Writers Mind Anthology

the writer’s mind

Spring 2012

An Anthology of Nonfiction Essays

TABLE OF CONTENTS Taylor Brown, “My Daddy, My Hero” 2-3 Jane Blaus, “Internal Combustion” 4-6 Alyssa Stetson, “Your Best Friend” 7-9 Alexandar Kuhn, “Nor’easter” 10-16 Samuel Fine, “Pedal, Dammit!” 17-20 Carly Corrado, “The Interior of a Computer” 21-23 Alexis Bermudez, “Graduation” 24-25 Kevin Schultz, “Unanswered Questions” 26-29 Brittinee Garcia, “My Voice, Buried” 30-33 Jessica Lochel, “Baby Girl” 34-36 Carly Rothenberg, “My Love of the Eyes” 37-39 Kellie Larson, “Bonkie, My Rag” 40-42 Kacey Terzini, “The Five” 43-45 Jamie Mahoney, “Journey to Motherhood” 46-49 Kayla Ewing, “The Hike” 50-53 Joeanna Landis, “When Found” 54-56 Brittny DeCotiis, “Hawaiian Adventure” 57-60 Kelly Sullivan, “On Lobsters” 61-63 Jaclyn DiGabriele, “A Letter” 64 Heather Meyers, “Maybe Not All Promises 65-67 Are Meant to be Broken”

the writer’s mind | 1

MY DADDY, MY HERO

though he knows I could never forget the time we

Taylor Brown

spent up there.

As I stare off out onto the highway, some of my

The provider, the smartest man in the world,

fondest memories come back to me. I’m suddenly six

who has the safest arms, the greatest superhero, the

years old again, sitting in a boat with my family on

hardest working man, the man who gave me life, the

the calm serene lake upstate New York.

one who held my hand, who wiped the tears from my eyes, the man who bandaged my cuts, the one

The air smells cleaner, and it’s almost like the sun

who scared the monsters away, the man that tucked

even enjoys shining here more than it does back at

me in every night, the tickle monster, who always

home. Its bright yellow rays glisten on the peaceful

made me laugh, whose feet I danced on top of, who

lake reflecting a faint image of the trees surrounding

taught me how to ride a bike, the one whose

it. I’m holding my tiny yellow Tweety Bird fishing

shoulders I sat on, who helped me with my

pole my grandmother bought me. I’ve had it for

homework, who taught me right from wrong, the

months now, but for the first time the spool is filled

man who taught me to drive, the one who believed

with fishing wire, and a real hook is attached to the

in my dreams, who motivated me to attend college,

end. My dad steers the boat farther out onto the lake

who wants the best for me, who is my hero, and my

looking for a deep spot to fish at. The motor stops,

father all in one.

and we drift a little, but we have found our spot, and

My first experience living away from home was not what I pictured it to be. I did not feel free from my

parent’s control, or

excitement for

I am overfilled with joy. All I want to do is catch a fish, but first I needed to learn how to do that.

the

opportunities in front of my face. It was not the thrilling adventure I imagined I would experience. It wasn’t any of these things; instead I was homesick, and miserable. I wanted to transfer from Rowan University in N.J., and go to community college just so I could live at home. My parents forced me to stay away at school, and it was not until three weeks into September that I got my first chance to go home. My dad picked me up, and for the next two-hour car ride home we just talked.

“You know it seems like just yesterday I was helping you with your homework, and now I’m picking you up at college,” my dad says to me.

“I know I can’t believe it myself,” “Your mom and I were just talking last night about how we should go up to the cabin again. You remember how much fun we had?” he asks, even

“Now watch me first, Tay,” my dad says to me.

“Take your right hand, and hold the rod. Your pole is a little easier to use, you just have to press that white button. Now bring your arm back over your shoulder, and get ready to cast your line out. See how my arm is held back, but away from hurting anyone?”

I shake my head in agreement, but on the inside I’m dying to cast my line and catch my very the writer’s mind | 2

own fish, and I’m not listening to what he is telling

isn’t hard to do. He weighs maybe 2lbs, but he was a

me.

giant in my eyes. He is bigger than any fish I had He casts his line out, says, “Whatever you do,

seen in person, and I am beyond proud of myself. I

do not throw your pole in the lake, hold the pole

was the same as my father when his father taught

tightly.”

him how to fish on this very lake. My Dad looked at

I tilt my head at him, giving him a glare for even thinking I would let go of my fishing pole.

me with eyes of amazement. He could see himself in me.

“Now you reel in your line. You don’t want go too fast because then a fish won’t bite it, but if you go too slow your just going to grab the plants on the bottom of the lake. It might take you a while to catch a fish, we could just be in a bad area so don’t get upset,” he tells me, bracing me for the letdown.

I shake

my

head

in agreement again,

impatiently waiting for him to tell me to cast my line.

He looks at me, and can see the excitement pouring out of me, like a dog waiting to be fed .

He finally says the words I had been waiting to hear, “Ok Tay, you can cast your line out now.”

I jump from excitement, and quickly cast out my line barely thinking about what he just told me.

Somehow I don’t mess it up, but my line doesn’t go nearly as far as my dad’s. Nonetheless, I am so excited to reel in my line, praying there is a fish at the end of it. Meanwhile, my mom and dad cast their lines out as well, and my sister reluctantly joins in.

She squints her face as she reels in her line, terrified to see what she has pulled out of the lake. As my line gets closer to me, I can see a little fish attached to my hook. He’s a tiny green fish, desperately trying to squirm off my hook, terrified of what I’ll do to him.

“I caught a fish, I caught one!” I scream from excitement.

Everyone in the boat quickly looks at me in amazement. I reel in the last of my line, and sure enough a baby bass is attached to my little tiny fishing pole. I proudly pull him into the boat, which the writer’s mind | 3

INTERNAL COMBUSTION

twenty-five hundred degrees Fahrenheit. When a

Jane Blaus

flame from a stove appears blue, it is because the hydrogen atoms in natural gas produce an energy

The tip of a strike-anywhere match contains

radiation equivalent to the color blue. When a flame

enough phosphorus to ignite against any frictional

appears to be yellow, green, purple, and pink, one

surface. Hold the match-stick with the thumb and

may be seeing the ultraviolet black-body frequency

middle finger of one hand. Make sure it's held tightly.

spectrum, if, one

Hold the match head between the thumb and middle

were, perhaps, a

finger of your other hand, so the match, when pulled

bumble bee. The

from the stick side, slides through the fingers against

perceived glow of

the grain of the fingerprint. If your fingers are dry

pink

and rough, it will light.

flames can also be

When I used to smoke cigarettes, I preferred

caused

or

green by

the

matches. Maybe it was my men and their fancy

extreme dilation of the pupils after ingesting

matchboxes that came with their fancy cigars. Maybe

hallucinogens. Hallucinogens can also account for

it was the Outlaw of Josey Wales. I liked to hold the

the belief that one isa bumble bee.

match in between my pointer and middle finger and press that same thumb over the head, so, it would

Hold the match-stick with the thumb and middle finger of one hand. Make sure it's held tightly.

light in the palm of my hand. That’s how the

Doug took the bottle of sake from the top of

cowboys did it—their hands like votives, keeping the

the refrigerator, where he had hid it from us earlier in

flame safe from the wind. They never wasted a

the day, and put it on the tiny kitchen table. Matt,

match.

Tom, and I scooted our chairs in, and inspected the

I remember him and that sweet sulfur just the

foreign treasure while Doug continued cooking. We

same. But, when I think of Tom, it smells woodier

all shuffled around every time anyone moved. The

than a match. It’s a bonfire, in that rusty metal thing

entire kitchen was about the size of a full bathroom.

on wheels, or it’s a campfire in a sandy pit. I’m

Using the oven or stove guaranteed that the

rubbing my eyes for a few minutes before I realize

temperature of that room went up at least twenty

I’m standing in the smoke path. Wild Turkey

degrees. Yet, this was our favorite and only meeting

guaranteed that we gracefully rotated this dunce

place. If someone wanted to open the refrigerator

position throughout the night. But, there was no hat.

door, one person had to get up and move their chair.

There was no shame.

The same went for opening the cabinet, doing the

The glow of a flame depends on the temperature

dishes, or using the trash can. We had no choice but

of the black-body radiation emitted from soot, gas,

to designate ourselves duties based on where we

and fuel particles. A dull red flame, like the end of a

were seated. Somehow I always ended up being trash

lit cigarette, burns at about one thousand, three

girl. Whoever sat across from me was expected to

hundred degrees Fahrenheit. The colors you may see

hand out beers. I was expected to dodge the caps

in the flames of a camp fire look orange or white

that got tossed over my head and into the container

because they burn between two thousand and

behind me. It became second nature. If we ever had

the writer’s mind | 4

a party of more than four people, we took our dinner

with as little legal trouble and physical injury as we

and drinking outside, and sat around the fire.

did.

Something about couches and televisions threw us off. A waxy paper sleeve, full with cherry blossoms, hid the gold characters etched into the black bottle.

We took the sleeve off and realized there were only Japanese characters. There were no nutritional facts, ingredient lists, or specified alcohol levels.

“How do you know this is good sake? Or, if it’s even sake?” Matt asked.

“Oh, I know. This Japanese lady who works there told me it’s the best,” Doug assured us.

Tom grabbed the bottle and held it a few feet from his face. He looked down at the bottle, cradled in his palm, pursed his lips, and squinted to better see the small writing.

“Yeah, I learned some Japanese when I was in the Navy,” Tom said to the bottle.

“Look. Right here…” he pointed.

“The only people who’d believe you’d ever learn Japanese… would be the U.S. Navy. You are the enemy as far as they’re concerned!” Doug joked.

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking at them both.

“Well, when I joined the Army, Tom joined the Navy. And, let’s just say he sort of went AWOL… but when they found out, they didn’t ask him to come back,” Doug said.

“Yeah, I didn’t like the Navy and, the Navy didn’t like me,” Tom said.

“He started so much trouble, regardless of how much they punished or arrested him, that they figured it was just better for everyone if he left,” Doug said.

“You’re the only guy stubborn enough to get the

“This says: Golden Showers Rice Wine.”

U.S. government to void a four-year contract of

Tom popped the cork cap out and put his nose

service,” Matt laughed.

up to the bottle. He inhaled deeply and paused with his eyes closed, as he assessed the wine.

“Void?! They didn’t void it! They set the damn thing on fire! I was such an embarrassment to the

“Well?” I asked impatiently.

United States Navy that they didn’t want any record

“Smells like piss!” Tom shouted as he slammed

of me ever being affiliated with them!” Tom boasted.

the bottle down on the table, laughing.

“Meanwhile, Doug here gets sent to Germany to

Before he could try it, Doug grabbed the bottle

work like a damn slave for another three years,” he

and stood it in the middle of a pot of water on the

added. “That’s what being a respectable young man

stove.

gets ya!”

“You’re supposed to heat it up first.” he said.

As our laughter simmered down, we all looked at

“We’re all going to try it together.”

the last sips of our beer bottles and then looked at

Doug’s declaration was mutually understood. But,

the stove.

his subtle leadership always seemed to perfectly

“Are you sure it’s supposed to be boiling?” I

balance us out. It was like an unspoken agreement,

asked. “I think you serve it warm, but not…

that Doug would always remain the logical problem

scalding,” I joked nervously.

solver, and that Tom would forever be the

“We’ll pour the shots and let ‘em cool a little.

spontaneous problem starter. I think this harmony

Trust me, this is how they do it at the restaurants,”

was the only reason we had as much fun as we did…

Doug said as he lined up four little glasses on the

the writer’s mind | 5

table. He held the bottle with a dish towel and seemed to take his time with each pour, like he was preparing each of us a little cup of tea. The clear glasses fogged quickly and thick smoky steam came off the top of each one. We all stared at them for a second before mentioning dinner.

two of anticipation.

“Yeah, wait a bit, Jane,” Doug said. “I mighta made it a little too hot.”

Tom seemed un-phased by the whole thing. I looked at him questioningly.

“Yeah, I’m used to Doug,” he explained.

“When’s the pasta ready?” I asked. I hoped we could eat, or at least set the table before we tried to touch those bubbling shots.

“The guy hangs off bridges all day in eighty mile-an-hour winds. He can’t feel a damn thing.”

Doug turned in his chair to see the timer. “Nine minutes,” he said.

“In the mornings, I’ve seen him chug an entire pot of coffee like it was a glass of water,”

Matt pushed a glass in front of me with his

Matt laughed.

fingertips. Doug’s calloused fingers passed out the

“Scalding hot coffee!” Tom clarified.

others. It was like he was wearing leather gloves. I

“Alright. Alright,” Doug said as he moved the

wrapped a napkin around mine, so I could hold it.

We all looked at each other and raised our glasses.

“To bringing towels next time we drink in a sauna!” Tom toasted.

pot off of the hot burner.

“How did you like it?” he asked.

“Gee, I don’t know, Doug.” Tom stuck his tongue out.

We laughed and brought our sweaty glasses to

“Are my taste buds black?”

our lips. Tom threw his back and so did Doug. I just

It was up to me to approve of the sake. I could

held mine… as the thick, sour steam flooded my

hold my glass with my bare hands now, but, I still

nostrils. Its vapors tasted the way I imagine a moldy

stared at it a while before picking it up. Then, I

packet of Theraflu would taste. I imagined myself

swigged the hot wine as they watched and waited.

putting the glass down and wincing. I felt the tender

“Taste like scorching piss?” Tom asked.

blisters that would first become apparent when I

I paused to think about it. I had nothing to

tried to speak. I saw my sister’s leg when she spilled

compare it to in my head except cheap boxed white

bacon grease on herself when she was twelve. I felt

wine, or maybe, sweet vinegar.

the long sting that stayed with me for two hours,

“No,” I said.

after I tazed my own arm when I was drunk. I could

“Just… very warm piss.”

feel the sharp, fresh pain every time you roll over on

Matt passed out new beers and Doug passed out

your sunburn when you’re trying to sleep. I tried to

spaghetti. The sake went back on top of the

imagine how that would feel internally. I can’t even

refrigerator. It would soon re-appear when we got

drink my tea until after it has cooled. I put my glass

snowed in for a weekend with no other booze. But,

back on the table and decided I had nothing to

for now, it was a good enough decoration-- waiting

prove. Matt and Doug both ran for the sink and got

to lure another curious guest.

glasses of water, trying to seem calm.

“Jesus

that

was

hot!”

Matt

said,

finally

acknowledging the issue, after a minute or

the writer’s mind | 6

YOUR BEST FRIEND

sparkled like pearls. At the moment it was unknown,

Alyssa Stetson

that

you

would

become

inseparable.

You

communicated everyday, but your friendship went It is just sitting there at the base of the decorated

beyond words. You had your own language; a

Christmas tree that sparkled in the family room. It is

language that only a handful of people knows. Some

wrapped neatly in decorative paper and it is the

days, in-depth conversations were held. Other days

largest of them all. You try to glance at the nametag

the conversations were silly and carefree. You had

that is taped to the box. It is addressed to your

created a world of your own.

brothers and yourself. Naturally, the three of you opened the present together last.

When you would be having a bad day, she would be the first to go to. Your worries were still there,

You have two younger brothers; Michael and

but for the time being they were diminished.

Andrew. It has always been a family tradition to open

There were moments when we had our ups and

presents together. It is your favorite time of the year.

downs. Everyone goes through breakups. It happens.

You count, “One, two, and three” and begin to

There was a time when you absolutely despised her.

tear the wrapping paper off the package.

You didn’t want to have anything to do with her.

At this moment, you have no expectation of what

In sixth grade, you continue your schooling at a

the present is. It could be a pool table. You imagine

middle school. You make new friends, have new

it is something for the family like a soccer net or an

teachers, and create new experiences. There is no

air hockey table. You could see yourself with your

time for your old friend. It is hard trying to balance

brothers playing in the backyard or the basement

your new schedule around to make everybody happy.

with either of these gifts. You turn to see your

You worry that someone will become unhappy with

parent’s facial

you, and feel betrayed. However, they have to

expressions.

