, Said “ I'm here for you,” and proved it.” (Rodenhizer) Friendship has always been something that us humans have had to understand ever since birth. As we grow up, we are given lessons about how to care for other people and be nice. This has been introduced to us as the phrase, “being a friend.” As years progressed, we have been given misconceptions on what friends should be like. These misconceptions include letting our friends have “fun” by making bad decisions, seeing our friend every day, and which person we’ve known the longest will be our friend forever. However, friendship isn’t about that, therefore, what is friendship ?

Looking at the definition, we can comprehend that friendship is a commitment of caring about another’s well being and a desire to be in interaction with them rather it be every two days or only seeing them once a month. We can also see that friendship is a mutual trust, respect, compassion and love for another person whom we share interests with. By being able to acknowledge that friendship is about having a connection with someone emotionally and mentally, we can see that those misconceptions are indeed false. We often have an issue when people call us out when we are in the wrong, however, in order to be a good friend by definition, doing this is showing that we respect our friend enough to tell them that what they are doing is wrong. Another misconception that has been proven false is that we need to see our friend almost every day in order to have a friendship with them. Although, some people can go years without seeing their friend and can still have that connection with the person and care about their well-being. The last misconception that was mentioned was about the duration of knowing the person means that you will be their friend forever. However, studies have shown that most people don’t keep the same friends from middle school and they also don’t keep the same friends from highschool. Knowing this, we can see that the duration of friends doesn’t matter and that recent people that have come into our life can have the same connection and maybe stronger from those who we’ve known for a longer period of time.

“ Friendship isn’t about who you’ve known the longest. It’s about who walked into your life, Said “ I'm here for you,” and proved it.” (Rodenhizer). Friendship has been introduced to us ever since we were little. As we have grown up, we have been given lessons on being a good friend. However, misconceptions in the word “friendship” have been introduced to us, making us lose the true definition of what a friend should look and act like. Through research we have discovered that friendship is a commitment of caring for another’s well being and a desire to be in interaction with them rather it be every two days or only seeing them once a month and a mutual trust, respect, compassion and love for another person whom you share interests with.

Work cited

Law, Vicky. “4 Myths About Friendship Nobody Ever Tells You About.” ​Thrive global,​ Originally published on Medium, 5 July 2018, https://thriveglobal.com/stories/4-myths-about-friendship-nobody-ever-tells-you-about/. ‘

Rodenhizer, Samuel. ““ Friendship isn’t about who you’ve known the longest. It’s about who walked into your life, Said “ Im here for you,” and proved it.”” ​Quotation celebration word press​, Unknown, 7 November 2016, https://quotationcelebration.wordpress.com/2016/11/07/friendship-isnt-about-who-youve-known- the-longest-its-about-who-walked-into-your-life-said-im-here-for-you-and-proved-it-unknown/.

uknown. “Friendship.” ​good therapy​, uknown, 3 June 2020, https://www.goodtherapy.org/blog/psychpedia/friendship.

An Easy Step-by-Step Guide for Sewing a Quilt!--Rumaan

 

For those of you who love to craft or try something new, quilting is an option you might want to consider for your next project. I first started quilting over a year ago with Mrs. Lofgren. She taught myself and many others how to sew! Unfortunately, she retired, but she gifted me a sewing machine and fabric, so that I can create my own quilt in the beginning of quarantine. I was so excited to start my own project and make a quilt all by myself. I’m still in the process of making it, so this piece was the perfect opportunity for me to write and share with the class about my current project.

Step One:​ The first thing you will need to do is gather quilting materials. What you will need:

• ●  Sewing machine

• ●  Rotary cutter/scissors

• ●  Cutting mat

• ●  Thread

• ●  Needle pins

• ●  iron/ironing board

• ●  Seam ripper

• ●  Ruler

• ●  Fabric (100% cotton)

• ●  Batting (filler)

• ●  Walking foot

• Step Two:​ Plan out your quilt pattern  

  
  
  

• 
  

• An easy beginner quilt is the 9-square quilt. It is 6 blocks wide and 8 blocks long. Each ​block has​ ​nine 4x4 inch ​squares​ sewn together in a 3x3 pattern. You have to sew 48 of those ​blocks and 432 ​squares​ to make a 8x6 quilt. I know it sounds like a lot of work, but cutting the fabric is the only time consuming activity. Once you start sewing, time will rush past you. You decide how you want the pattern to look like i.e. colors and shapes, but in this case, we are using squares.

