I've started on a novel..

#97...A Long Way To Go

What an interesting topic in Women's Health Magazine...the healthiest cities for women! I guess I never put much thought into the fact that a change of location would make a tremendous difference in the "healthy" factor. Philadelphia ranking #97 is just awful. C'mon Philly...get your act together.

http://www.womenshealthmag.com/health/best-cities-for-women-2012#axzz1mtQTQxMm

My Best Friend, Michael

It was fall and the leaves just started turning colors. It was a Friday morning and my alarm, regrettably, started honking at 7:30 a.m. I must have hit snooze at least six times until the inevitable eight part knock confronted the outside of my door. I drug myself out of bed, while yelling, “Holdddd onnnnn!” at the loudest volume I could mustard up for that hour of the morning.

A pair of black sweatpants, flip flops, and one red hooded sweatshirt later, I swung my dorm room door open to find him wearing those same brown sandals, dark skinny jeans, and that snug maroon waffle knit shirt I had become accustomed to. He had a heavy, yet friendly, knock I could finally recognize after three years. He greeted me with that smile that always assured you things would work out, even when you thought otherwise. If anything, that smile was genuine and will probably fix many hearts in the future.

He wasn’t impatient or irritated in having to wait for my beautifying session to finally conclude, as many men would not have the patience to wait around. He called it “spending quality time”. These days, quality time seemed to be at the top of his list. He embraced me with those muscular arms that wouldn’t harm a fly, but always made me feel safe and protected. His tight squeeze woke me up instantly and prepared me for our inevitable brisk walk to our Marketing class.

Every word he spoke was confident and his tone made you embrace his every syllable. As we talked about the essay due that morning, his eyes rarely strayed away from mine. He was the king of eye contact. Sometimes, I thought he saw my thoughts in my eyes before I even said them out loud. I can’t say that didn’t make me nervous at times. He was my best friend, who wasn’t much for conversation, but when he spoke, people listened.

He wore his heart on his sleeve and spoke louder through his actions than through any of his words. Behind that tough and poised attitude, he was vulnerable and a little broken. I knew him inside and out, probably more than he would have liked. He kept a secret I saw glimpses of, every now and then. He missed her soft, motherly touch and her voice that just made his whole world right. I could spot that longing gaze upon this face a mile away. I can only imagine the way his heart ached when thinking about his life without her.

After this past summer, he hugged tighter, laughed more often, and cherished life at a higher level. We never talked about his secret, but rather, only talked about all of mine. That’s what’s great about best friends, I guess. You don’t have to talk about it for it to be real or understood.

Sunset of Heartbreak

My sister, my friend
Do you see the sunset
Full of an array of colors
Reds, yellows, and even some browns

The sinking of the sun
In the beautiful November sky
On the day of thanks and fulfillment
Becomes a shadow of my sinking heart

My sister, my friend
I hurt, I pine for him
The touch of his soft blond hair
The gentle colors of his eyes

I can remember the shape of his fingers
The tattoo on his right arm
His unique laugh that was always louder than those around him
His presence that made me hold my breath every time

Memories of the good are overshadowed
By the thoughts of all the shooting, the pain, my fears
Blood covering his head, arms, legs
Killing of those who are innocent and good

My sister, my friend
I miss him every second of every day
Knowing that he is serving his country
Does not bring comfort nor any ease to me

I regret not sharing with him
Every thought that has ever entered my mind
I have told him that I truly love him
Could I have told him in how many ways

My sister, my friend
I recognize his motives for fighting
I understand his outlook on life
I realize that my thoughts are always with him

As I stand here with you
My sister, my friend
I finally realize that he, my love, my all
May never come back to me, not now, not ever

Just Needed You

Our life, our memories
Flashed before my eyes
That night.

I never thought
I would feel that afraid
To hear your mother’s voice.

“Patrick has been in an accident.”
I repeated those words in my head
Over and over and over again
The whole way home.

I can’t remember my drive back to you
The longest three hours of my life.
I can’t remember entering the hospital
Or even where I parked my car.

I hugged multiple people
Including your sister and mine.
I don’t seem to remember the words they spoke
Or even how long I was in the waiting room.

I only cared about where you were
And what condition you were in.
I needed to see you
And find that you were okay and alive
With my own two eyes.

You were unconscious
And unable to speak.
I could barely breathe
When I heard those words.

My eyes were glassy and wet
I think my hands were even shaking a little.
I sat quietly, with my face in my hands
Thinking of what was to come, what already happened.

I spent the next twenty-four hours
Holding your hand and talking to you
Explaining that I needed you to wake up, to speak, to move one muscle
Jesus, I just needed you.

A Work In Progress...

That moment replayed over and over again in my mind. I remember how it started and I definitely remember how it ended. Word for word. In my head, I had two versions of the night: what actually happened and what should have happened. I know what I should have said. I could have been more understanding or tried to recognize how you felt. But would that have helped? Probably not. We still have completely different opinions. We always have. We always will.