Your

parents are

practically falling off their seats in anticipation. Every

understand that this is what is best for you.

year as you open your presents on Christmas

It was about a month into sixth grade when you

morning your father records your reactions with his

sat down and had a talk with your father. You were

video camera.

sitting at the kitchen table contemplating how you

The paper is tearing further and further with each

were going to break the news to him. Going back

pull. The paper is screeching, while you throw the

and forth in your mind trying to figure out what it is

paper onto your living room floor. Three pairs of

that you really want. You finally decide to share your

little hands are scrambling around the box, brushing

thoughts.

off the remaining wrapping paper. It is hard for you to open the large brown cardboard box. Therefore,

“Dad,” you say. “I think I want to take a break from playing the piano.”

your parents help to open the mysterious present.

Your father replied, “What made you come to

You hold your breath waiting for the gift to be

this decision? I will support you if you have a reason

revealed.

that backs up your decision.”

It was Christmas morning, when you met your

You explain to your father that by starting a new

best friend for the first time. She was sitting in your

school, your workload has increased tremendously.

living room near the Christmas tree that glistened.

You are overwhelmed and lessons twice a week is

She had a beautiful complexion of ebony and the writer’s mind | 7

too much. At this point in your piano career, you had

piano felt like hours. It is too beautiful to play. The

been playing for four years, and the music selections

black coating the covers the piano shimmers under

have been starting to bore you. Your favorite type of

the bright stage lights. The top is open for the sound

music to play is modern, the Beatles, Elton John, and

to escape.

other popular artist’s music. However, your piano

You hear your name being called from the

teacher has been making you learn classical music.

audience. You could make out the voices of some of

You believe classical music is beautiful, however,

your friends. You smile knowing that your friends

modern music is much more relatable.

and family are supporting you. The palms of your

Your father understands that there are different

hands are sweaty as I place the sheet music on the

experiences, however, if you make a decision you

piano. You shake your hands out before placing

have to have reasoning behind it.

them on the smooth ebony and ivory keys. You take

But you always worked through them. In the beginning, your relationship was a contradiction.

a deep breath and start playing. Your nerves vanish instantly.

Sometimes your mother would forbid you from playing together. She claimed that other things needed to be done before we had our play date.

During the moments of argument, you took a break, and you were completely content with that. As your relationship grew stronger, you didn’t give up on each other. You learned many lessons from her, and will always keep them close.

You have been through many obstacles together.

We accompanied each other on the stage for the first time. You are waiting back stage for what seemed like hours. Waiting for the announcer to call your name. You are nervous, yet excited. You have performed in front of an auditorium full of people before, but this time was different. It is your senior year in high school, and the first time you are performing at Old Bridge High.

The announcer for the night calls your name, and that is your cue to walk on stage. The stage lights are blinding. You try not to squint as you walk out to center stage. The audience is silent, and the only sound you hear is the clicking of your heels. Dressed in a black pinstripe skirt and a white buttoned down shirt, you take your seat at the grand piano that is waiting for you. The few seconds it takes to reach the

The melody of “River Flows In You” fills the auditorium. You have played this song a thousand times before. You could even play it with your eyes closed. This time, however, you pay careful attention to the notes on the pages making sure you play each one as written. You impress yourself, as your fingers are moving fluidly across the keys. Your heart is racing faster than the tempo of the song.

But you must slow down to finish the song with a slow ending. You wait a few seconds holding the last few notes for effect. You wait just a little bit longer, and then you stand from the piano bench beneath you. A roar of applause fills the auditorium. You can’t help but smile. You are proud of yourself for playing an incredible piece of music for yourself and for whoever came out to watch the talent show. You face the audience and take a bow. the writer’s mind | 8

At this very moment, you realize that your high school years are coming to an end, and you have worked so hard throughout the past years to get to where you are today. You are proud of yourself for all of your accomplishments. Before leaving the stage, you take your sheet music and exit stage right.

Your best friend has been with you now for fourteen years. She has witnessed good times and bad times. You have accomplished many things together. You wouldn’t trade her for anything. You know she is fabulous. You know she is talented.

With one last tear, a piano is revealed. In December, under the Christmas lights, you played when you were eight, the ebony and ivory levers, the ones that broke when you needed them most, the ones that unlocked the sound, even though you sometimes hated it, whenever you opened the cover, the keys, make the song, create the melody, sparks sound, like pearls, too rare to touch, as we peered into the box, for fourteen years, in the morning, everyday twice a day, sparkled.

She is your piano. It might be odd to think that your best friend could be a piano, but it’s true. You have spent countless hours creating beautiful compositions together. It is a bond that nobody could break. You have never seen anything so beautiful. At the moment it was unknown that you would become inseparable. She had a beautiful complexion of ebony and ivory. You can’t touch it.

It may break.

“Would you guys be interested in learning how to play?” asked your father.

“Really, we can learn?” you replied.

You didn’t think that it was possible for such a small person to learn how to play such an instrument.

the writer’s mind | 9

NOR’EASTER

for a time, and as far as my mind is concerned she is

Alexendar Kuhn

another face in the crowd. She is unremarkable in the fact that she is one of many. Indistinguishable in a

A study once claimed to find a correlation between

field of similarity.

the migratory patterns of birds and the birth rate of

I am also bound, as so many are, to my

humans in an eastern European country. The

hometown. To my girlfriend of three years, Sam,

investigation claimed that when the birds progressed

with whom I end every conversation with “I love

in a southward direction, nine months later there

you.” I mean it. Every last part of me means it when

would be a spike in the amount of babies born in

I say it, which is indisputable. She was my first and I

nearby hospitals. The researchers could find no

believed her my only, despite the hardships we may

reason, but it soon came to light that in the colder

have had.

weather, as the birds flew south, they took shelter on

Southern New Jersey would be assaulted with a

rooftops with warm air emanating from chimneys

number of severe snowstorms that year, early in the

and vents. The weather was cold, and the birds were

winter of 2010, the worst of which would come in

not the only creatures searching for and creating

late January. Driving people indoors, the snow began

their own warmth. Human beings were drawn

to fall heavily at night. The flakes were large and

together and the birds knew it, even if the people

heavy, crisp as they hit the ground, immediately icy

themselves didn’t.

and perilous. The snow was remarkable when it first

In December 2010, amidst all other news, goes a

began to come down. Although nearly every

largely unnoticed story. For the first time in recorded

individual sheltered in their rooms, peering out their

history, a snowflake is found to have an identical

windows, had seen snow before, they still sat

twin. Growing up as children we were told to be

enthralled. This is an unusual feature of humanity –

individual, as snowflakes are, to be ourselves and that

that we can continue to be amazed by something we

if we could accomplish this small and simple goal

see from year to year. It comes so infrequently and

then nobody could every truly be like us. We were

so fleetingly that when we have the chance to gaze

special and unique. But in the early winter of 2010,

upon and revel in it once again, we lose ourselves in

science ventured to tell us that against all probability,

it.

an infinitely small collection of water molecules looked like, and for all intents and purposes was exactly what something more than forty years ago had been. Down to its very atomic makeup, humanity’s ultimate metaphor for individualism had been erased. As snow was no longer as unique as it once seemed, neither were we.

A year prior I am introduced to a girl. It is my freshman year of college and I am meeting more people than I can keep track of. I do not immediately remember her smile, I cannot remember her name

the writer’s mind | 10

The first time I kissed Sam, it was not furiously

She agreed. We would see each other tomorrow.

passionate as we're led to believe our first kisses

And the day after that. And the days after that. We

should be. Rather it was simple and unremarkable in

would see each other consecutive tomorrows for the

the many senses of the word. Not even a month after

best part of three years. Before I went to college.

we had become whatever it is that two people are

Before I finally felt what I hadn't in that moment.

when there is a mutual attraction between them, we

It was still snowing when it happened. Since the

stood outside the school in which we had met and I

early morning the small flakes and the large hunks of

had quickly pressed my lips to hers. They had not

frozen water were flying through the air, tumbling to

stayed there for long. After the briefest of contact, I

earth, and they showed no signs of stopping. But in

had withdrawn.

that moment they stopped, and we couldn't see

I was scared, really, of rejection, of disgust, of

them, or anybody around us. Our eyes were locked

retaliation. It was a shallow act masquerading as a

and there was so much of everything between them;

loving one. As quickly as I had leaned forward, I was

everything except physical space.

walking away. The longest moment wasn't in the kiss

I lay on my back in the cold wet snow and my

itself but rather the looks we exchanged when it was

clothes were damp and freezing from the hours I had

over. Sam's face read of surprise and disappointment,

already spent outside. I had long ago lost the feeling

while my own must have shown fright and timidness.

in my toes and fingers, my face had been bitten by

I wasn't confident in what I had just done and as my

the winter air all day, and seconds prior to falling on

face sprung apart from hers, our eyes met. It was a

my back I my body had been so tired. But now my

mistake.

heart was beating, my pulse was quickening, and I

The next three and a half years would hinge on the

could feel my warm blood flowing back into my

next move either of us made. We stared blankly,

extremities. It happened fast and unexpectedly, but

neither of us wanting to act first. We didn't fall back

like the storm that had threatened to arrive the night

into the kiss. That should have said something about

before, it brought such a welcome change.

the nature of it all, it should have told me that it was

Maegan had fallen on top of me and she hadn't yet

wrong, if it didn't feel right enough to continue, if it

breathed. I inhaled slowly, letting the icy chill cool

couldn't light up the darkest abscesses of my brain

my lungs, and the air wasn't so much let out of me

with activity, then why was the moment afterwards

but drawn out in a gray, wispy cloud that quickly

doing just that; why was the task of figuring out what

disappeared into the blackness of the night. A

to do next sending nervous jolts of electricity

shivering tingle sped down my spine and my whole

through the innards of my skull. Abruptly, the silence

back shook. I was taking in more irregular breaths.

broke and time started moving again. I had said

This was it.

something.

She let out a similar breath to my first and it ran

Without the slightest indication that I had spent an

down my face like water from a faucet. It warmed

eternity hurriedly flipping through words and phrases

my nose for a brief second, then the hot, wet air

stockpiled in my head that would fit the moment, I

turned back into water from vapor and the chill on

had simply said, "Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

my face returned. Our eyes had never moved from each other’s and in hers I could read anxiousness,

the writer’s mind | 11

anticipation, and what looked like fear. I saw it

had been was the forecast of a blizzard that had yet

because I knew entirely too well that my eyes held

to arrive.

the same brief glint of doubt and fright. I knew I was

I left the situation confused, but not in regard to

scared of what this moment meant. For me it meant

what had to be done. I knew that if I had these

that I was prepared to leave everything I knew with

feelings for Maegan, if such a brief encounter could

Sam behind and move on to Maegan. I still don't

leave me so excited and lustful, then I couldn't stay

know what it meant to Maegan that day, although I

with Sam. It would be the second time I would leave

imagine that it was doubt in me. Doubt that I

her, and really all I could hope for was that this time

couldn't be everything that I had appeared to be up

I had a better reason.

until that point. Neither of us had said a single word

I sat alone outside, under the bare bones of a

in that moment, or really ever, about what our

sickly oak tree. I wondered what I would say. I didn't

feelings might be, but all of a sudden we knew

imagine a scenario in which this conversation would

everything we needed to.

end well. My hand had been forced though. We had

Our faces hung together in space-time for the

been drifting apart. We were separate people. It

longest instant either of us had ever experienced.

wasn't anybody's fault. It was the natural course of

Like parallel mountainous horizons, our noses grazed

things. Thoughts flew by my head, like hail, solid

the cheeks of the other and our lips trembled and

enough to see but I could only grasp them

pursed in the cold, neither of us wanting to seek the

temporarily before they dissolved in inadequacy. I

treacherous warmth that hovered mere millimeters

couldn't use any of these reasons; they weren't fair

away. Simultaneously, we tore our faces away from

either. I had to either compose from my own head

the neutral zone they both occupied and hurried to

the truth or share with the girl I had loved for three

stand. With wobbling knees we righted ourselves feet

years a falsity. Neither of which were immediately

apart and stood for all to see.

fathomable. Before my mind, for the second time,

It felt at once like we had spent all night in that

could cobble together a string of words that wouldn't

spot. It felt like we got to the open field, had fallen

turn our friendship sour, I had already dialed her

down, and spent hours laying there. Really it was just

number.

a few seconds, a fair portion of a minute, a jumble of

She lived too far away. I couldn't have done it in

ticks on a clock. It was still too long though. Our

person. I told myself both of these things and

friends, the people who knew us better than anyone,

assumed they were related. Really the only truth was

the people who knew what reservations Maegan had

in the second. She picked up and answered happily

and what obligations I had, were looking at us. They

because she knew it was me, and she hadn't heard

were waiting, as we were, for something to happen.

from me in quite some time. I answered her. My

They didn't get anything though, because they were

voice was already shaking.

looking for an act. But there hadn't been one, we

She had experience with these phone calls; we

didn't need one because the two of us knew what

both did. She knew immediately that something was

had happened in that moment. We had committed to

wrong, and asked. I swallowed. You hear about

act, even if we couldn't then. Our friends’ eyes

people's throats closing up and their skin getting

searched for the storm of a kiss, but really all there

clammy and their tongues going dry, but it was all

the writer’s mind | 12

happening. It wasn't a cliche anymore, it was very

heart. My stomach flew at the idea of new possibility,

real, and I knew all the ugly details. I knew

but sank at what I had lost in achieving it. I was

everything about the situation. I can't imagine what it

ready to moan with sadness and weep with

must have been like for her in that moment. Not

happiness. I didn't know what to do, so I answered

knowing anything. Having me, silent, on the other

her questions the best I could, and when she was

end with only the notion that something was very

done, she asked if there was anything I had neglected

wrong. Probably the only good thing I've could have

to mention about why it was all happening. I said no.

ever done was tell her the whole truth in that

Scared of the truth, I told her I would always be

moment. But I didn't do that.

I told her that I had grown up. And that she had

there for her.

"I know."

too. We had matured past the point we had been

I asked her if she wanted to talk some more.

familiar with when we had met as children. We were

"No, not right now I don't think."

adults now. We had been shaped, by each other, into

I told her that I would talk to her later, that she

adults. We had become wiser, more critical, but also

would see me around. Soon. But she wouldn't. I

more knowledgeable of what makes us happy. We

didn't buy into my own lie, and of course she didn't.

were headed in two separate directions in life and for

It would then be a while before either Maegan or

a long time we had been trying to deny it. But we

myself knew what to do. We knew what we could do,

couldn't do that anymore. It wouldn't be fair to each

and we knew that we wanted to, but there still

other or ourselves. I said all of this and so much

existed hesitancy. We were still scared, I think, about

more and I didn't stop. I didn't want to give her time

possibility of it all. We needed to make sure that it

to rebut what I was saying and argue that it wasn't

wasn't a mistake, that we hadn't just fallen into the

true because it was to me.

most convenient position for either of us, but that

The wind had died down. I wasn't cold anymore. I wasn't really anything. In my head she had started

instead this actually meant something and could actually last if it happened.

crying and I was prepared to go into damage control.

We spent our late nights together, sometimes with

But I didn't hear any sobs. I didn't hear any scuffling

others, but we could never truly be bothered to

of the phone's receiver against her face or the

notice their presence. We were too involved in our

clicking of her tears falling into the deepest recesses

own lives to care.

of the speaker. She took a few deep breaths, sighed deafeningly into her phone, and began to talk.

A few weeks after Sam and I had agreed to go our separate ways, I was with Maegan in the brightly lit

She knew it all. I had assumed her ignorant and

lounge of a dorm. We were all sitting on separate

innocent and in that regard underestimated her own

couches, some of us working fervently and others

prowess and her own ability to have matured as I had

listening to music, the din of the television, and the

just said we had. I had done her the most grievous

fans. Quiet but also noisy. As the night progressed,

injustice. In truth, she was much more prepared for

people gradually left, retreating back to their rooms

this moment than I had ever been. The conversation

through another bout of snow the winter had

didn't last all that long after that. As we spoke I felt

brought.

alternating moments of lightness and heaviness in my

the writer’s mind | 13

Maegan still had studying to do for one of her

For what? Why not just say goodbye and

classes, but she had procrastinated too much and

goodnight right then and there? The minute I spent

couldn't muster the strength to make it through a

in the hall dragged on. The lights buzzed above me.

single page of her book. She lay the thickly bound

The wind howled outside. The technology in the

stack of paper on a nearby table and stood. She

walls and the nature outside were more vocal than I

glided over to the couch I was sitting on, typing

had been. And when she finally came back out into

intently, and lay down. Her head was gently resting

the hallway I still had nothing. I stood there and after

on my thigh. Looking down into her eyes, I offered

a second hugged her. This, apparently, would be

to read the text to her.

goodnight.