• 
  
  

  
  

Step Three:​ Cut your squares
With the ruler and cutting board, cut your fabric with the dimensions above. It is important to measure out the exact measurements, so that the quilt will be symmetrical and it is easier to sew pieces together. Be careful when using a rotary cutter because it is very sharp and can cut through multiple pieces of fabric. If you are uncomfortable with using a rotary cutter, then fabric scissors is an option, although it will take longer and your fabric might come out uneven.

Step Four:​ Sew your 4x4 squares together with a 1⁄4 inch seam allowance into a 3x3 block (9 squares). This is important because all of your pieces will be the same size and be sewn in the same way. If needed, there are stickers to place on your sewing machine with a 1⁄4 inch seam allowance that will guide you when sewing.

Step Five:​ Press down your seams with an iron after sewing pieces of fabric together to make sure they are flat. Pressing your seams makes it easier for you to sew multiple pieces together, and makes sure the whole quilt will be flattened in the end.

Step Six:​ After you have sewn together 48 blocks, plan out your design and sew all of those pieces together in a 8x6 pattern. You use the pins to make sure your stitching is straight when sewing big pieces together. Don’t forget to press your seams when you are done!

Step Seven:​ Sandwich your filler with the top layer you sewed together, and a back layer from fabric of your choice. The back layer can be a solid white sheet, or multiple pieces of fabric sewn together to make one whole sheet.

Step Eight:​ Quilt!
Use a walking foot on your sewing machine, so that your stitches pull through and your fabric doesn’t get stuck. Sew all sides of the quilt together, and since we used a square pattern, sew the quilt in straight lines row by row. This creates a grid and it binds all of the layers.

Step Nine:​ Trim the sides of the quilt for any excess fabric sticking out. You want the quilt to look as even as possible, so if the fabric wasn’t cut straight before, now is your chance to make it all nice and even.

Step Ten:​ Make and sew on the binding
The binding is fabric sewn onto the sides of the quilt to tie everything together and close off the quilt. It's the thick part of your blanket that surrounds all sides. This can be any fabric of your choosing. Once you are done with the binding, your quilt is complete!

Now that your quilt is complete, you can choose to gift, donate, or keep it for yourself!

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year--Valerie

 

Christmas is the “ most wonderful time of the year” or so they say. Unfortunately, many are not as able to spend it with their loved ones or in a warm and loving environment. For me, Christmas time means the smell of pan de dulce and dipping it in chocolate Abuelita, it also means the eating of tamales, Ponche, and ​Buñuelo’s​. The “recalentado” that follows after the day of Christmas, and the reunion of family members. Looking back, I always had a great time with my family but the highlight of my year would always be during Christmas time. I think people tend to not value the significance of having a family and having a close relationship with them.

As we grow older, a lot of times we forget the importance of Christmas whether it may be the celebration of Jesus’s birth or just a time to gather with family and friends to celebrate a holiday, at the end of the day we lose sight of why Christmas is so celebrated. Although, I might admit that opening presents is something I look forward to like many of you, having a tradition of some sort represents Christmas to me. Anything from putting cookies and milk out for Santa or elf on a shelf to watching movies, it is all done with family and close friends.

Making memories is something that happens constantly without us knowing so, which makes it so much much more memorable when we look back. The makings of memories are what many people hold on to that defines Christmas for them. Even if throughout the years things have changed or family members have moved away or have distanced themselves, the memories you may have created is something to remember them by and cherish in ways you may not be able to anymore. The reality of things is that no one knows when the last time will be the last time.