I still can't believe you left, right in the middle of the argument. You know I hate that. That's probably why you did it. Next came two hours of me talking to myself, vowing I would never speak to you again, and that we were utterly incompatible. Just down right wrong for each other, in every way possible.

Yet, I find myself walking that oh so familiar stone path, looking for your sulking self. You go to the same place every time, to think and figure things out. I think you forget how well I know you and how much I remember. Gosh, we met in college. It feels like forever ago. You always returned to this same place, where we began. The place that knew us both, inside and out. The place that brought us together and simultaneously, drove us mad at times. I always truly loved this place.

I hear a faint voice that I soon realize is a voice stringing together musical lyrics. It's you, I know it. Sometimes, you sing in the shower and think I'm asleep, but I'm always listening. I don't know why you are so embarrassed of your singing voice. As I walked towards the sound, I recognize what you're singing...our song. Our song, since college. Since that rainy night of listening to the radio and cuddling in your dorm room. I loved that song most when you sang it. I don't think I ever told you that.

These Days

Boxes, cardboard boxes, everywhere. Boxes piled higher than I ever imagined they could be. Lily looked out through the glass door, with one hand on the door handle and the other in her pants pocket. She wore those denim overalls and that black tank top, with that same messy bun on the top of her head. She bit her lip, while trying to keep her already glassy eyes from completely shattering. I never saw her like this.

That old Jeep ran just like it always did, I guess. It seemed foreign to me that day, like someone you cross the street with in the city. The only thing you have in common is your current location. That was the relationship I had with that old Jeep. I hated that Jeep. I was disgusted by the color, the style, and the interior of it. I always felt like a guest at a birthday party when I drove with my dad in that thing. I never knew which radio buttons to push or which temperature to set the seat warmer to. That Jeep was my dad’s best friend, my dad’s companion. They were a pair. I didn’t fit in there. Neither did Lily, nor my mother actually.

The boxes doubled in number, yet still perfectly fitting into that Jeep. The irony of it all made me chuckle under my breath. It was like the Jeep knew this day was coming. It seemed like the Jeep was preparing years in advance for this occasion. Maybe the Jeep saw all the signs pointing toward today. I know I did. I guess my dad could have warned the Jeep, since they spend every waking hour together. That could have been it.

I remember the days of swinging on the swings in the backyard or splashing around with our friends in the swimming pool. Everyday, the house was filled with afternoon sunshine and a slow drifting breeze. Opportunity and love filled the air, and no one dared to question it. My mother would prepare orange juice and oatmeal for Lily and me on the cold, frigid mornings. Those were my favorite mornings. In the summer, though, my mother would cut up fruit in the linoleum kitchen that kept the house smelling of watermelon and strawberries for days to come.

When did those days slip away and turn into “these days”? These days, fruit would go bad and the culprit to this act always needed to be found and punished. The pool was never clean and turned green, out of spite. The lawn looked terrible, almost as if a second grader was set loose on the tractor for a joy ride. Our home wasn’t bright anymore. Instead, it was a dark dungeon of angry souls.

I was tired of “these days”. I wanted the old days back. I had turned into someone I didn’t even recognize. I stood watching and examining my father as he schlepped box after box to the Jeep. Every once in a while, he stumbled on the sidewalk, but quickly regained his step. He would curse at the sidewalk, stating it was uneven and never ended up the way he would have liked. My father always had an excuse for everything, whether true or untrue. I focused on how his beard was trimmed in a perfect circular shape, but his eyes were fiery and intense. He cared most about all the things I was taught to put on the back burner. Appearance meant everything to him; even more than Lily and myself.

It was a warm day in June, but I still felt cold and uncomfortable. I leaned against the Jeep, wondering what it’d be like once it was truly gone. My hate for the dark blue vehicle resonated from my body, almost chipping away paint from its body. The dislike I have goes deeper than what the Jeep looks like or how its gadgets operate. I’m jealous of that Jeep and how it knows my father better than anyone. They are together all day, everyday. The Jeep knows my father’s every move and how he’ll react to situations. The vehicle never questions his motives or why my father is heading in a certain direction. The Jeep allows my dad to live the carefree, no-questions-asked life...the life he always seemed to want.

I focused in on my father, with a deep, heartless glare in my eyes. The day I hit my first home run, scored my first volleyball ace, received my first "A", called home with my first college story, and even had my first broken heart created a slide show throughout my mind. Those are days that I will never get back; the days when he wasn’t there. Big life moments weren’t his forte, obviously. He had more important "business" things to do, or so he said.

The Jeep’s hatchet was suddenly slammed closed and I was revived from my daydreaming. The motor started, with a brisk grumble. As quick as the driver’s door opened, the door closed loudly. Further and further the Jeep drifted from the house, catching a spot in the far distance.

The sky was blue, with not a cloud in the sky. I started to feel a breeze and even hear the singing of bluebirds in the backyard. Lily’s hand grasped my right hand, half holding on for dear life and the other half showing gratitude. Our eyes never left the direction that the old Jeep traveled in. I never truly knew that old Jeep and never would. Somehow, I feel like it never wanted anyone to really know it either.