I remembered the nights of my youth when my

Only it wasn't. We lingered for a second too long

parents would read to me. I would absorb the story

in each other’s embrace and just like we had stayed in

and the characters and the richness of the text itself,

the snow a moment too long a few weeks before, we

but it also endeared me to my parents. It made me

were committed to it. We were locked in this

appreciate them because they did it so willingly and

moment and we wouldn't let go. We couldn't.

so flawlessly. I wasn't looking to be endeared; I was

Her hair smelled incredible. I couldn't move my

simply looking to help a friend. It wasn't really that

face away from the side of her head and her own was

boring either, it proved to be somewhat interesting,

buried deep in the crook of my neck. I couldn't

and I actually probably ended up learning more than

move; I was frozen. Rather than pull myself away

she did that night.

from her, I moved alongside her. My face slid

Eventually though, she grew tired, as many passive

through her hair until I was facing her. She was

listeners would, and began playing with my iPod. She

looking at the floor. I reached my hand up and gently

would choose a song and I would recite the lyrics,

lifted her chin so her eyes met mine. A timid and

proving how well I knew some of the more

shaking breath escaped my lungs before I moved in

embarrassing popular music. I lay down with my

closer.

head close to hers, neither of us falling asleep. We lay there peacefully for hours. It seemed like seconds.

My lips weren't so much pressed against hers as they were just touching them. It was gentle; it wasn't

Slowly, we found our way upstairs. Three flights of

violently sudden but rather careful and even frightful.

stairs and neither of us could say a single thing. I

It was almost as if we weren't supposed to be there,

don't know if we didn't want to or whether we just

like we both doubted the decision we had just made,

couldn't. It had been so long, in my mind, since the

and yet there we stood. Nowhere romantic, not a

night in the snow. Had she forgotten? Did she want

place in which you'd expect to have one of the single

to forget? I couldn't imagine that my entire

most important instants of your life. Rather we were

understanding of my emotions could be reversed and

in a narrow, dimly lit hallway and it was three in the

complicated as much as it was for no reason.

morning.

We reached her door and again, I was speechless. I

There were people ten feet away sleeping in their

handed her the weighty backpack that hung in my

beds. In the time it took our lips to touch for the

hand. She took it from me, heaved it onto her back,

first time their eyes would barely have flickered

and told me she would be back in a minute.

under the blanket of their eyelids. There were people

the writer’s mind | 14

two flights down studying and drawing and watching

blinded to everything except the present. And I

television. A sentence couldn't be written, a stroke

reveled in it.

drawn, or a joke perceived in the time it took for us

I would never really talk with Sam afterwards. We

to commit to the act. There were people half a world

had agreed to be friends; we had told ourselves that

away. Some of them were just waking up, others

we would try to keep something of what we once

were at work or eating their lunches, and still more

were. But I don't think we ever really understood

sat at desks and mundanely wondered when the next

that we came into each others lives so suddenly, as

time something even remotely exciting would

people often do, and that we served our purpose just

happen to them. Their eyes can't have opened, their

as quickly. In a relatively short time, the same friends

tongues couldn't have tasted, and their heavy sighs

who had laughed and cried and spent so many late

would have only just left their lungs in the second it

nights with each other had become nothing more,

took for this to feel right.

and it was really because when we spent the time

These aren't things that I had to observe to know

doing those things, it wasn't really as friends, but

that they happened. In that moment I couldn't even

rather as a precursor to what we knew we were going

tell you what was happening around us. The only

to become. Looking at it realistically, we had our fun,

thing I knew for certain, and still the only thing I can

but we weren't really prepared for the permanence

say for sure, is that we stood there, holding each

we believed ourselves to have.

other, finally kissing. My eyes hadn't even had time

With Sam, the time moved, and we felt it do so.

to fully close. My skin drew in tight; it clenched my

We went through every minute of every day we were

muscles and my bones, constricting them as if in

together and though it felt like it flew by, looking

protest to a cold breeze. The hairs on my forearms

back on it, it was three years. If anything it felt like it

were jolted to attention and they stood, screaming to

was longer rather than shorter. It felt like we endured

escape the prison that my skin had erected around

not only the long nights of arguing but also the days

them. As my body tensed, my mind relaxed.

we believed in our hearts we were enjoying. I loved

Anything beyond these things are a mystery to me

Sam. This is cannot be denied. I spent years of my

for that first time. It was excitement, it was thrill, and

life dedicated to her. But at some point I had to

it was fear. It was a daring new frontier to be

realize that we weren't in love like we thought we

explored. When, at long last, our lips, the same ones

were. It wasn't passionate, but forced. Like our first

that had uttered so many friendly words, the verbs

kiss we played it up. We built it in our minds to be

with loving undertones, the hope-filled adjectives,

something supremely special and meaningful, when

and the nouns with longing and lust, met, it was with

really it was just two children with their lips locked.

fulfillment, like the rider returning to the seat of an

We were kids playing house, and inevitably we had to

abandoned bicycle after a long retreat; it was home,

be called home to continue our real lives.

the same place in our hearts that we had failed to

Diving into the fields of pasty powder either in the

find before in so many others. Like a second

height of their fury or once the storm has died down,

snowfall blankets the diminished luster and dirt-

we always seem to find ourselves within it once

covered slush of its predecessor, I was instantly

again. We move it, we play in it, we work through it, but despite the troubles it poses, we are at once in

the writer’s mind | 15

love with it. It makes us feel young and it brings out what child in us we thought we might have lost. In the open ranges of bright white we are overtaken by snow blindness.

In Inuit tribes, the people will wear special goggles to shield their eyes from the ninety-percent of ultraviolet radiation that can be reflected in the snow.

In the right conditions, the things we see every day, the same things we write off as normal and take for granted, become as luminous as our sun.

the writer’s mind | 16

PEDAL, DAMMIT!

continually putting your bike and yourself further

Samuel Fine

along the trail towards the limits of your vision, you could use a reminder that you still have legs. In the

In the eyes of too many able-bodied people, a

words of French cyclist Jens Voigt, “Shut up legs!” is

bicycle is a mere toy that becomes completely

a good thing to say to yourself if it gets to be too

obsolete upon acquiring a driver's license. However,

much. Eventually, as you push yourself more, your

when used properly, a bicycle can be a means of

lungs begin to burn in places where you didn't know

entertainment and exhilaration in a way that most

your lungs extend to, such as your lower-middle back

people wouldn't expect, or be open to.

and sides. And that pain is just great because more

Mountain-biking, a.k.a. “MTB”, is also a form of

lung means more riding. Also, the form fitting shorts

self-imposed BDSM. The bondage begins in the

and jersey will feel awkward at first, especially if you

parking lot by the trailhead when you change out of

ride to the trails from your house down your town's

flip-flops and ratchet-buckle your feet into cleats

main street. Guys might like to whistle and joke

with fiberglass soles. You grip the handlebars with

“Nice legs faggot!” But it's easy to fall in love with

each gloved hand; you won't lift your palms from the

humiliation like that because you know that your legs

silicone grips unless you decide to reward yourself

certainly are nice and no matter how ridiculous you

with a drink of water while riding a straight and flat

appear, you know you look better than anybody who

trail. Swing a leg over the seat, a.k.a. “saddle,” and

isn't riding a bicycle.

clip a cleat into the spring-loaded pedal. You will only separate from the pedal if you want to, by popping the heal outwards, “healing out,” or crashing. Then you push off with your grounded foot while simultaneously pushing down with your clipped-in foot and raise your free foot to its pedal and the act of pedaling will naturally clip it in.

“Clipping in” makes a dense, satisfying metal on metal sound, almost bullets knocking together, but much more articulate, gritty and satisfying. Even though you're moving at speeds up to thirty miles an hour, your hands and feet won't move at all in relation to the bars and pedals. For seasoned riders, simply standing beside a mountain bike and gripping the handlebars is enough to recall the power and

The most painful task before a mountain-biker is

speed that comes from leaning forward with the bars

riding up a steep hill with a turn in it, loose dirt, and

and trail squared to your chest.

stair-like roots. It is demanding, both physically and

The masochism comes in when your legs first

mentally. First you need to shift down into the

begin to ache a little, but you know that it's good,

correct gear so that you can start pedaling at the

because by then, you're so focused on the trail and

proper speed before you hit the bottom of the hill the writer’s mind | 17

because starting acceleration is much harder on an

Falling and taking the physical pain is better than

incline. Once your on the hill, you must stand up to

admitting defeat; not only because it saves face with

give yourself a boost of upward momentum and to

whomever you might be riding with at the time, it

move your center of gravity forward along the

can save you a lot of trouble. If you hop off your

bicycle, ahead of the saddle so you don't fall

bike, it takes under a second of standing still for

backwards. However, once you move your center of

excess oxygen, meant for your legs, to find its way to

gravity forward, weight is transferred from the rear

your brain where it can wreak havoc. You will start

wheel, which could cause you to lose traction, spin

to see yellow or purple spots in your vision, so you

out, and lose momentum. To counter a loss of

close your eyes and bend over the bicycle, resting

traction you need to use the handle bars and frame as

your lower chest on the saddle for support. As you

a lever, along with the load bearing pedals as a

pant, you realize that you aren't presently riding

fulcrum, to push your rear wheel into the dirt so you

because some inadequacy kept you from riding

can continue to drag yourself uphill. Centrifugal

where you wanted to ride. Laziness prevented you

force is depended on for getting up and around

from shifting into the correct gear for the climb.

curves, usually formed around a tree growing out of

Gluttony added the extra fifteen pounds, which robs

the hillside, and to make the tight turns you need to

efficiency from every pedal stroke. Arrogance let you

make sure that your outside pedal in down so the

think that you could ride the more difficult of two

crank arm can act as a lever for keeping your tires

lines. Poor coordination meant that you didn't stand

against the dirt; keeping the inside pedal down will

up from the saddle at just the right moment to

have the opposite effect and lift your wheels from

provide the extra upward momentum that you had

the dirt so you can go down and hit the dirt. To

needed. With your cleats are sinking into dirt, rather

tackle roots, you need to pull up as you roll into

than clipped into the pedals which is where they

them and then push forward, leaning so that as much

were made to be, your every shortcoming rises to the

of your weight is on the higher side of the obstacle

surface as oil does in a runoff ditch during a light, yet

making it easier for the rest of you and your bike to

prolonged drizzle. You would sooner tear off your

follow, and don't forget to keep pedaling through it.

jersey to make a Lycra noose caked with sweat salt

No matter how skilled you are or what kind of

and hang yourself from the nearest bough, rather

bike you have, there comes a time during every

than bare the humiliation of running your mountain-

mountain-bike ride when, for whichever reason. You

bike up a hill when you should be riding it.

don't make it all the way up a climb. At the point

However, upon opening your eyes, you realize that

when you realize that your momentum is gone, you

the trail hasn't abandoned you, your bike is still with

have two options. Attempt to continue at the

you, and you're in the best shape of your life so far.

expense of wearing out your drive-train, ultimately

As you return to equilibrium, your calves start to

falling flat on your side, get up, pick up the bike and

burn as a result of lactic acid in your muscles. The

push it the rest of the way uphill--preferably running

best kind of pain, it's just your legs' way of telling you

faster than you would have ridden. Or, accept that

that they want to pedal, not dangle.

you can't make it and put a foot down and hop off your bike and push it the rest of the way.

If you do make it all the way up a hill, before reaching the top, your and arms legs will be burning

the writer’s mind | 18

more than they have all day, and so will your lungs.

inefficient because you didn't pay attention to what

That's good because your body will release adrenaline

goes into your body. The trail is the perfect place to

in the face of such torture as a means of survival,

do the time for crimes against your body because it's

which really adds a kick to the sense of

a place of solitude, where you only have yourself to

accomplishment in conquering an obstacle. While

blame.

survival is important, pure fun is the most notable

Safe-word is “rider

advantage of such copious amounts of adrenaline in

up,” “woe,” or any

your system. Adrenaline makes it possible to ride

noise just as long as

much faster, retarding your perception of time so as

joggers, hikers, and

to

other

process

the

information

of

the

rapidly

approaching trail before you come to it.

riders

are

aware of you as soon

Mountain-biking never gets any easier, you just go

as you see them.

faster, which is where the sadism comes in. Once

Riding pas horses is

you reach a point in your development as a rider

dangerous, especially

when you can say that you are so much better than

if

you were at such a point in the past, you'll know it

horseback

because riding becomes easier. Your lungs and legs

know her horse all

won't be burning as much and you'll need to drink

that well. The first

water less often. Part of you will want to be

time I came across horseback riders in the woods, it

complacent and enjoy the easy riding, tackling

was on a fairly wide trail. I stopped and put a foot

obstacles almost passively on the part of technical

down, even thought they seemed to have been sitting

skill. However, another part will loathe yourself for

still on the side of the trail--piles of horse stuff on

being so lazy and you will want to push yourself until

the trail are not an uncommon sight, and there's

it becomes hard again, but finding the limit can be

nothing worse than when you can tell that there's a

tricky. It will occur to you that you need to crash

big pile of it somewhere upwind from where you are,

before you can be sure that you are really pushing

but there's no complaining since you're most likely

your body's limits both physically and technically.

riding on trails owned by the same people who own

Once you do crash, there is nothing more satisfying

the horses. The riders were two tween girls, one of

than jumping off your bike and landing on all four

them wearing a pink bicycle helmet, the other's head

like a cat and sliding in the dirt or leaves. But it takes

was bare, exposing frizzy auburn locks to the canopy

many falls, or “lesson-learners” to be able to master

of pine needles above. I smiled at them and they

falling with grace.

smiled back, then the one in the bike helmet said

the

rider

on

doesn't

The sadistic side also comes out when you forget

with delight, “This is a good time for Dahlia to get

to take proper care of yourself. If your knees ache

used to bicycles,” and she waved for me to ride past,

and swell with fluid at night because you forgot to

but damned if Dahlia didn't start bucking as soon as

stretch after a ride, “Good,” you'll say to yourself,

I rode past her shoulder. She gave two warning hops

“I've earned this punishment, so now I'll know

and then I saw the piston of a hoof pass within a

better.” The same goes for feeling sluggish and

foot of my chest. I hopped off immediately to the

the writer’s mind | 19

opposite side of the trail and checked to see that Dahlia's rider was still intact and she was. I apologized and walked my bike a few yards down the trail before hopping back on.

That's where a bicycle differs from other means of transportation.

While

a

car's

performance

is

indifferent to the biomechanics of the driver, and a horse a mind of its own, a bicycle's only limit is the rider and what the rider is willing to do with the bike.

The possibilities are endless once the mind is willing and

the

degree

exponentially,

of

making

improvement mountain-biking

increases a

very

fulfilling hobby and lifestyle. While most people aren't drawn to mountain-biking for its danger and inconvenience, one trip is all it takes to get hooked.

the writer’s mind | 20

THE INTERIOR OF A COMPUTER

checking out you scramble for your wallet then hand

Carly Corrado

the cashier your debit card.

The cashier utters, “It will be $36.90.”

Boredom brings you to the computer and you

“Okay, thank you,” you say while smiling.

begin hopping from website to website. You are able

Several buttons later she looks at you with

keep to in touch with friends who live states away

apprehensive eyes and says, “I’m sorry but your card

through email. You rekindle a relationship with a

has been declined.”

long lost cousin, thanks to Facebook. You submit a homework assignment at the last minute and email a

“What?” you ask. “But...but that’s impossible, it’s my debit card. Swipe it again please.”

question to your boss, getting instant gratification.