Another great thing about Christmas is the decorations and lights. My dad and I have a tradition of putting up the lights together every year, and my mom and I decorating the inside of the house together. As a family we go pick out the tree and decorate it together, all the while listening to Christmas music. Going to see the houses with lights is also one of my favorite things to do. Seeing the different inspirations and ideas people have that go into decorating their houses is unbelievable great. Whether you go see the lights with family or friends it is always made out to be a good time. It is said to be that the purpose of hanging Christmas lights is to lift spirits during dark times. It also encourages other houses to put up lights and decorations.

Furthermore, I feel as if Christmas has taught me so much in the aspect of family and learning to appreciate what I have. Giving back to others who are less fortunate is something that is needed especially for kids. A lot of us are lucky enough to have a roof over our heads, warm food, and clothes. Other kids and families are not as fortunate. If it means making one family or kid have its best Christmas ever or experience even a little of we have for one day, I know it is worth it. You see, many of us, including myself, sometimes don’t think about what others go through especially during this holiday season, that we forget to give back. I have learned to be thankful for what I have, and more than that, I learned to appreciate the small things. In the end, Christmas is one of many people’s favorite holidays and mine as well. It is

also the season to listen to Christmas music and give gifts. In any way that you celebrate Christmas, I hope you enjoy every moment of it and make many memories.

Words translated:

• -  Recalentado: The reheating of Christmas ( or any food) dinner

• -  Ponche: Traditional hot fruit punch

• -  Buñuelo: Fried dough covered in sugar

• -  Choclate Abuelita: Mexican hot choclate

Silent Screams--Gaby

 

The year was 2017, I was in the 8th grade. A few days before anything happened at all, I was already feeling sick. My mom had taken me to urgent care because I wasn't feeling how I usually did whenever I got sick, and they misdiagnosed me. The days went on, and we went to my aunt’s house for a birthday where I was still feeling the same way, however, it wasn't as bad. But the next day was when everything went downhill. It was a Monday, and the entire 8th grade class was taking panoramic pictures. After every flash, I felt worse and worse, and I began feeling dizzy. Once we were done, we were told to walk to quad but as soon as we began walking out, I felt very different and weird. I couldn’t feel the left side of my body, but it felt as if that side of my body had fallen asleep so I wasnt that worried. After each minute, everything just progressively got worse; I couldn't talk, I felt like I was walking like a zombie, and I had a horrible headache. I didn't want to go to my teacher and ask to go to the office because I thought I would be okay, but my friends told me I should, and I became worried. I tried to explain to her but she couldn't understand me so my friend had to explain to her what had happened. I tried to keep calm, but she grew worried and gave me an apple because she thought maybe I was feeling that way since I haven't eaten breakfast, but sent me to the nurse’s office regardless. The walk to the nurse’s office felt like forever and it was such a struggle to get there. Again, when i got there, i tried to explain to the nurse but she couldn't understand me either. She proceeded to call my dad, and as I was waiting I began to feel super nauseous so I went to the bathroom and next thing I knew, my dad had arrived. The entire car ride home felt hazy and I just felt super tired, so as soon as I got home, I fell asleep. My mom hurried home so they could take me to the hospital, and I can't really remember anything after that. My vision felt clouded and I kept passing out and my parents kept telling me to stay up. Once we got to the hospital, I began vomiting and they did a scan on me. I'm not sure how long we were there for, but they gave me my medicine, and then we went home.

The day I finally got taken into the hospital to stay, my mom’s sister, husband and kids were visiting from Nevada. I am assuming I went into the living room to go tell my mom I was feeling horrible, but I couldn’t. The only thing I was able to say was “I don't know” whenever someone would ask what was wrong and “Mom/Mama” whenever something was wrong; Even then, all it was super hard to talk and I kept mumbling. I kept feeling as if my tongue was about to fall off and I tried explaining that to my parents multiple times but it was very difficult. I started freaking out and then suddenly fell onto my mom who was sitting on the couch and then my vision went black again, and I passed out. I woke up downstairs to my entire family with me and the paramedics trying to figure out what was going on. They were not a big help, and were being very rude. They began to ask me basic questions, like my name, age and the grade I'm in. When they asked my age, I told them I was 12 when i was 14, when they asked what grade I was in, I said 6th grade when I was in the 8th. As they were about to leave, they told my parents they couldn't do anything for me because they told my family I was over exaggerating and was only having a panic attack, so they didnt take me with them into the ambulance. Shortly before they left, I passed out and my parents began to carry me into their car since the paramedics didn't want to take me. My parents tell me that I began to seize and that's when the paramedics realized that there was truly something wrong. I don't really remember getting into the ambulance, but I remember waking up in it, looking at one of the paramedics, and then passing out again. I woke up being lifted out of the ambulance, and rushed into the hospital.

Once I was there, they took me into my room and were asking me the same questions that they did at home. I was trying so hard to answer them but I couldn't, and they got upset and told me they’d come back once I wanted to talk to them. I tried being as helpful as I could but I simply could not. It felt as if I was in a coma because I could hear everything, but I could not respond or move. The day they took me into my second room, they ran some tests and scans on me and fortunately, there was nothing wrong. It took them a few days to figure out what was wrong. Once they did, they came into my room and told me I had Meningitis, but it was non contagious so everyone around me was safe. That same day, they did a type of treatment or surgery on me and they put me to sleep for it. I woke up because of how nauseous I felt and I tried telling them and they were once again, being rude about it and told me that they only gave me a few seconds to try to get anything out of my system. Luckily, after that treatment I began to feel better but I still wasn't feeling the best. I spent maybe one more day at the hospital and then was able to go home.

My memory of the whole experience is very choppy and hazy; The only memories I have of the entire thing was feeling immense amounts of pain. Usually, I have a high pain tolerance, but this was nothing I had ever felt before. I would constantly cry at the slightest amounts of light being shone into my room or noise going around my house because I would get the absolute worst migraines from it. Before I was sent to the hospital, my family tried anything and everything to help me feel better. One of my aunts even considered having a witch try to heal me. Once I returned to school, I got a few people tell me that they thought i had passed away.

Though this experience was so long ago, I had never even thought about how truly traumatizing it was for me, let alone for my family. They constantly ask me how I felt during the whole thing, but I can never answer because I barely understood what was happening to me. Writing about it, I realize how terrifying it is because in a way, I'm looking at this unfortunate event through a different perspective. Looking back at it in a new way, I have realized how thankful I am for my family and to not take anything for granted. I can easily say that this has impacted my family and I’s lives in many ways in which we could not even explain.

Cosmic Insignificance--Nora

 

The human race is, undoubtedly, cosmically insignificant.

Our great, vast universe is 13.8 billion years old. This is a timescale that I, personally, can’t even begin to comprehend. 13.8 billion years. Only roughly 66 million years ago did the prehistoric carnivorous beasts known as dinosaurs roam freely. Before that were the marine arthropods called trilobites, about 540 million years ago. Even the earliest known ‘living’ thing we have evidence of are microbes found in rocks, 3.7 billion years ago. So what was earth in that 10.1 billion year difference?

Albert Einstein said time was just an illusion. While I could dive into physics theories and the theory of relativity, I don’t think that would be much fun at all. Simply put, time is relative. Time varies for everybody depending on the speed at which you are going through space. For example, take the stars. Every night we look up to see the wondrous balls of burning gas in the sky that emit a light. The Big Dipper is approximately 125 light years away. That means, the light emitting from that star took 125 years to reach our eyes.That means we are seeing light sent out from before we were even born. Crazy, right?

NGC 4845. That’s the name of the galaxy located approximately 65 million light years away. So if we applied what I said earlier, about how the light we see from this galaxy took 65 million years to reach our eyes today, do you know what that means? That means we are seeing the earth for how it was 65 million years ago, when the first T. Rex went extinct. Light speed is a finite thing, so it works in the opposite direction: if by some miracle intelligent life form existed out in the Milky Way and they happened to look at Earth, they would be seeing it in the time of the dinosaurs (assuming, of course, they had a very very very big and fancy telescope that is able to see 65 million light years away... although if they’re aliens maybe their eyes are just built different than ours. Who knows.)