She swipes your card again then shakes her head

But because of this, you are expected to be accessible

with a sympathetic frown. While you appear to be

24/7. There is no excuse why you did not check your

keeping a cool composure, embarrassment is

email Friday night and see that there was a meeting at

flooding your body. Subconsciously your eyes scan

work on Monday morning. It is unacceptable that

the perimeter, rapidly shifting from left to right,

you were unable to connect to the internet therefore,

seeking who possibly have overheard. Your eyes find

submitted a homework assignment late. Yet, you find

on a woman who stares at you with awe, with pity.

your computer beneficial. You end up window

Heat begins to rise throughout your body, noticeably

shopping online at your usually stores, hopping from

in your cheeks, where facial blood vessels have

website to website. You end up at Victoria Secretes’

opened inviting blood to rush in. Instinctively, your

webpage and you click away mindlessly until you end

shoulders slump with the desire to hide every inch of

up on the sale and specials page. There you find a

your body. All while your mind considers, not what

black bikini that was originally $76.00 but now on

is wrong with your debit card but, “What do I do now?

sale for $25.00. You contemplate whether or not you

I hope that lady didn’t hear. I hope this cashier doesn’t think

should make the purchase. Then you begin to justify

I’m a poor. Oh Shit, I have no money on me! Do I put this

all the reasons to ‘swipe your card,’ My birthday just

stuff back or do the workers?”

passed so I have birthday money that was meant to be spent on

Your debit card has been declined not because,

me. And I never bought myself a birthday gift. I know it’s

you are a shopaholic, you are irresponsible with your

February but if I buy it now I will be motivated to go to the

money, you mistakenly swiped the wrong card, your

gym. I don’t have any other bikinis that look like this either.

card has expired, the cashier’s machine has

And it’s more than half off, that’s such a good bargain. Plus,

malfunctioned, the cashier is an idiot, The Bank of

I get free shipping. So you add the little black bikini into

America is down, but because a man, who is a

your virtual shopping cart and check out. Carefully,

hacker, in Salem, Oregon has drained your checking

you type your debit card’s sixteen digit number and

account by continuously paying his telephone bill

its three digit verification code. You receive a receipt

with your hard earned money which you’ve been

through email with a notification that your package

saving for quite some time.

will arrive in seven to twelve days.

That two-timing laptop of yours compromised

Three weeks have gone by and you’re bathing suit

your bank account. It claimed to make your

has been delivered. You are at Wal*Mart picking up

shopping experience more convenient, when in

some tissues, paper towels, soap, exedra. While the writer’s mind | 21

reality it made it hell. You trusted it with such vital

muscles constrict, preparing you. The laptop meets

information without any hesitation. Why did you give

the floor and snaps shut. The humming of its battery

these numbers away so willingly to this digital

fades away. Its lighted power button goes dark. Your

backstabber when you would never trust a human

ears tell your brain the crash was loud and

with them? Why, when at a bank, taking out money,

intimidating. Your brain then realizes the intense fear

you hide your pin from the people standing near by

was not a threat to your survival and abruptly

but so freely give your laptop any information it asks

endurance disappears. You are left with an

for? Yes, you got your money back but not without

overwhelming load of emotion.

long hours of investigation and aggravation. It took

Hesitation settles in you as you sit now

your card information, gave it to another computer

dumbfounded. Your eyes peak over the edge to see if

aiding someone to steal your money but still you

any parts are scattered. Instinctively, our lips lie to

trust it.

your brain, “It’s fine, it it’s only about a three-foot

Later, using blankets and pillows you are nestling

drop,” but a brain is not as naive as a heart. So your

up in your bed with your laptop, preparing for a long

face boils red, palms get tacky from sweat, and heart

night’s work. Just before you are about to begin

accelerates as you lethargically get off your bed. Your

procrastination knocks at your door telling you,

hands tremble as you carefully pick the laptop up and

“You need a glass of water.” Suddenly, your throat

place it on your desk. With a hopeful heart you lift

feels dry so you hop off your bed and shuffle to the

the screen. Your stomach feels like it would if you

refrigerator. With your cup of water you return and

drank sour milk. Instead of the beautiful fields of

start to cozy up all over again. As you are stretching

Ireland, where you hope to travel one day, white and

for a pillow that is just a smidge out of reach it

black cracks plaster its screen.

begins slinking to the edge of your bed. Though its cord is pulling it, it is moving willingly. Its battery is warming your comforter while its screensaver displays flashing pictures. Inch by inch it is nearing its desire. With half of it hanging off your bed it jumps impulsively. Gravity is not questionable as the computer is making its way to the floor. Air whistles as it cuts through the speakers and cracks. Flipping acrobatically, it twirls in midair lighting up its keys.

Its cord lets go, fearing the impact of the fall, and slithers towards an outlet. Your brain reacts instinctively as adrenalin enters your body. Fight or flight? Your pupils dilate when it leaves. Your heart pounds loudly, beating hard against your breast and quickening your blood flow. Suddenly your lungs are working hard as your nose inhales more oxygen then usual. Sweat begins to bead on your forehead. Your

Fear runs through your body. The laptop is not old but old enough to have what seems like a lifetime of files. Your brain frantically racks through thoughts, How did this happen? What do I do? Can it be fixed? I’m sure it can. What if it can’t? How much would it cost? I can’t believe this! You are horror-struck by all the writing and papers that just vanished. Why didn’t I the writer’s mind | 22

back them up anywhere? You are disgusted by all the

computers, why technology? Why do you assume

music thus, money you just lost. Why didn’t I burn any

that computers, which 70 million of crash every 24

CDs? You are upset that you will never be able to

hours, will not fail you? What has made you so

reminisce on the pictures that were just thrown away.

reliant, so dependant, on such an unfaithful and

Why didn’t I print any of them?! Then anger comes,

unpredictable thing?

more than anything else you rage with fury.

Even after you endure a computer’s betrayal on a

After trusting it for so long, having faith in it,

first hand account and on more than one occasion,

depending on it, confiding in it, relaying on it,

you will continue to rely on it. You will maintain

flipping it open on countless occasions, bringing it to

your relationship with your computer, using it and

life millions of times, softly pressing its key for

trusting it as if no abuse ever occurred. You will play

hours, looking into its screen for years, caring for it

the blissfully ignorant act. Surely, you would never

day after day, buying it virus protections, buying it

accept this disloyalty or abuse from a human but

sturdy protective cases, keeping it close by at all

with technology, with computers, you will. Your faith

times, traveling carefully with it, gently rubbing its

in technology has become so deeply rooted that it

mouse, feeding it energy, cleaning it, searching the

goes against your human instincts, which is to stop

web with it, pulling all nighters with it, singing loud

trusting something once it has caused you great

with it, fighting with it, laughing hard with it, talking

harm. But instead you continue to depend on

to it, playing games with it, watching all sorts of

computer. You will not consider what can be lost if

videos with it, sharing pictures with it, shopping with

your computer malfunctions again. Because you are

it, and learning new things with it, its power button,

naïve, blinded by trust that was never earned, a

circular, lighted blue, which has the control to turn it

hopeless dependent.

on, which has the control to turn it off, master of all the keys, small but dignified, and source of everything, will not ignite, no flash of color, no spark to the screen, no zap to the battery, no light to the keys, all because it challenged gravity, jumped, attempted to fly, tumbled through the air, backtucked, front-flipped, fell, dropped, plummeted to the floor, hitting hard against the stiff carpet, cracked, shattered, broke, and died, taking your, files, reports, poems, narratives, essays, diagrams, tables, graphs, presentations, pictures, and music, leaving you nothing but useless scrapes of plastic, metal, wires, chips, and glass.

It not only abandoned you but it took what was yours. How did you trust something so much that you...lets say “put all your eggs in one basket?” You do this with nothings else, especially people, so why

the writer’s mind | 23

GRADUATION

exited the room and I start heading down stairs my

Alexis Bermudez

grandparents are there and tell me how beautiful I look and how proud they are of me.

It was a hot day in June; everyone had tan lines on

Then my dad comes up and gives me a big hug

their feet from wearing flip flops all the time. I was

and says “I’m going to get the camera wait right

curling my hair. The house smelled of burnt hair. It

there”, Josh comes down stairs he wore a white

was almost time for me to go. I put on my dress. The

button down shirt with a black tie and a black vest

dress was white with little pink flowers and a pink

with black dress pants and dress shoes. He didn’t

ribbon around my waist. It was beautiful and it fit me

care much for their types of things. Since he was

like a glove. My long hair covered the back of dress it

going to we took pictures together. We did

was long curly light brown hair that stopped where

everything together because he was my twin. I get

my back ended. I stood in front of the mirror and

into my mom’s silver truck and head to the high

looked at self. “It’s finally happening,” I said to

school.

myself.

I had butterflies in my stomach I couldn’t believe I

Then I reached for my leopard print makeup bag. I

was this nervous. I took my phone out and text my

took a palette from too faced and I applied my eye

friend jess “R U Already There?” She replied, “No

shadow and then my fake eyelashes because mine

still at the salon be there soon”. The school was only

where to short for the look. I sat on my bed and I

three minutes away from our house so I was there in

put on a pair of white flat on. We weren’t allowed to

no time. The parking lot was packed. Cars were

wear heels.

parking all over the place including the grass.

I just stood in front of the mirror as it stared back

The school had just planted fresh flowers and new

at me. There’s a knock at the door I say “come in”

mulch. My mom drives up to the front and drops me

and my mother walks in with a smile on her face. She

and josh off. We were in the same homeroom

was dressed in a pink blouse and black dress pants

because of our last name. When we arrived everyone

with black flats. She never wore dresses. She walked

was here and they had us sign in. everyone was

up to me and with eyes full of tears she hugs me and

sitting on the desk fixing their hair and makeup. The

tells me how proud she was.

Guys talked about their plans for afterwards. Some

I was the first of her children doing this. I tried to hold my tears back as not to smudge my makeup.

were going to the shore, and others were going to Dave and Busters and that was a school function.

She say’s we should start heading out it’s getting late.

I was going home because I had an interview with

I agreed. “About 2.5 to 2.8 million student graduate

one of my colleges. My friends surrounded my desk

each year. According to the National Center for

trying to convince me to skip the interview and go

Education Statistics, in 2000-01, 2,569,200 students

out with them. I denied every time. We had all

graduated from high schools in the United States,

picked the same college. Gloucester County College

and in 2005-06 the number was 2,815,544.”

and after that we would all go to different schools.

And now it was my turn.

The homeroom teacher got up from his old wooden

My mother was holding all the invitations in her

desk that looked like it would falls apart at any

hand. I grabbed my gown, phone, and camera. I

second.

the writer’s mind | 24

The class was loud and full of laugher and

After many speeches they asked the graduates to

happiness everyone was so excited. The teacher had

stand and then started calling names. I couldn’t

everyone stop talking and said, “You are one of my

believe it was finally here. We were called in boy girl

favorite homerooms, there a lot of personalities in

order so when they called me they also called my

here and I’m glade to hear that most of you got

twin brother. We crossed paths grabbed our fake

accepted into a school and will be continuing your

diplomas. Then I stood next to this woman I had

education. I very proud of you all and I hope you all

never met and took a picture with her and headed

come and visit me sometime.” We all clapped and

back to my seat. I could see my parents in the crowd

then the announcements went on, “A threw C can

and their eyes full of tears I knew they were proud of

leave the class rooms.” And that continued until

me and my brother. I was proud of me too. I had

everyone was out of the rooms. We were the largest

waited 12 years for that moment. A moment that

graduating class the school had ever had.

lasted, a short thirty seconds.

We had 800 students walking. Each home room

At the moment the sky was full of white and blue

teacher stood next to their class. We walked through

caps as everyone ran to their friends. This was the

the school for the final time. The school was empty

last time I was going to see most of them. I said my

all the poster and flyer were all ripped off the hall.

goodbyes and headed to the bleaches were my

Any type of decorations where also all gone.

parents were. They greeted me the flowers. They

It seemed like the first day of school. It was the

were gerbera daisy, which are my favorite with

biggest school I had ever gone to. As we marched

balloons. As we walked thru the field I thought will I

down the halls all the late people had to find their

ever see this place again? I’m officially free.

spots. We all headed to the back of the school I could hear Pomp Circumstance playing.

We had practice only a few times but when the teachers gave the cue we all started our march. The wind was blowing hard and it was blowing are caps off. The song played several times before we were all seated. I was in the front row. The principal then stepped to the podium and there were a number of speeches given but I couldn’t tell you what he said or what anyone else said. It seemed that all the speeches had become one huge blur to me. I was more concerned with getting my fake diploma and having my moment of accomplishment. It wasn’t a huge deal to most but I believe people don’t know understand how good it feels to check something off your list. It’s a huge sense of accomplishment and it gives one a drive to want to do more. Or at least that’s the way I see it.

the writer’s mind | 25

UNANSWERED QUESTIONS

this illness as ‘Mono’ and it is known as an acute

Kevin Schultz

disease characterized by fever and swollen lymph nodes and an abnormal increase of mononuclear

I had just gotten home from practice and dropped

leucocytes or monocytes in the bloodstream.

my golf bag in the garage. I’m used to coming home

If I had to describe the look on Jackie’s face when

after school to my mother hugging me and asking

I walked into my house, it was a combination of

how my day was. This day was terribly different. I

confused, distraught, and anxious. The only thing I

arrived home to my sister Jackie hysterically crying

could think to do was sit down and give her the

on the couch and my mom upset also. I was

biggest hug I could.

completely in shock and I immediately asked what was wrong.

“Jackie needs to go to the hospital tonight Kevin,” mom said.

“Wait, why? I’m so confused. What’s wrong?” I asked.

“The doctor called this afternoon and left a voicemail on the phone saying Jackie’s CAT scan

“Jack I love you so much. Everything is going to be perfectly fine I promise.” I said.

“No I don’t think so. Something’s wrong,” Jackie said.

I tried my hardest to reassure her that it was not at big of a deal as she thought. Meanwhile in the back of my mind I had never been so concerned and worried in my life.

results were in and she needed to get to Hackensack

Once my mom said that my sister was going to

Hospital immediately. He said they didn’t know what

miss her trip, she started to cry even more and tried

exactly was wrong but she needs to be looked at.”

to run into the other room. I really started to feel bad

“Oh, no. Isn’t Jackie supposed to be leaving for her softball tournament tomorrow morning? I asked.

“Yeah but she’s not going to be able to make it,” mom said.

The reason why my sister got a cat scan in the first place was odd to begin with. She was often

but I figured I would try and make my sister laugh by making a joke about the situation.

“Jackie c’mon stop being a little girl about this and toughen up,” I said to her.

“Kevin please let your little sister be she is not feeling well,” my mom said.

complaining that she was dizzy for no reason and her

At this point I was wrestling with my sister on the

balance was thrown off at times. Jackie was one of

bed trying to get any reaction out of her whatsoever.

the best softball players on her team and in a few

As soon as my mother walked out of the room,

games she started to miss routine pop-ups and

Jackie turned her head and bit my neck.

groundballs. Jackie told her coach that her vision was blurry and she constantly had headaches but nobody really understood why. Finally she went to the doctor for tests and sure enough they saw something serious

“Jackie what is wrong with you? Are you kidding me?” I asked.

“What happened? I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Jackie said.

enough that they said she needs to report to the

I jumped up out of the bed and ran to the

hospital as soon as possible. The doctors initially said

bathroom to find blood on the side of my neck.

that Jackie could have Mononucleosis that has

Although I was furious, I tried to keep my calm

somehow gotten into her brain. People often refer to

because I know she was not feeling well. But this

the writer’s mind | 26

same thing has happened plenty of times before,

directly across from us had ESPN on showing girls

which was starting to annoy me. “Whatever,” I said

college softball. I tried to get my mother and Jackie

to myself. I’ll let it slide one last time. Once I was

to move seats before Jackie looked up and saw the

done washing my neck off in the bathroom, I went

softball game. But with no avail my sister raised her

downstairs to the living room to talk to my mother

head and started hysterically crying. As if missing the

without Jackie in the room.

trip wasn’t upsetting enough, Jackie had her friends constantly texting her saying things like, “We miss

“Kevin the doctor said this is very serious I’m actually really concerned,” said my mom.

“This is crazy we knew all along something was wrong. What do we do now?” I asked.

“I’m bringing her to the hospital in a few minutes.

I would like it if you came with me” “Of course I’m coming mom. Let’s get everything together.”

you and were gonna win these games for you. Feel better!” After about a half hour sitting in the waiting room, a doctor came out of the door and called my sisters name.