We humans and our tiny lives are so insignificant when it comes to the vast majority of space. We are but a tiny tiny speck in a massive, forever expanding universe. We are a microscopic blip in the time and space continuum. So many long abysmal stretches of geological time when nothing existed, and when everything existed. The words that come to mind to describe us humans are insignificant. We are living through the 6th mass extinction (the Holocene extinction) that is being caused by us. By climate change, by the extinction of animals due to human activities, deforestation... In a couple million years from now, will there be a new race? Will the cycle of life continue? Will our planet become engulfed by the sun? Are we the last species?

If we are so insignificant in this massive universe, then why do we try so hard to understand the impossible? Why do we try so hard to please and impress others? In order ​to be significant (when considering it on a cosmic scale) one must be objectively valuable to either someone or something, and since we humans do not value objective value in that sense, it follows that there is no such thing as cosmic significance. This is my definition of insignificant. I guess what I’m trying to say is:

Live your life. You only have one.

The Humble Submission of One’s Ego--Natalia

 

Every human is a unique, morally distinct being, yet insignificant in the most grandiose way. Most seem unaware of the universe’s indifference toward not only our individual but our collective existence. The delusion that we hold some privileged place among the stars is humbly dismantled by the realization of the true scale of reality. As a young child, I was always skeptical about the world, specifically how I came to even be in my house and be in my body. I had come up with my own theory, that I was a doll in a dollhouse and someone was in control of all my movements. However, at those times I lacked perspective and had little understanding of not only the world but all that is outside of it. Up until a few years ago, I did not question much about anything, it was easier to say “everything happens for a reason” and forget about whatever happened. I’ve grown out of that mindset (kinda) and now have stamped in my head the idea that life lacks inherent meaning and, in an existential sense, when confronted with the scale of the universe, human existence dissolves into complete irrelevancy.

As scary as these ideas might be, it’s important for the individual to confront them to truly grow. The realization of how minuscule humanity truly is is one that most seem to avoid encountering. However, consider the following: There are an estimated ten thousand times as many stars in the cosmos as there are grains of sand on the planet earth. To which the following question can be posed: If I were to go to the beach and remove a single grain of sand, then come back the next day, would it feel like a different beach? I’m sure many have heard of this analogy but many have also not comprehended the massive scale on which our existence plays a

microscopic role in terms of everything outside of our planet. To put humanity’s scale in a temporal sense into perspective, “there once was a star in which clever animals invented knowledge. That was the highest and most mendacious minute of “world history”-- yet only a minute.”. On the scale of a year-long cosmic calendar, modern humans have barely been around for a single minute. For all we know one day the sun will die and we will die and nothing will ever change again. That’s literally it.

It’s completely understandable that one might experience a sensation of existential dread after confronted with these ideas. However, when examined from a different perspective, this nihilism can actually be perceived as more optimistic. For example, if life has no inherent meaning or purpose, then it sets the individual free to dictate their own purpose in life. After all, your life is the only chance you’ll ever get to truly live. Your life is all you get to experience, so then it's the only thing that matters. We get the privilege of being here and experiencing the universe, right before our eyes. Life is not about death, it’s about living, just as the point of a song is not the end of the song. You don't wait for three minutes just to hear the last crashing chord. The point of life is being present in the now and living every moment to its fullest. Don’t stress over something that won’t affect you in the future. Worrying about what others might think of you is a waste of time, honestly, people are concerned more with themselves than you. And at the end of the day it doesn’t matter what one person thinks, everyone perceives you differently, therefore more than one version of “you” exists in the minds of everyone you know, no one really knows the full you, only you do. So go do whatever you want, do something a little risky (as long as it won’t hurt you in the future) a little adrenaline doesn’t hurt, don’t be shy to try something new, do what you need to do to make yourself happy, but without harming others.

Cosmically speaking, we are tiny. Cosmically speaking, we are a whisper in the dark. Cosmically speaking, we are fragments, dust particles, the smallest of atom formations. Cosmically speaking, we are unshielded. There is nothing but a thin atmosphere between us and the stars and the black holes and the solar flares. We are part of this enormous whole and barely kept from leaping off our own planet. Domestically speaking, we are young, and a part of this universe. Cosmically speaking we are the thing that makes the universe exist at all as it observes itself.

Good Grades--Diane

 

A quiet child he was. His life seems normal to him. That is until he realized it was not. He was a good child; almost perfect. He had good grades, paid attention in class, did what he was told, except he was quiet, passed off as shy, he was seemingly like a soldier. After all, he figured that as long as he was a good boy nothing bad would happen, he would in theory be left alone. A way for no one to ask questions or meddle in what wasn’t their business. He was innocent when he had this revelation however; the kind that would unbeknownst cover him in darkness. Fear and anxiety accumulated within him, but in his words just stress. After he found out, in those younger days, how broken his family was, he went often to friends and ate with them instead.

Who would ever suspect in a million years, that the shy good smart boy with new shoes started to dread the thought of the holidays and missed going to school. For him it was a lonely time, even his birthdays.
He did indeed have a celebration on his birthday week but when it came to the actual day, evening would come and he would spend it in his room in darkness. After all, his mother had left back to her house to be with her new boyfriend while his father was out being a drunkard. At these moments he would often think it would’ve been better if he wasn’t born.

But how could he, how ​dare​ he say that and ask for more. He had new shoes, a bed, a roof over his head, was well fed, smart, and got everything he asked for despite being “mid-low income”. So how dare he ask for more; however, that does not take away from the fact that he wanted a family more than material possessions.

It was easier to ask for a new drawing tablet instead of complaining about it. And so he sat drawing his sorrows away because after all he wasn’t in poverty, an orphan, in a 3rd world country, and he knew just how beautiful this earth is (he didn’t want to leave). A fool one would say, for not saying how the boy felt, ​no​, he is patient and headstrong.

One day he realized the darkness and how much fear was in him. The fear of hearing people yell, the fear of people fighting, the fear of having the doorknob of your room shook, the fear of being questioned, the fear of going with your mother, most of all the fear of being left alone.

He was anxious, scared, filled with sorrow and his way to alleviate it was, thank the gods, to delve in his studies, a straight A student, high GPA, honors and AP, with a helpful school lunch program, no room for anything else in an attempt to become a different breed than his family and un-associated...but not ​alone​. It failed.
He knew that if he didn’t change. things wouldn’t get better so he started to release his crying soul, to accept everything but the most he could do was move past it and have it locked in his mind because every time he saw a happy family he would be reminded, loneliness, and would break inside. Time, time was what he needed, time is what he got, he counted the years for his time to leave, after all that was his purpose for his grades, a university far away.

Then, one day suddenly, an epiphany, he grew up, learned things he didn't know, and came to terms with everything around him. He wasn’t as alone and he created himself to be and he found it, forgiveness, acceptance.

He is older now, at peace and happy with himself; unfortunately, his past trauma of loneliness and fear has not been so easily overcome. Yet he is okay with it. After all, everyone has their

own stories with a sorrowful plot and are entitled to feel a certain way because of it. This particular one just happened to be his, oppositely he now felt lucky once he started hearing the stories of others.
He would, now, in his newfound power do everything to prevent these situations from happening to another.