I was curious what the room Jackie was going to stay in was going to look like and how many windows was she going to have to look out of and if the bed was comfortable and if the food she was going to get was going to be any good and what time

Once Jackie got her bag packed for her overnight

are the doctors going to let her go to sleep and what

stay at the hospital, my mom and I got in the car and

hours were we going to be able to visit her and all

the three of us were off. My dad didn’t get out of

the things a nervous and caring brother could

work until later that afternoon so he was meeting us

possibly think of.

at the hospital.

The whole trip to the hospital was miserable. My sister was scared out of her mind and all I could do

We took about a two minute walk which seemed like an hour long walk to the room where Jackie was going to be staying.

was keep my arms around her. I sat in the back seat

“Welcome Jackie please take a seat in the chair and

to keep her company and make sure she didn’t have

I would just like to ask you a couple questions before

some crazy convulsion or something. Upon arrival at

anything else. If your parents would just stay outside

the hospital, we checked in at the front desk and

for one moment that would be great.” the doctor

were seated in the lobby waiting for a doctor to see

said.

us. This hospital was gigantic and had a hot

About fifteen minutes crawled by and the doctor

chocolate machine in the waiting area. Hot cocoa

came out and said we were free to take a seat on the

was my sister’s favorite drink so I snuck away from

couches they had in the room. After my parents and

her and surprised her with a nice warm cup. She

I got settled in the room, we sat around my sister,

barely drank it but at least she said thank you. Finally

talking about how she has nothing to worry about,

some sort of communication out of her. In the lobby

but shortly another doctor came into the room and

they had flat screen televisions in the upper corners

took blood from Jackie which will allow the doctors

of the room. One TV had Jerry Springer on, the one

to see what could exactly be causing this illness and

next to us had on Family Guy, the one directly above

after the blood was taken this new doctor asked my

our heads had CNN playing, and of course the TV

parents and I to leave once again because the

the writer’s mind | 27

questions

the

doctor

needed

to

ask

were

“confidential.”

swollen up like she had softballs in them, tubes were sticking out of her nose and mouth, and there was no sign of movement at all. The incessant beeps coming from the machines and monitors in the room started to drive me a little crazy. In only one night my sister looked like a completely different person. Almost so that I barely recognized her. Her eyes were puffy shut and it looked like she wasn’t going to be moving for a while. I tried my hardest not to break down in tears because god forbid she woke up and saw me crying in her face. I needed to show my sister that I

Soon this second doctor came out of the room and said we were once again free to go back inside and be with Jackie. It was getting close to dinner time so we took a look at the menu that the hospital had to offer Jackie. Surprisingly enough, the food sounded great and Jackie ordered a grilled chicken breast. The food shortly came and as quick as it was delivered it was gone. Jackie only ate some so I scoffed down most of her meal. Visiting hours only lasted until 7:30P.M. so it was about time my family had to leave Jackie at the hospital and head home.

We said our goodbyes and ran into the first doctor on the way out.

“Goodnight family. I just want to warn you that Jackie is going to undergo numerous tests overnight and she may be asleep or very groggy when you visit tomorrow morning.” the doctor said.

was being strong and confident that nothing was wrong. Looking around at my parents’ face also made it near impossible to not burst out in tears. But a knock on the door by the doctor shortly after we arrived saved me from any break down.

“Good morning family nice to see you again.

Overnight we looked at numerous scans of Jackie’s brain and it appears we still do not have a precise answer as to what’s wrong with her. Later on this evening we are having a doctor shipped in from Holy Name Hospital to have another opinion on Jackie.

The most depressing thought about this whole situation is that nobody knows what was wrong with my sister. The doctors, who are supposed to figure out anything that’s wrong with a human still can’t put a finger on what could be wrong. This was by far the most scared I have ever been about anything in my life. I wanted to just speak to Jackie so badly but she

I could barely get any sleep that night because of

showed no signs of waking. The doctor suggested we

how worried I was about my sister. I had this awful

just let her sleep because she barely got any sleep last

dream that my sister attacked me when I opened the

night. The doctors were taking tests until 2:30A.M..

door to visit her at the hospital. My family woke up, got breakfast, and shortly arrived at the hospital room where my sister spent the night.

Something that will be etched in my mind for the rest of my life is the sight I saw the second I opened the door to my sisters room. Her cheeks were

My little sister has been sitting in this same hospital bed for five days now but we finally got the great news. The doctors were going to take a couple more quick tests this morning but after that she was free to leave with us. Jackie was clearly in much the writer’s mind | 28

better shape than she was the first day we saw her

It was around 2:30 in the morning when I thought

which made me happier than ever. The four of us

I felt this finger poke my neck. It couldn’t have been

were finally in the room together and we were able to

a breeze because I sleep with my windows shut every

have a full conversation with Jackie. The feeling of

single night. With my eyes crusted over and still three

relief was an understatement. Promptly the doctor

quarters shut, I got up and walked to the bathroom.

walked in and we were hoping for him to fill us in on

As I was washing my hands, I looked up in the

exactly was wrong.

mirror and thought to myself for a brief moment. I

“Hello, everyone. I can imagine that the four of

thought about how rude of a comment that was that

you are extremely anxious to hear what I have found

I yelled into my sisters room and how hurt she must

in the test results. After these last five days or so of

have been that her big brother said something like

tests, my team and I still cannot pinpoint exactly

that to her. I decided to go into her room and give

what was wrong with Jackie. I have certainly never

her a kiss goodnight. As I entered her room, I leaned

seen anything like this and I honestly have no leads

down to kiss her forehead but my lips touched the

as to what was wrong. I do know though that your

pillow. She wasn’t in her bed. As I regrouped myself

blood pressure is back to a normal rate and I believe

to head back to my bed, I looked up at the door and

I am going to release Jackie in about an hour.”

saw two oval shaped red eyes and marshmallow

My parents were very concerned as to why one of

white fangs facing me. Before I could do anything

the top medical centers on the east coast couldn’t

but scratch my eyes and squint, this thing threw me

figure out what was wrong with their daughter.

to the floor and quickly lacerated its teeth into the

However my whole family was very excited to have

flesh of my neck. Holding me down with all of its

Jackie coming back home to us in what seems like

force it whispered to me:

OK shape. Jackie’s final tests were finished and we

“Love will always bite…”

were given the thumbs up to head home.

It was getting close to bedtime when we got home and everybody was extremely exhausted with all of the hours and days spent at the hospital. Jackie went to bed early and my parents went in her room to say goodnight. Now that it appeared that Jackie’s illness has somewhat passed, I was actually getting a little jealous by all the attention she was getting from my parents.

“Hey, Jackie I told you that you were being a little girl about this whole sickness. The doctors couldn’t even see if there was anything wrong with you!” I yelled from my bed into Jackie’s room. There was no response on her end and I quickly forgot about it. I turned on my television and quickly passed out.

the writer’s mind | 29

MY VOICE, BURIED

Making my own decisions on what to wear, or where

Brittinee Garcia

to go. For once in the last year I felt free, not having to report to someone who controlled my every

As I was sitting in the brown leather section with

move.

my knees up against the seat in front of me, we drive

I could see him leaning up against his white Scion

over the Egg Harbor Bridge and I could see the

car parked on the side of the street; arms folded

ferris wheel covered in multi-colored lights circling

standing like a body guard, with the facial expression

clockwise. We pulled up, outside Ocean City High

of anger that I was so used to seeing. Being in this

school and at that moment I realized the time had

situation, as I gathered my belongings off the bus,

come and my vacation from reality was over. After

my palms felt like they were submerged them in

avoiding the twenty-seven missed phone calls and

water, my heart was beating so fast as if I just ran a

over seventy text messages reading harsh, cruel,

10k and my face was colorless, showing exactly how

degrading words, I was getting closer to the time

I felt; dead. As I slowly approach this monster of a

where I was going to have to get off the bus and

man with my head down, each step closer I can feel

confront Tony for the first time all weekend, and

his glaring eyes burn through me like fire. Hundreds

maybe have this time be the one where I would leave

of words and statements, as well as what lies I could

him. I repeated my speech in a silent whisper to

have said were going through my head, as well as the

myself, pretending I was singing songs lyrics but I

truth that I practiced over and over to myself. I can’t

was trying to find the right words to say the words

even put a sentence together or think of what I am

“It’s over,” after I finally gained the confidence to

going to say, everything that I had planned, the

leave him.

strength and courage I built up on the weekend

I waited until the last second, when the black

vacation was gone. All that I was worried about was

wheels completely stopped turning on the transit bus

if he would hit me in public, but this time, I hoped

as if it was a body that decided to stop functioning.

he would. It could be my way out.

The doors squeaked opened which was my sign to start packing up my things. My iPod’s bright screen closed its eyes as my headphones circled around it like a tight rope. All my friends and fellow students were talking loud with anticipation and pushing each other to get off the small, cramped bus we traveled in to and from New York for three days. Everyone

Finally, I was standing in front of him, head down

was ready to be home, they were tired of being with

and silent, like some kind of animal being punished,

each other for a full 72 hours, except me. I wanted to

demonstrating that I am the one that is not worthy.

stay. I wanted to go back to the night before where I

We stood there in silence for what seems like hours,

felt like a normal teenager hanging out with friends,

but every second that was silent was building up a

sneaking quietly out of our hotel room after the night

worse punishment for myself later. I wanted to get it

check to hang out in other rooms, flirting with a

over with, the cycle that I had been going through

blonde hair blue eyed boy that treated me nicely.

for months, hit and yell at me already, blame the writer’s mind | 30

everything on me, degrade me, call me names,

nineteen. I was a statistic. I experience a lot more

embarrass me, and then apologize, so we can pretend

than a normal teen should have dealt with at the age

that nothing happened. He quickly moved from

of thirteen. Having your mom pass away age the age

leaning on the car, and my initial reaction was to

of two is not easy to deal with, especially when

cover my face. “Here you go beautiful, I missed you

you’re left with your dad and grandparents to help

this weekend,” were the words that he said as he held

raise a teenage girl. My dad and grandparent’s made

a bouquet of Lilies in his hand.

me the happiest little girl anyone could ask for, being

I stood there, confused and hypnotized by not

spoiled rotten and spending everyday with them; they

only the words that came out of his mouth but his

were my best friends. I didn’t think bad things could

actions that followed. Where was the hard smack to

happen to people you loved; I thought happiness

the face, tightly gripping my arm and throwing me to

stayed with you forever. I forgot about my past and

the car, not even a “you bitch” or “dumb whore.”

all the unhappy memories until that moment my

Not a single hurtful word was said. I had one of

grandparents passed away.

those mini dreams where you imagine yourself being

Stepping foot into the funeral home, passing the

brave and bold and running away from it all, gaining

line of friends and family circling around the building

your confidence you had all this time. But I suddenly

as if tickets were going on sale. The clicks on the

heard the plastic paper crinkle covering the flower

hard wood floor reminded me of a ticking time

stems and woke up from that dream. I remained still

bomb. Watching the people pass like wind as I stood;

standing silent in front of Tony; I looked up into his

cold and firm there like a statue. The scent of flowers

dark brown eyes that looked so calm and innocent

tricks your brain into thinking it’s a time for spring

for the first time. I whispered “No.” The first time

and happiness. Your mind is trying to tell yourself

that I said it was like pulling words out of my mouth,

that what your eyes are seeing is not real, pinching

instead of teeth. It was a breath of fresh air, like a

your skin, blinking the eyelids so fast and tight all you

fifty pound weight was lifted from my shoulders and

can see is darkness, every blink leads each time to

I kept repeating it, each time getting louder like some

more and more tears are exiting the tear ducks. The

kind of alarm frightening people around. “No.” No

sound of sniffles and cries led my eyes to wonder

Tony.” “No.” I stood there tall and proud in front of

around, everyone dressed in black and huddled in

him, patiently waiting for the smack I figured that

groups, but all that stood out for me was silence, a

would come next. But he was speechless and silent as

feeling of emptiness.

well. And at that moment I grabbed my bags that

After the loss of my grandparents, my dad decided

were lying on the black pavement, turned my back

to remarry, and that’s when the abuse started to

towards him and walked away, not looking back, just

happen, not from my dad, but from my new

forward.

stepmother. Being an only child added to a family of four wasn’t all fun and games to the kids I had to

Neglect represents the most common type of reported form of maltreatment in the home. Sixty four percent of teens experience some sort of abuse in the home between the ages of twelve and

start calling my brothers and sisters. I seemed to be the black sheep in this new perfect Brady Bunch family. The person I knew my dad to be disappeared and to his eyes I did as well. I was picked on and

the writer’s mind | 31

excluded like a new kid at school. Emotional and

smoothly, we started talking about the future and

Verbal abuse were just part of the routine along with

what we each thought would happen, a topic that

some physical swings here and there. At that point I

seemed too soon to bring up. We stopped at a

didn’t believe in family or happiness, because I had

wooden picnic bench that was dedicated to a

lost the people that I knew were my family.

Rosemary Johnson, it was worn out, and scratched

Independence was calling.

up holding stories and secrets like a diary, telling

I remember sitting in my room, the room that had

about many couples that had come and sit down on a

protected me from the real world for years, once

night just like tonight. And in the blink of an eye the

covered in pink and blue ribbon wallpaper, now

tone of Tony’s voice and the conversations about

painted my favorite color, orange, a color that makes

our dreams and happy times together turned into

me happy with the thought of bright summer, happy

yelling and disagreement. It almost seemed that his

wasn’t what I was feeling, I haven’t felt happy in a

eyes turned as red as the devil and his body become

long time, all I felt was abandonment, like an outcast,

possessed because that next instant was a side I had

I looked different and my last name was different,

never seen before, nor did I expect.

which is why I didn’t fit it, fitting in meant being

That quick statement of “I was accepted into

loved unconditionally, all I ever received was neglect.

William Paterson University and decided to go there

I did learn to take responsibility of my actions, but

for college” led a cold hand be smacked across my

like any problem, it has to be blamed on someone,

face. In slow motion I felt my head turn with the

and I blame my parents. Nothing I did seemed to get

wind, but it wasn’t on my own, I had no control. In a

praise or approval, which is why I went looking for

matter of seconds the sting was so intense, I honestly

something or someone else to get me that feeling.

thought I was on fire. I could imagine the bright red mark on my face like a tire streak, as I stood there

The night couldn’t have gone any better; we finally were going on our first date after secretly seeing each other for almost six months. I lied to my parents about where I was going as did he lie about why he needed the night off of work. I normally told the truth, but I didn’t think that they would approve of their seventeen –year-old daughter dating her twentytwo year old boss’ son. We had been hiding this relationship like a mobster hides a dead body, and it began to become exhausting. Dinner and a movie seemed like the perfect date with a man that my friends warned me not to go for. We drove around and ended up at a local park that was lit up with white street lights and concrete pathways. As we started walking through the park, on a cool spring evening holding hands that seemed to fit so

holding my cheek like it was just ripped open, tears were streaming down, and they wouldn’t stop. Tony was standing in front of me screaming and yelling, telling me how could I think of leaving him, and blaming me for going away to school for wanting to be with other guys, he kept repeating lines like an old record player but I couldn’t make out a word because all my mind was focused on was what just happened and how he showed no remorse. My body had shut down, the sight of Tony in front of me was blurry as if I needed glasses, I had ringing in my ear that was so loud, like you would normally get from having a hard impact, my mind just went blank, like a fresh sheet of white paper.

I made a decision that I didn’t know I had to include him in. I didn’t think we were a serious

the writer’s mind | 32

relationship. I didn’t know he would get upset. I

the kitchen, the pan circling on the floor all that is

didn’t ever expect that to happen. My mind must

noticed is the water boiling with steaming hot water

have been playing tricks on me; I couldn’t have

waiting to soak up noodles while blood drips down

snuck out and lied to my parents about who I was

my face, once hitting the stove, burning. Burning up

seeing, and because of it I became a battered.

and disappearing like my life was being in this

underage high school student. But Tony was right; I

relationship.

should have thought about my actions before I did it,

I kept my voice buried six feet under, until that last

it wouldn’t ever happen again, it was just a onetime

straw where my silence had to be broken; the yellow

thing.

tape had to be cut before I turned out to be my own

80% of girls that have been victims of physical

crime scene.

abuse in their dating relationships continue to date their abuser. This fact is 100% true for my situation.