Bitter Night--Edana

She had gotten news of his return and people asking if she wanted to go visit him, she received questions from her best friends if she shivers in panic when she crosses the same bridge he left her on, but she doesn’t because every time she goes there, she yearns to return; to sink beneath the water and see for herself what was it so desperate and compelling about the waves that made him believe he could throw her love away there. She would never reach out to him; she would rather get an extra hour of sleep every night than stay up looking at his old pictures that she still had of them both. After all, he probably has forgotten all about her, all about their childhood together turned innocent romance or maybe he never cared enough to recall. But it was all a long time ago anyway, he’d become somebody who he never was when she knew him, someone who she’d never associate herself with ever again. The way she so easily was able to hide her feelings for him was always a mystery; maybe because she never stuttered in front of him when he took his seat next to her, never turned away from shyness when they locked eyes however each time, she’d hear his voice and time would stop itself for her, and suddenly she saw flowers in a field of dirt. 

He was no different, if only he could have realized it sooner or at least before his forever started falling down leaving him in his own wonder if she would want him now; but how could he know that one day he’d wake up feeling more only for it to be too late. She burdened him with the guilt of not returning her feelings, and slowly backed away from her life after being there for years. There was nothing else that she could do but love him more and pretend she didn’t notice until she did. He took the road up to her house only to catch her traveling the other way, stopping to see her with a faint smile hiding the dark cloudy storm above her head. He tried to speak, but something beneath the ground grabbed his feet telling him to keep only a gaze on her because he was afraid that her walls would be painted grey again from the thought of that night. He knew there was not a storm he could ever survive without her, she was his best friend after all and with a river running through his mind, he made the move he knew he shouldn’t have dared to, but he also knew there wasn’t a river he could cross without her hand in his so with that he reached for her. “Let go.” She continued her journey, but he didn’t have the courage to hold her back. And when he found himself stranded on the very same road he had taken to reach her, he wished he’d waited a day longer, because that’d be better than knowing he would never see her again. 

The Real Her--Paola

 

Julia’s last words to her first love were, “And even if we grow into our separate ways in the future, I’ll be okay with that because as long as you want that and you’re happy, that’s good enough for me. That’s good enough for me forever.” He had stopped responding to her letters and she grew worried seeing that he was in such a perilous situation and there was a distance thousands of miles that separated them. The nineteen letters were all she had left. It may have been an extreme delay in time, but with the accumulation of each letter, she came to know Jaime very well. And with that, her love for him grew and deepened.

But, it was evident that she had changed. With him, she didn’t know how to behave and therefore who to be, so she said and did things she wouldn’t typically say or do. Hence, with the passage of time, she didn’t know how to separate being the ideal girl for Jaime from her friendships and familial relations. But, as she did everything in her power to be perfect even under the most imperfect circumstances and dysfunctional connections, the acts began to fade into each other and became a part of her. But Julia didn’t know that because at this point, it felt natural.

The days without word from him turned into months and finally, into a year. He was supposed to be granted a few breaks, yet she never received a visit, let alone a call. She decided that he truly didn’t love her and that she had to move on with her life.

Five months later, she had gone out with her best friend, Margot. They roamed their local mall when a boy had approached her. She had seen him around school and remembered that he was from the trailer park and did not have good intentions. His name was Liam.

“May I take you out, gorgeous?” Sure, he sounded charming, but it derived from nothing more than lust.

“No, sorry.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure I’m obligated to provide you with a reason,” Julia teased. She continued to

walk past him with Margot grinning alongside her, but was immediately stopped by Liam who ran up in front of them.

“Wait. Come on. Just once, and if you never want to see me again, then okay.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to.”
However, Julia was taken aback upon hearing, “fine. I’ll just lay here until you say yes.”

The street had been empty. No cars in sight. And Liam laid down in the middle of the road, waiting for the response he desired.

“That isn’t going to work, you know.”
“I don’t know. It just might.”
“I don’t appreciate you mocking me and for that, I don’t intend on helping you out.” “Okay, have a nice day.” She walked away with Margot, seemingly bothered, but

suddenly slowed her pace and turned around. He was still laying there. She continued to walk, until she heard a car approaching. She and Margot immediately ran back.

“Get out of the street! What’s wrong with you?” The car continued without having seen him, yet he stayed put.

“I told you. You have to go on a date with me.”

“Just get up!”
“Not until you say it. Say you’ll go out with me.”
The car was coming closer. “Fine, fine I will!”
“You will what?”
“I will go on a date with you!”
The car was so close, but Liam was able to jump up and run onto the sidewalk in time.

Although breathless, he was able to say, “meet me at the park by school tomorrow at three o’clock.” He smiled and was soon on his way.

The next day, Julia arrived at the park. In the distance, she saw him. He had been sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket next to him, and stood up when he realized that she had been approaching. He smiled and told her to sit. “You look really pretty,” he told her. They spoke and laughed for hours. And to much of her surprise, she enjoyed her time with him.

Soon enough, they could not go a week without seeing each other. And then, days. He wasn’t the trouble-maker that people said he was. At least not with her. He treated her as though his world revolved around her and cherished her as though she were the girl he was looking for his entire life.

One day, Liam arrived at her house with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. She received them with the widest smile, and embraced him while trying to make sure she would remember all of the details from that moment. But, Liam made his intentions perfectly clear that day.

After laughing at a few of his jokes, he became serious and said, “if I’m being completely honest, I wasn’t taking you and I seriously. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t think we would continue talking after two weeks.” Julia’s heart dropped. He continued, “and I don’t think this talking thing is working out anymore. I’m sorry.”

She sank into her seat and couldn’t look him in the eyes. Her face felt hot and she, helpless. What would she do now when she had already fallen so irrevocably in love with him? He then took her hand and looked into her eyes, saying, “it’s not working out for me because I want you to be my girlfriend. Will you be my girlfriend?”

She didn’t say a word, but she nodded her head while tears swelled in her eyes and she smiled. He hugged her and whispered, “you inspire me to wake up in the morning. You don’t understand. I felt emotionless before I met you, but you changed me. You bring so much happiness to my life - my life that I can’t imagine without you in it.”

She could do nothing more but smile. He moved back so that he could hold both of her hands and look into her eyes. “You’re perfect and I love you.” He kissed her on the cheek, stood up, and extended his arm towards her. She took his hand and before she knew it, they were dancing under the stars in her backyard as he slowly hummed the song ​Isn’t she lovely​ by Stevie Wonder.

Days later, they had gone on a walk in the afternoon and were on their way back to her house. Upon seeing a figure she knew sitting on her porch with flowers in his hand, Julia froze in disbelief that Jaime had returned to her. In utter shock, she questioned, “Jaime? What are you doing here?”

“I came back to you. That was my promise, wasn’t it?” Liam interrupted, “who’s this?”
Julia responded, “this is Jaime.”

Jaime looked uneasy as he asked, “well, who’s that?”

Julia uncomfortably admitted, “this is my boyfriend, Liam.” She looked intently into Jaime’s once hopeful eyes that now were not.

“No! You told me you would never stop loving me! You promised me that.”

“Well, you never wrote me back and you didn’t come back to me when you said you would! What was I supposed to do, wait for you? This has happened too many times even before you left. I’m tired of waiting. I feel like that’s all I ever did in our relationship! And I wasn’t going to sit there like a fool wondering what I did wrong when I know I didn’t!”

“We weren’t allowed to send any more mail for some time, but I came back like I said I would. I haven’t given up on us. I still won’t.”

“I’m not the person you fell in love with. I don’t know who she was and I don’t want to go through that again.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He looked over to Liam and punched him in the jaw. Liam shoved him into the floor, about to strike him, until Julia pushed him off. When they stood up, Julia got in between them before they could hurt each other further. And although both of them genuinely loved her and she knew it, it didn’t matter because in the end, she knew who her ​true​ heart had belonged to.

Julia never danced at parties, because she felt embarrassed and judged. She always said what she thought others wanted to hear instead of what she wanted to say. She tried to soften her laugh because it was too loud, too obnoxious. She tried, she tried, and she tried. And because of that, she cried, she denied, and she lied to herself. But with ​him​, she didn’t have to do that. She had found and embraced herself with​him,​ and never wanted to lose herself again.

She looked over to Liam and gave him the look that said it all. He smiled and sighed with relief.