The first hit was not a onetime thing, the smack that caused my face to burn like fire, that fire kept coming back, about every two weeks the smack would return, except each time attacking a different part of my body, the body has lots of weak and tender areas, areas that tend to bruise easier than others, areas that are easier to hide than others, I was good at hiding the bruises, I wasn’t good at hiding my emotion. I thought he loved me: he showed me attention, even if it wasn’t the kind of attention I wanted. I loved him; I couldn’t leave. I had to hide what was happening for nine long months, my days went as slow as molasses, each hour the minutes seemed to take longer and longer.

The pan crashed on the ground, the sound of metal on the hard tiled floor makes you cringe and duck as if it was a gunshot. The silence that dragged out for only about five seconds after as I saw Tony leave the room were five seconds of peace that made me able to take a deep breath. Recollecting the thoughts of the past two seconds, having my eyes watch the thick silver pan make its way to my face in slow motion. A feeling of coldness came over my body, as if someone was pouring water down my back. As I look for the clear liquid, I only saw red, red liquid stood for blood. Standing in the middle of

the writer’s mind | 33

BABY GIRL

mom decided to tell me, “Tomorrow is the day.” It

Jessica Lochel

would be the last time she would eat a meal. The last time I would be able to cuddle with her. The last

Dr. Bill Webster, a grieving counselor, says that

time I’d take her for a walk. The last time I would

grief is unpredictable—that it is finished when it is

call her “Baby girl” and pat on my chest to beckon

finished--that the only way to get out is to get

her to jump up on me.

through it—that it comes and goes. Who knew eight

I had never seen my dad cry, but tears welled

years later, it would still come more than it would go?

up in his eyes when he saw me cry the morning we

Grief, when you choose to have a pet like the one I

were taking her, and the moment I saw his tears,

had whose name was Baby, who my family adopted

mine came harder. He told my mom and me to bring

from the shelter when I was just three, who had

Baby back if there was anything at all that could be

silent excitement that stood out and never barked at

done to save her, no matter what the costs were. I

us when all the other dogs did, who just felt like she

was so angry with my mother. She was the one who

was ours from the moment we saw her and slipped

made the decision.

on a turquoise collar and branded her tags to make

“Why are you feeding her, mom? You’re just

her our own—yes, with a pet like this, grief is a part

taking her to die today anyway so what’s the point?”

of life.

I said to my mother in the bitterest way I knew how.

For years, I couldn’t drive by the Marne

“Stop it, Jess. I am hurting just as much as you

Highway Veterinary Clinic. The paining loss of my

are. I don’t want to see her suffer anymore. You

childhood buddy was still too great to face. And so, I

don’t see her hurting through the day like I do when

would drive a different route to avoid seeing that

you’re at school,” she responded.

place at all costs. Two years ago, I broke the pattern

It was true, Baby had been sick lately, even I

and drove by. It was just about to be dark and the

noticed. But today, she was different. She was so

place was closed. I wanted to push my foot down on

happy and prancing around like a puppy, excited for

the gas harder and speed by it but I felt myself

the day. How could we take her today? I thought about

instead easing up on the pedal until my car slowed

the night before, and the time I spent with her-her

down to a halt and I pulled off to the side of the

last night.

road. I could see everything that happened that day—that day we took Baby for her last car ride.

I made my boyfriend take me to McDonald’s to get a twenty piece McNugget before he dropped

Baby wasn’t even sick that day. That’s my dog.

me off at home. I shared them with her and made

Was my dog. My dog that I grew up with, that I had

sure to give her the last one. Her tongue lapped it up

for 15 years—that was my best friend, who loved me

out of the palm of my hand in one lick and she

unconditionally even when I didn’t show it to her as

nearly swallowed it whole. As a tear streamed down

much as I should have, who slept by my side every

my cheek, drawing a line in my makeup, I

night, whose fur is still to this day, eight years later,

remembered all the times in the last fifteen years that

intertwined in my blankets—that I had to let go of.

Baby was there for me to cry on.

We were not even done putting away all of our

Baby had been my best friend. Dogs really do

Christmas presents from the family room when my

love unconditionally. She always knew when I was

the writer’s mind | 34

sad, or when I had been yelled at by my parents.

teeth cleaning. I wondered why they couldn’t have

Baby would always follow me and just be there next

just stayed home that day. I wanted to be with Baby

to me for comfort. And she always was. She was a

by myself and my mom one last time and I

feeling of pure solace. And when I wasn’t sad

remember being so agitated that these people with

anymore, she was there to play; to go outside and run

their young dogs didn’t feel the hurt I was feeling

around with me, knocking me over when I was little,

that day. I was envious that they were able to take

licking me and making me laugh until I almost

their pet home with them that day, and I knew deep

couldn’t breathe.

down that the next time Baby would come home it

When there was no one there to talk to, Baby

would be in the form of ashes.

listened. Even though she couldn’t talk back, she

They called us too quickly into the room and I

paid attention and that was all I needed. She was just

couldn’t control the floods washing down my face

always there. She never left me, just always loved me.

and falling to the floor. Suddenly Baby became

As I lay next to her that night, and she yelped

nervous and began to resist going any further. It was

as she tried to make herself comfortable, I could see

like she knew, and she wasn’t ready. I cried like I was

the suffering she was going through. I knew it was

a child again, loudly, and with no care if anyone saw

time to show her how much I loved her by letting

me. I wished that I could’ve told Baby to run and

her go and ending her pain. So for the last time I laid

that she would find her way home and suddenly be

there and cried on my dog.

healthy again. The nurses hooked Baby’s leash to a

The next day, when it was time to go, after a

cold metal table which they placed her onto, and

morning of harassing my mother about her decision,

raised the table about four feet higher. There wasn’t

trying to put up my last fight, I succumbed to what

a second that I let go of her—I felt like I couldn’t

had to be done. A hysteria of tears came as we

hold her tight enough at this point in time. The

secured Baby’s leash on for the last time.

doctor entered the room and asked us what we

I

remember such a feeling of deceit as we saw the

would like to do.

excitement in her eyes—her black and tan tail was

“If there is anything possible that can be done

wagging and we wept as we witnessed it one last time

for her, please do it,” said my mother, who finally

as she jumped in circles around us like she was a

broke down into sobbing mode as well.

seven-month-old puppy. We helped her into the

The doctor brushed past me with little to no

back seat of my father’s black Impala for her last

sympathy for the matter, as if Baby was just another

ride. She had no clue what was to come. We put the

dog—just another day. He began pressing on her

window half down so she could feel the breeze

stomach. Still with no emotion on his face he told us

hitting her tongue as it hung out of her mouth,

that not much could be done.

slobbering all over the freshly cleaned window, but we cherished every moment of it.

“Her kidneys are hardened inside; there’s no way they can be working properly. We can do

When we arrived to the vet’s office, Baby

surgery, but given that she is fifteen years old, the

wanted to sniff around outside where all the other

likelihood of her survival through it is slim. We can

dogs had been. I couldn’t stand to see all the happy

keep giving her sedatives so that she doesn’t feel any

people with their dogs bringing them in for just a

the writer’s mind | 35

pain until she passes, or we can help her pass today,”

Right there in the house, my mother, father, and I fell silent as we hugged and cried. It was the

he told my mom and I. As my mom turned to look at me, I could see

first time we came home and didn’t have Baby greet

the pain in her eyes and I knew the final decision she

us at the door, and we were forced to get used to it. I

was about to make. I felt so helpless, and I knew that

couldn’t even show anger towards my mother

Baby was in pain regardless of how she was acting

anymore after seeing how much she was really

that day. I didn’t want to hear my mother say it.

hurting too. She made the toughest decision she ever

“I’m sorry Jess, she can’t live like this,” she said

had to make, and I knew it was the right one deep inside.

to me. an

As I sat in my car pulled over on the side of the

uncontrollable sob began as held Baby tighter to me,

road in front of the Clinic and remembered that day,

while the doctor left the room to give us time to say

a peace came over me. Because--well, I could

goodbye. I knew it was coming, but somehow it still

remember every detail of Baby that day, and of the

shocked me. By this point, all the nurses around us

fifteen years before. I remembered her down to the

were crying as well. They too felt the love I had for

which side her head would turn to when you’d ask

her just from seeing us on that day.

her if she wants to go outside and the way her paws

I

had

never

stopped

crying,

but

The doctor came back into the room in a timing that felt all too quick. It was clear that he was

smelled. And the memory of her made me smile as I put my car back into drive and sailed off.

in no mood to sit and wait around for us to have more time with her. I couldn’t even look at him. I saw my mother nod to him—she was so choked up she couldn’t say the words. He grabbed the needle filled with the sleeping poison. I tried to relax Baby as much as she could—holding her for the last time to comfort her. I felt her slowly start to relax as she “fell asleep” in my arms. I held her even when she was completely still. I kept kissing her head and calling her my “Baby girl.”

“She’s gone, Jess,” my mother said to me.

I couldn’t stop petting her and telling her it was okay, as if she was still alive—as if she was just sleeping.

When we arrived home, we came through the door without Baby and my dad shook his head and began to cry, “You know,” he choked out, “I really thought there was a good chance she’d be coming back with you guys.”

the writer’s mind | 36

MY LOVE OF THE EYES

a smile towards my family, raising my eyebrows and

Carly Rothenberg

nodded my head to show my approval of the bracelet.

I did not know how to react, how to respond. I’m sure everyone noticed my blank, confused, and

“It’s from the flea market,” my aunt animatedly states.

unsure facial expression. How else would I look

How great.

when my two aunts and my mom, arriving home

My aunt continues, “It’s from Grandma, she got

from a vacation to see my grandparents in Florida,

one for every girl in the family.”

hand me a gift that I’m not too pleased with. I take it from my mom’s palm and let it sit on mine, closely scrutinizing the gift.

I inspected each of the rainbow colored beads. I examined the white circle in each of the different colored beads with a sloppily painted black dot within each white circle. Some of the black dots were nicely centered, while the majority was messily placed on the edge of the white circle. Small white specks disrupted the black dot, as if the creator of such

A feeling of selfishness and embarrassment passed

“fine” art did not have enough time to make the

over me but as soon as I looked at the bracelet a

finishing touches on their project. The design

sense of calmness flooded me. The gift transformed

resembled a collection of eyes eerily staring at me,

from juvenile and tacky into cute and heart-warming.

watching my every move. A thin stretchy string held

My fake grin turned into a toothy smile, squinty eyes

all the eyes together to produce the finished product:

and all. How could I be so quick to judge? My eyes

a bracelet. How old did my aunts and mom think I

rise to look at my aunts and mom and I see what

was, five? No teenage girl would wear such a childish

seems like an elephant-sized amount of pressure

piece of jewelry.

escape off their shoulders.

I glanced over at my family, who seemed to be

“Ya like?” my mom squeals.

holding their breath waiting for my decision on their

Her eyes, the ones that have seen me blow out my

present. Their eyes smiling with hope, their sincere

birthday candles year after year, have seen me cry as I

smiles growing tired, their cheeks filling with a soft

fought to go to my new school after the big move,

red shade. I couldn’t upset them, so I undressed the

have seen me embarrassed after losing my swim race

bracelet from its plastic wrapping and slipped it on

and excited as I made my first goal in lacrosse, the

my wrist. There was no sparkle, no shine. The point

eyes that have seen me ashamed when I was cut

of jewelry is to attract attention and this bracelet was

from my high school field hockey team, the eyes that

most definitely going to do just that, but not the

watched me from the back of my Hebrew school

attention one would want. No one would say, “How

classroom when I was too nervous to go alone, the

pretty” or “Where did you get that beautiful

eyes that saw me anxiously leave to take my drivers

bracelet.” Really, it was nothing special. I flashed half

test, the eyes that teared up as I left for college the the writer’s mind | 37

very first time and the eyes that welcomed me back

As the years passed, my bracelet stayed with me. It

home when I returned for summer, slowly fill back

was glued to my wrist through my high school

up with hope. She picks up the wrapper that I

classes, where I would twist and pull on it, during

nonchalantly tossed onto the kitchen table and

showers, through the tossing and turning of my

passes it in my direction. As the wrapper approaches

slumber, through fake punching fights with my sister,

me, I cannot help but think of how selfish I acted

when the kids I babysat ripped it off my wrist to see

towards my family over something that only

it on theirs, lasting through the crowded music

represents the love they have for me.

concerts and parties, surviving the multiple times I

After moving to New Jersey and leaving the

had mistaken it for a hair tie and had to quickly fix

maternal side of the family in Long Island, I realize

my error, under oversized ocean waves that crashed

how difficult it’s been for my mom and her two

on me, and during workout sessions. Until one day,

sisters. They have always been so close and the

in the middle of my Spanish class lecture, it broke.

separation definitely had an affect on our phone bill.

Snapped. The rainbow eyes sprawled across the

But I look at them now, so comfortable and in high

floor. As my classmates’ eyes followed the rolling

spirits. They seem to look even more satisfied after

beads, I tried my best to pick them up—repair the

seeing their parents, my grandparents, after a long

damage, but it was useless. I placed the handful of

weekend in Florida. During their family reunion, they

beads into my backpack, hoping to save some of the

thought of their families back home and were

luck, some of the connection. Luckily, there was an

generous enough to bring back a token. And then it

extra bracelet for an unfortunate occasion such as

hit me. I shouldn’t have cared what the bracelet

this. Problem solved. Or, so I thought.

looked like but what it meant. Although my mom’s

School ended and I spent my days caring for a

fashion sense is much more sophisticated than a

vivacious group of five and six year old girls.

stretchy stringed beaded bracelet, I should have

Keeping a promise, I headed to my bunk’s room to

thought of the meaning behind it. My aunts and

change into my bathing suit to aid my girls in the big

mom look at each other, giggling, with true smiles

pool. Locking the door behind me, I had the privacy

after I sincerely accepted the present when the

to change into the attractive one-piece bathing suit.

wrapper hits the table in front of me.

The hot air clung to my body and the air in the room

I picked up the wrapper to take a closer look. In a

felt heavier as each second passed. My sticky skin

bold and electrifying font said, “Evil-Eye Bracelet.” I

thwarted the process, as I attempted to hastily slip

read the description. The “eyes” on the bracelet are

my legs into the black and pink Speedo, when I

evil eyes. In many cultures the evil eye is given to

froze. Before I could prevent the unimaginable from

send misfortune to others. Wearing the bracelet

happening, it happened. I swung my arms in every

keeps away the bad spirits and glares. To add to my

direction, palms open, fists clenching, hoping to

newfound luck, I now had a connection, not only

avoid the situation that was about to take place. The

towards my grandma but my entire family. Despite

beds scattered across the off-white tile floors. I could

some of us living in New Jersey, New York, or

hear each bead drop, creating a melody of different

Florida, we would always be attached through the

sounds as they landed on benches, shoes, and

bracelet.

puddles of pool water. I didn’t know what to do. I

the writer’s mind | 38

didn’t move, I didn’t think, I didn’t breathe. I simply

thoughts in my head amplified. I felt the cold metal

watched the colorful eyes roll to different sections of

between my fingers and my eyes, blinded by the sun,

the heated room, which seemed to be growing

and focused in on the eye. It wasn’t colorful, it

hotter. I could feel my already red cheeks develop

wasn’t a simple, messy, black dot, it wasn’t what I

into a deeper more flushed red. My sweaty skin

was used to or originally given but it was the symbol.

before was nothing compared to what it was now.

A single eye stared back at me. My surroundings

My eyes darted from bead to bead; my mind finally

slowly became unmuted and I smiled at my friend.

grasped what was going on. The only thing that ran

Not the half-smile, but a full smile, squinty eyes and

through my head was how I would find every bead

all. I could not put the necklace on fast enough.

that crashed to the cluttered filthy floor, but I

Without saying anything, I passed the necklace back

couldn’t move. Life finally jolted back into my body,

to my friend, turned around, and pulled my hair off

I squeezed into the deadly bathing suit and began

my neck, assuming my friend would know to hook it

picking up any bead I could find, tossing the Dora the

around my neck.

Explorer and High School Musical backpacks in all directions. It wasn’t until I held the cluster of eyes in

She did. As the necklace settled on my skin, I felt complete, I felt connected.

my hands that the emotions started sinking in. This was the last extra bracelet, the string of beads that have been residing on my wrist for years were gone, and a piece of me missing.

The next few weeks, I felt as if my arm was naked.

Daily I would touch my wrist, expecting to feel the circular beads under my fingers, the warmth of my grandparents in my memory. The initial absence of the bracelet would worry me, I didn’t know where it could have fallen off but I would snap back to reality and recall the incident. It took time to adapt to an empty wrist, but I did it. Then I received another gift, this time from a friend.

A brown bag, with a golden ribbon tied into a bow. It looked so simple. I reached around the tissue paper and pulled out cardboard, the size of half a dollar bill. The gold chain rested on the white cardboard. Magnetized by the shimmering chain, I almost bypassed the small circle, which dangled from the sparkling chain. Trying to catch the spinning circle, I noticed an engraving of a graphic that immediately caught my attention. The crowd of children and coworkers behind me muted while the

the writer’s mind | 39

BONKIE, MY RAG

where it could have went. The two minutes that he

Kellie Larsen

was missing were the longest two minutes of my childhood. I always thought of my blanket as a boy. I

A new baby enters the world on September 15,

cannot remember why Bonkie is a he, but I think it is

1991. This beautiful, baby girl is greeted by loving

comforting to know that he is protecting me at all

parents, adoring grandparents, and an excited older

times. “He” was much easier than saying Bonkie

brother. The whole world is waiting for her. She is

each time I referred to it.

clueless at the time, but her life, full of possibilities, is starting now. This baby is me.

Panic stricken, I closed my eyes to imagine where he could have gone. Each toy, gadget, and aisle

The first gift I have been given, other than the

rushes through my head. Colors, blue, red, orange,

obvious, life, is Bonkie. At the time of receiving this

yellow, stream through my memory. My heart beat as

precious thing, I was not aware how much it would

if it were shocked with an electric pulse. These two

impact my life. Bonkie, bright, colorful, quilt,

minutes of him missing were the longest minutes of

imprinted with an elephant, is the most beautiful

my life. He is missing, he is stolen, he is ripped,

blanket a baby could ever own.

flooded my head. Bonkie represents home. My

Walking from store to store with my parents, Bonkie followed me like a puppy would follow his

home, clean, bright, loving, tender, just as Bonkie.

Without this blanket, I will not feel home.

new owner around. I was five and took Bonkie

I remembered the fish- shape floaty. I walked over

everywhere. My little curious eyes wondered from

to it. There, on the floor, he was lying. Bonkie was

shelf to shelf as we browsed the pool store for

not hurt. I held him close to me hoping to never

chlorine for what I knew as, the giant hole filled with

misplace him again.

water in my backyard, that I would not be allowed to

Twenty years later, he is still alive. Bonkie, once

use unless I was wearing blow up circles around my

big, bright, colorful, imprinted with an elephant, now

arms. Fascinating colors, pink like my lollypop,

small, ripped, tattered, dull, faded, discolored,

orange like shorts, blue like the ocean, and green like

embedded with character, soaked with tears, trips to

the grass on my front lawn, filled the shelves and I

Maryland, North and South Carolina, Georgia,

walked side by side with my mom and dad.

Florida, Cancun, and the Bahamas, splattered with

Distracted by the fish shaped floaty on the shelf, I

apple juice, two cheerleading championship titles,

veered away from my parents and placed Bonkie on

jokes, smiles, giggles, warmth for the winter,

the ground. I managed to let Bonkie slip out from

refreshing

my hand. My fingers did not feel the slip, as my eyes

protection from bullies, broken hearts, failed dreams,

were stuck to the spectacular toy on the shelf. I was

excitement for future achievements, goals, dreams,

surrounded by a new world. Pool smell, the scent I

inspirations, enchanted with fairy tales, the smell of

knew from indoor pools that were in hotels I visited,

home, mom, dad, hold all of these things.

overwhelmed the air. This was a smell that I was not used to.

coolness

for

hot

summer

nights,

My greatest adventure, thus far, is coming to college. Although I only live eighty miles away, I

Shortly after examining the peculiar floaty on the

cannot help but feel lonely and distant from the only

shelf, the realization that Bonkie was gone came to

place I call home. Often times, I find myself asking

life. I panicked, looking in every direction, wondering the writer’s mind | 40

why I do this to myself. Why do I come to school far

minor

away from my loved ones, the ones that have cared

loneliness,

for me since day one? I think this answer is quite

connection, and constant over thinking, with a

obvious. I need to grow up. I need some

variety of factors involved including age, gender,

independence in my life. I need to learn what it is like

culture, and rigidity can affect a college student, such

to be an adult. These things may me true but this

as myself.

or

major

symptoms,

depression,

causing

sadness,

anxiety,

yearning

for

does not take away from the desire to be home in the

I arrived at Rowan University at the age of

one place where we feel most secure. Security is a

seventeen, three, short, weeks away from being

funny thing. At times, I feel a sense of security in

eighteen. My family, mom, dad, and two brothers,

knowing that I have the ability to be on my own and

carried all of my belongings into the small space, I

take care of my self. Handling the billing for my

had to split with another person. As we unpacked

house, dealing with miserable roommates, cleaning,

and rearranged the room, I could feel the anxiety

cooking, doing laundry, running errands, handling

building within me. I was so excited, but as time

things my mom would normally do for me, are all

grew closer to the only familiar faces I knew leaving,

things that make me an adult. Other times, I kick

I grew sad. They leave. As I stand in the parking lot,

myself to thinking I could do it alone, without the

watching them pull away, I can feel my heart skip a

help from my parents. There are so many things that

beat as if I was being left alone on a deserted island. I

I need the assistance of a parent with, paying the

close my eyes and think back to Mom’s arms around

bills, cleaning the hair out of the shower drain,

me, hugging me, telling me I will be fine. Tears flood

cooking meals other than macaroni and cheese, and

my eyes, but only one streams down my face. My

not mixing my colored laundry with my whites. I

body grew numb. Numb to the idea that I will turn

have this desire to be home, where I know I will be

around and walk into my new home, a home that I

safe. We develop an attachment to the safe place

will never refer to as home, but a place that I will be

where we have grown up.

staying for quite some time. This place is filled with

This brings to mind the thought of being

new, unfamiliar faces. This place is big and scary.

homesick. I ask myself what being homesick is like.

With all of these thoughts, I gain the strength to

Homesickness, frequently occurs when one travels

open my eyes and look at the new world I have just

and may be exacerbated by unfamiliar environments

entered. Emotions, excitement, curiosity, eagerness,

or foreign cultural contexts with new surroundings

and interest, seem to ease my pain. I open my eyes to

and atmospheres, especially common in young

this intimidating, fascinating place.

adults, universal physiological issues, containing

As time passed, so did my excitement. I began to feel nervous, anxious, sad, because I missed the only place I knew, inside and out. Sure I was getting to know the campus and my surroundings, but I was not used to being completely on my own, waking up to an alarm, without breakfast cooked for me, no lunch packed with a note inside, no dinner prepared on the dining room table, no fancy dessert to enjoy

the writer’s mind | 41

with the family. I began considering the possibilities.

A baby is born into this gigantic world. Loving,

Homesickness affects children and young adults,

excited family members welcome this baby. This

rather than adults, girls are more likely to suffer from

baby is given a gift. This gift is a baby blanket. This

feelings of sadness and depression, about missing

innocent baby does not know how much this gift will

home, the variety of cultures I was experiencing was

influence the rest of its life. Sometimes, we need to

quite different than what I was used to, and my

see the importance in the little things we receive. For

constant routine was interrupted. These symptoms

me, my first gift, Bonkie, has been there for my

significantly affected me. I fell into the age bracket

adventures and journeys this far in life. This blanket

homesickness relates to. Clearly I am a girl, with all

has inspired me to not be afraid to enter new,

sorts of emotions running through my body. The

peculiar, and unfamiliar worlds. Through this rag, I

school routine I was used to consisted of, waking up

have learned to not fear the unknown because home

to mom’s voice, eating a home cooked breakfast,

will always be with me. The security that home

packing my backpack, lunch made by mom included,

brings to me will be carried with me in everything I

car ride by my personal taxi driver, mom, school for

do through a simple piece of cloth. Overcoming a

eight hours, dinner prepared by my chef of a mother,

universal psychological issue was made much easier

with the family at our wooden dining room table,

because I had one thing to make me feel at home.

homework, television, then bed. My new routine

Although he holds tears and sorrow, he also holds

consisted of the buzzing of an alarm clock, rolling

life changing memories, laughter, love, and smiles.

out of bed, grabbing a granola bar, walking to class,

He is a symbol of home. I know I will always have

where I did not know anyone, and the professor did

home with me.

not know me, sitting in my miniature dorm room with a girl who spoke no English, doing endless hours of homework, and going to bed. This routine change was enough to drive me to feeling symptoms of homesick. I could feel my sadness and yearning for home building up within me.

As months passed, these feelings subsided. The only thing that remained constant through this time was Bonkie. This beaten rag keeps me alive. He speaks to me. He tells me I have nothing to be sad about. He helps me with the feelings that consume me. There is nothing this worn down blanket cannot fix like a broken heart, a cold, or an F on my research paper. I know even on the saddest, weakest day, I will have him to comfort me when no one else is there. Bonkie is home. Bonkie is security. I think this small amount of home is needed on the endeavors I embark on.

the writer’s mind | 42

THE FIVE

about what would happen, but we encouraged her to

Kacey Terzini

keep thinking that way. Seeing her mother struggle everyday must have been awful. Someone she loved

We all sat on Blair’s king- sized bed as she stood

and cared about so much just fighting for air and

by her closet throwing her old clothes at us like we

strength. Being an only child, Blair called us her

were at an auction. In her bright purple room, each

sisters; therefore, she would come to us when she

clothing item popped as she threw it up in the air.

was upset. What do you say to someone whose

Brittny, Christina, Steph, and I jumped at each article

mother is withering away at your very own eyes?

she threw claiming what we wanted. We had been

How do you tell someone it is going to be ok, when

best friends since we were freshman at Pascack

it really isn’t? The last couple months were getting

Valley, so this had been going on for a long time. We

hard, not only for her mother, but for all of us. She

did it once every couple months. It was our thing,

was constantly being rushed to the hospital.

and we got a kick out of it. Britt and Blair’s closet

Countless nights Blair would send out a mass texts

was the best to raid because they’d wear something

hoping one of us would come to her side when her

once and be done with it.

father whisked her mother away to the hospital.

“I want that pink shirt, and don’t make me wrestle

The tears fell on the bed. They darkened the light

you for it.” Christina jumped over my lap crushing

blue comforter like rain drops on pavement. All the

my legs to grab the shirt.

worry, sadness, and grief build up in each little drop

You could hear Blair’s mothers cough from inside

hit the blanket like a rock. The tears had left her eyes,

the room. It was piercing and alarming. Worry

as the pain and sadness pushed back inside her. The

consumed Blair’s face, but she continued to throw

light stain remained on the comforter, like the pain

her clothes around as we all quieted down. Looking

that still remained in all of us.

at one another we tried not to show any emotion,

We all knew it was coming, but we weren’t sure

even though it was hard not to. Then it started again,

how soon. That’s what was so upsetting about the

only this time it wasn’t stopping.

situation. We were all in our first semester of

“Michael, Michael please come here. I need help.”

Blair’s mom’s panicked voice flooded the room.

sophomore year, enjoying school and what is had in store for us. Although we had our differences, our

Blair jumped up and shut her door. As she turned

bond was stronger then most. The five of us talked

to face us tears swelled up in her eyes and she

at least one a day, sometimes it would get annoying

jumped on the bed.

but I wouldn’t change it. The weekend Blair’s mother

Her mother had been sick for months. Lung

passed we were all home thankfully. It was almost

cancer they said it was, and a rare form of it. This

like her mother was waiting, waiting so Blair had us

wasn’t a tumor or mass, it was a liquid that settled in

there for support.

her lung and was close to impossible to get rid of.

Pulling up to the small suburban home, Blair

She went through all the treatment, and lost all of her

frantically ran out of the door. Like always, she was

hair. When she walked I was worried she would

dressed to the nines. You could see the sadness

collapse and break a bone. Blair said her mom would

highlighted on her face, but she had herself put

fight through it, and that she was strong enough to

together perfectly. Getting into the car she gave us a

overcome it. Deep down we knew Blair was unsure the writer’s mind | 43

half smile and remarked, “Lets go.” The windows

With each hug Blair received her shoulders perked

were down and the cool breeze filled the car. The

up.

music was blasting as if we were at a concert. We

The room had the smell of a garden, and the

pulled into the gravel lot at Becker Funeral Home on

flowers in the room enhanced that image. When it

Kinderkamack Road, which was busiest road in our

seemed that the room couldn’t fit anymore people

area. The parking lot was like a death trap, cars

everyone quieted down and Blair stood up in the

squeezed to fit like Tetris blocks. If that wasn’t bad

front. Her mothers casket was centered behind her

as it is, the gravel made you walk like you were a

with flowers all around it. The night before the wake

baby deer. Each step we took we laughed and prayed

Blair had told us she wanted to say something

we wouldn’t wipe out.

special, something so that people would remember

As I hobbled down the lot I reached over and

how amazing her mother was. Her presence and

grabbed Blair’s hand. Blair and I had been the first

attitude made it seem like she had this rehearsed a

out of the group to become friends. Sitting across

million times. She stood in front of the crowd of

from each other in math class first day freshman year

people like there was no one there. When she spoke

I thought she was the biggest nerd. Her Juicy bag

it was as if she had it planned for months.

was thrown onto the desk as if she had the space all

“My beautiful mother, whom many of you know

to herself. Her stuff landed on my desk and she

as Riva, who my friends know as Presh, who always

didn’t seem to care.

went above and beyond, who dealt with my

“People around here aren’t very friendly.” Blair said in a sour tone.

crankiness and attitude, who showed my dad what is was like to be loved, who fought this dieses like no

Whipping her hair back and tying it into a messy

other, the women who made me the girl I am today,

bun everyone was staring at her. Something about

who have been there for many of you, the lady that

her made me like her, but I wasn’t exactly sure what

would never stop working, my mother was a fighter.”

it was. I squeezed her clammy hand letting her know

Her words came out and melted everyone’s heart.

I was there for her.

We fought back the tears to stay strong for her, but

Funerals always have such an eerie feeling, but this

as she spoke we were unable too. Not a single tear

was different. The sun was shining in the sky and the

dropped from her perfectly lined eyes. She was the

clouds were as blue as a baby boy’s room. The

strongest of our click, and she had proven this even

anxiousness and grief flooded our bodies as we

truer with her strength. The person we turned to,

walked through the stark white double doors. This

who picked us up when we were down, giving us the

was her mother, why was she so much calmer then

best advice in the world, a sister to us, our best

we were? Walking like she was on the runway her

friend, she was our role model. Her courage made us

black dress hugged her small stature. Her hair was

idolize her. Her mother was a fighter, and Blair

lightly curled with just enough bounce in each curl.

carried the same trait. When she was finished she

The pinstriped blazer made her look as though she

ended on a short and sweet note, “Don’t be sad that

was going to a business meeting. The place was

my mother is gone, be happy that she pain free and

packed with people that were paying their respects. It

always with us. She was too classy for cancer.”

was nice seeing faces from our high school days.

the writer’s mind | 44

The five of us stayed there till everyone had cleared out. Blair’s father was a mess, but Blair told

mom “Debalicious” and complaining about boys to her.

him that they grow from this. Blair’s father, who was

That night quickly turned into morning as the

always happy, always made us laugh, cooked us

five of us sat in Blair’s bed. Two bottles of wine

countless dinners, picked us up many drunken

empty on her dresser, and crumbs all over the bed

nights, gave us money for stupid stuff, listened to our

we laughed like crazy. They say tragedy brings people

drama, put crazy ideas in our heads, encouraged us to

closer together, and as if we could get any closer that

stay out late, held a garage sale with us, made fun of

day had done it. We woke up the next day with

Blair none stop, treated us like his own daughters,

intertwined legs and morning breath. The sun

who drove around with us yelling at people, cried

pierced through the window and fell onto the light

when we left for school, he is a wonderful man. His

blue comforter. Where it once was stained with tears,

sadness broke my heart, and all of us felt for him.

brightness took its place. After a rough couple years,

We could tell how big the room was when

enough tears to create a river, pain and suffering, we

everyone had left; it made us realize how many

had gone through it together. With the bond that the

people were actually there. Gathering up loads of

five of us had we could push through anything.

flowers gave us a good laugh. Trying to juggle two bouquets Steph spilled the water all down her dress, so typical of her. It was nice that in such a horrible situation, the five of us still found time to laugh at one another. Back at Blair’s house people were coming over for food and wine. Mostly family and friends, but all that mattered to Blair was that we were there. As she walked through the people she would glance back at us and roll her eyes. Blair wasn’t one for socializing. Whenever we would go somewhere Blair’s famous line was always, “I hate meeting and socializing with people.” I always said that that’s where the bitch in her came out. The first time she met my mom was out to lunch at a sushi restaurant. She barely spoke, and each word seemed painful coming out of her mouth.

“So how did you two meet, you seem to be so close already,” my mom asked across the table.

“Oh, just in math. Yeah, we are close,” quietly came out of Blair’s mouth.

Later on in the day she told me meeting parents for the first time freaked her out. It’s funny how things quickly changed from being shy to calling my

the writer’s mind | 45

JOURNEY TO MOTHERHOOD

winter skies hovering above as if to symbolize the

Jamie Mahoney

huge blanket waiting to embrace the life I was about to bring into the world. As I admired the day ahead

The morning of January 11, 2007, at half past

of me, I felt a surge of water gush underneath me as

seven, began like most other mornings since I had

if I was sitting on a beach, at the edge of an ocean’s

left work two weeks ago. Lying in bed, back aching,

current, being gently stroked by a wave. I had dreamt

in a hurry to go nowhere, with nothing but the sound

of this day, read about this day, talked to my doctor

of my fan humming in the background and the

about this day, and yet for a split second, was

distant clink from my husband’s spoon hitting his

unaware of what was happening to my body. As

breakfast bowl, I stared at the ceiling and wondered

quickly as the confusion came, it went even faster, as

if this was going to be the day. My attention diverted,

I leaped out of bed and dripped my way to the

which was usual those days, I propped myself up on

bathroom, realizing that this was going to be the day!!

a myriad of pillows, reached for the remote, and

The day I had been waiting for, for nine long months

turned on Good Morning America. Diane Sawyer’s

and five days.

voice was like my morning coffee, which I missed

I called for my husband Scott. He is an

more than anything. Watching the weather forecast, I

attorney and loves to read anything and everything;

thought, Which of these seven days will he be coming? Maybe

especially in the quietness of his mornings. With full

tomorrow....ooh, ooh, Saturday! Wouldn’t it be great if he

knowledge of interrupting his solitude, I yelled

came on Saturday? Cold but sunny, the perfect day to begin

downstairs that my water had just broken. He asked

this journey!!!

me if I was sure, which beckoned me to throw the

You would think, at this point, because I had

nearest tangible object at him - as if I could possibly

been carrying my first child for nine months and five

be unsure of what was happening to my body. But I

days that I would want him out of me as soon as

answered him anyway, realizing this was not the time

possible and yet because the due date was so near, it

for sarcasm. While he called his firm to tell them that

made me want to hold on a little longer. This being,

he would not be at work, I called my doctor. Since

this new soul had fluttered in my belly for the first

there hadn’t been any contractions, he instructed me

time not so long ago. He would hiccup and kick after

to take a shower, eat a big breakfast, and get to the

I ate something sweet as if he was trying to say, “Hi

hospital. I was shocked at his lack of urgency, but he

mommy, I am here and growing, and chocolate ice

assured me that this could be a long process since

cream is yummy.” We had never met yet in nine

there was no sign of contractions and since this was

short months and five days, I had already fallen

my first baby. Following his instruction, I got in the

completely, head over heels in love. Yes, let me hold

shower, my emotions almost as heavy as my belly,

on for a little while longer as this unborn child was

excited at the prospect of meeting my first child

already my greatest accomplishment, my most

today. I made all the appropriate calls, including to

cherished gift, my greatest inspiration.

my mother who was nine hundred miles away, in St.

The wind started to pick up. With my thoughts

Louis, and told her to get on a plane as soon as

again diverted, I looked to my left at the view outside

possible. My husband and I were on our way to the

my bathroom window and marvelled at the blue

hospital within an hour of that first surge of water.

the writer’s mind | 46

Our lives were about to change in ways we never

The maternity ward was on the third floor, and as we

knew possible.

exited the elevator, right in front of us was a sign that

Just as no one could have possible prepared me

said MATERNITY and a big red arrow that pointed

for what was to come after my baby was born, no

us to the left. Scott and I were with a group of three

one could have told me what to expect during labor.

other expecting couples and the nurse that gave the

I did my homework. I read all the pregnancy

tour, Susan, was very calming. She spoke in a quiet

books: Belly Laughs by Jenny McCarthy (my personal

voice as she pointed where we would go first if we

favorite of all the books I read), What to Expect When

were coming in as a scheduled patient. Paperwork, who

Expecting, by Heidi Murkoff otherwise known as

wants to fill out paperwork while in labor? I wondered

America’s pregnancy bible and several others that

before she had a chance to say it, where an

were borrowed from girlfriends who already had

unscheduled patient would go, before I realized that

their babies, whom I admired because of their ability

she was referring to a patient that came in through

to “do it all,” while their children exhibited a

the emergency room versus one who had a

seemingly normal development, took a Lamaze class,

scheduled date to either be induced or have a

which the hospital I was delivering my baby at

cesarean section, which isn’t an all that uncommon

offered at a price of forty five dollars, for which my

occurrence these days. One in every three babies in

husband gladly paid as it made me feel better, and

the U.S. is born by Cesarean section – about 32.3%

although he wouldn’t admit it, lessoned his anxiety in

according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control

the process, all in the hopes of being as prepared as

and Prevention’s Center for Health Statistics.

possible for that very moment. Even after all of that,

Anyway, as we entered a delivery room, the pale

I still felt I wasn’t prepared. So, I decided it was

blue and pink flowered wallpaper warmly greeted us.

necessary to book a tour of the maternity ward at

The delivery bed looked just like the ones you see on

Virtua hospital.

TV as did the monitor next to it that would be reading my baby’s heartbeat while I’m in labor.

“A tour of the hospital? Is this really necessary?”

Scott asked.

“Yes, Honey. I have never been in a hospital but for when I was ten when I got a concussion at school after banging my head up against the brick wall of my school gymnasium. I think it’s a necessary part of this process. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.” I replied.

With a smirk on his face and a quick roll of the eyes, he said “I know better than that.”

It was settled.

There is nothing like the smell of a hospital. It doesn’t matter which one you are in, they all have the distinct bleachie, ammonia, medicinal, this place is

Anxiety and my baby fluttered in my belly. I was excited and nervous all at the same time. By the expression on Scott’s face, so was he.

It’s funny now, when I look back on it, but when it came right down to actually having the baby, none of the things I did to get ready for this baby’s arrival mattered. No one and nothing could have ever prepared me for what was about to happen to my body. Just as a part of me wanted to question what all the hype was about with regards to labor - why everyone made such a big deal about the pain, depicting women screaming in agony before they even started pushing (after all it had been four hours since my water broke and I was doing just fine) I

filled with sick people, smell. It was a little unsettling. the writer’s mind | 47

began to feel the first inkling of what they were

only hours ago, had gotten on a plane and come to

talking about. Where the hell is my mom? I needed my

my side. She looked at me, stroked my matted hair,

mom more than ever before.

and told me, as only a mother would, how beautiful I

After checking my cervix for the third time in

was and how proud of me she was. I knew

four hours, they realized my “progression” hadn’t

everything was going to be okay. She would not miss

gotten as far as they would have liked. That was a

her first grandchild being born. She would be there

nice way for my doctors to say that my cervix wasn’t

to support me, hold my hand, and tell me everything

cooperating with the rest of my body to aid in getting

was going to be okay.

my baby out. So the good doctor decided to put me

12:00 am. Thirteen hours into labor, the epidural

on oxytocin, a drug that helps in the progress of

began to wear off. For two and a half grueling hours,

cervical dilation. This is when the fun really began!

my husband, my mother, and mother- in-law rooted

At no other time in my life did the phrase zero to

me on, fed me ice chips, wiped away my tears of

sixty mean more to me than at that moment. In a

frustration, and watched me fall in and out of sleep

matter of minutes my body went from being pain

while my body prepared for the real battle that lay

free to feeling like daggers were being jabbed into my

ahead.

abdomen at ten minute intervals. My body felt like it

2:00 am.

was fighting a war, with my abdomen and lower back

The news I had so longingly awaited came:

at the front lines. I proclaimed, to anyone who would

“YOU HAVE REACHED TEN CENTIMETERS

listen, long before ever getting pregnant that I was

AND IT’S TIME TO PUSH!”

not going to try to be a hero during labor. There

My mother always told me that when I had

would be an epidural, a month before the baby was

children I would know what real love was. I believed

to be born if possible. So staying true to my

her because we didn’t have an easy life, with her

proclamation, I demanded one. The epidural only

being a single mother, and yet there was never a day

briefly conquered the battle being fought inside my

that went by when I didn’t feel her devotion. I knew

belly. My body must have known it was the calm

that no matter what I did, she would always love me

before the storm as I soon had an overwhelming

and see me through. She always called me her

need to sleep.

Sunshine, and I believed her when she told me I was

Upon waking, there beside me, was the most

the light in her life. She may not have known, but she

beautiful woman in the world sitting next to my bed,

was mine too. I wanted to be the kind of mother she

my husband on the other side. My dear mother, my

was; I was frightened I never would.

best friend and my rock, the woman who gave life to

Two more grueling hours passed. The “hotspot,”

me thirty years before, who probably envisioned this

on the left side of my abdomen, where my

day since the day she laid eyes on me, who had gone

contractions were the worst was in full force. The

through this experience a total of four times and

daggers were sharper, more concise in their aim.

knew me better than anyone else in the world, except

“I should have got a fucking c-section,” I yelled.

maybe my husband, and would know exactly what to

“Where is the Doctor? I want this baby out, I can’t

say and what to do when the pain became too much

take it anymore!”

for me, and for whom I had talked to on the phone

the writer’s mind | 48

I told my husband that I wanted him to be my

felt the day she held each of us for the first time. I

voice. I told him that if things went bad, I didn’t

wanted to be a better person and a better woman. I

want to be one of those women who screamed and

wanted to slow down and enjoy this time, which

made a scene. I couldn’t take the sudden pressure on

people told me would go just too darn fast. I wanted

my bottom. What is going on?

to forget my needs and put his before. There are so

They say that seconds after a baby is born, the

many things in that moment that I wanted, but I

mother forgets all about the pain endured during

especially wanted to make him proud and be the best

childbirth. I never believed them.

mother I could be to him.

4:19 am, on January 12, 2007, completely

The ways in which he has made my “wants” of

exhausted, I pushed my last push, as I felt him exit

that cool winter morning come true are numerous.

my body. Pink and bloodied, trembling as his naked

The journey of parenthood that began five years ago

body left the warmth of mine, he was laid on my

will continue for the rest of my life. Each day that

belly. Our hands touched for the first time. Scissors

goes by, he gets a day older, a day wiser, and a day

held by my husband separated us physically once and

closer to entering a world of his own. In this

for all as the umbilical cord was cut. His tiny fingers

realization and looking back at those beautiful blue

gripped mine and our eyes met. I looked around;

skies on the morning this adventure began, I

tears streamed from everyone in the room who loved

understand the internal struggle with wanting to rid

this baby and who loved me. His naked body against

my body of the being that had taken over, and yet

mine, I offered him my breast. I looked at him, and

hold on for a little while longer.

realized, those before me who were triumphant in the war against labor were right. In my arms was the most beautiful soul I had ever seen, and in my heart; pure elation. There was no room in my body for pain.

We named him Connor Andrew. Connor because we’re a family proud of our Irish heritage, and Andrew after an Uncle he never met – my youngest brother that we lost twelve years ago. Connor was seven pounds, five ounces and had no hair. He had a perfectly pink face and as my husband proudly shouted for the entire world to hear, he had all ten fingers and toes!

This bundle nestled in my bosom, at just over seven pounds and not quite two feet long, with the sweet smell of an angel, had inspired me in ways I never knew possible. Suddenly there was purpose in my life, other than what I knew prior to this moment. I thought about my mother, and how she

the writer’s mind | 49

THE HIKE

it felt good to be back on solid ground as I took my

Kayla Ewing

belongings and stood outside the trail entrance.

My eyes gazed from the bottom of the dark

The only thing between me and nature was an

brown trunk all the way to the green clump of trees

overhang of a tarp with five and a half foot poles and

that kissed the clouds. I looked up at the skyscrapers

the fertile ground was not exactly the most

of trees growing taller as if one stood on the

comfortable of mattresses. I wasn’t in my home, I

shoulders of another. I was excited to experience the

wasn’t in my bed, I wasn’t thinking about what

unknown. Adrenaline and a sense of adventure

television show to watch, nor what I was going to

captured the crescent moon on one another’s faces.

wear the following day. What I did imagine was what

As I began to ascend to the top, I looked around

the next day would bring me. I tried to put myself in

at those who were also coming along; most of those

the place of a true hiker, something us novice hikers

with parallel ages, although some older, and some

tend to do. I pictured myself standing tall on the

younger. Each contributed to the challenge of

mountain; looking below me. I imagined just being

different abilities and capabilities.

there, but not what it took to get there. I did not

The line of vines outlined the trails and the rows

think about the 2,800 and some odd steps it would

of trees like fans on either side created the path. The

take me, or the 3,100 and some odd breaths I would

first step and those that followed were uneasy

inhale, before the 80 beads of sweat that would drip

because I could can feel each bump and bruise.

off of my face, or the 13,500 and some beats my

Straight ahead was where we went, not realizing the

heart would take, but I imagined the one single stare

incline of about forty five degrees, and becoming

as if it lasted forever and the one moment that took

steeper. Each step was led solely by concentration.

my breath away as I looked over the horizon, the sun

Foot placement was like a puzzle and I had to figure

like oranges warming my face. The snap of a branch

out where the next piece went. My pack began to

outside brought me back to the inside of my tent

weigh heavier and heavier on my shoulders. The

staring at the ceiling. Cozy in my sleeping bag, I laid

large breakfast only made me slower; it felt like

until the crescendo of Locusts hummed me to sleep.

gravity was hitting me hard on the ground. There

Arising in the morning to the smell of potatoes amongst half-eaten firewood was the only thing to

were ten steps to every pause, every inhale, and every exhale.

keep me going. It was a bittersweet morning, neither

The group of us only lasted the first five minutes

too hot nor cold. The air was fresh as I soaked it into

until the strong and the weak were put in their place.

my lungs. Today was the big day. I put on jeans and a

Three hikers ahead took strides that nearly doubled

rose-colored sweatshirt, laced up my shoes, and filled

the rest, hopping from the first to the third and

my pack with essentials, mostly water. The team

skipping the boulder in between. The slower hikers

loaded into the big white van, seating about twelve of

took the steady approach, looking before they leapt,

us as we whipped through the ins and outs of the

and pausing between each step. Not strong enough

mountains, being swayed back and forth. I felt my

to take the lead, nor asthmatic enough to fall behind,

ears pop as we drove along the paved roads with

I was sandwiched in between, but I wasn’t alone.

increasing altitudes. When we arrived at the trailhead,

the writer’s mind | 50

My best friend Annie was at my side. Her fiery

their body in order for internal temperatures to rise.

red hair hung together with a rubber band swung

Each one, like a slinky; bobbing back and forth as it

from side to side in the middle of her back. We

crawled on the branch before it would settle in a

laughed at the group ahead of us, making them out

resting spot. Creating a tent that masked in the sun

to be the “big shots.” Being together was all that we

was most important for the creatures. It would grow

needed, even in a room full of people, the two of us

into a beautiful butterfly with wings, getting to the

laughed and enjoyed one another’s company like

top of the mountain much faster.

nothing else mattered. The laughter echoed bouncing

Annie and I were determined to get to the top

back and forth between the trees, being heard by the

much faster too. We saw where the group ahead had

people below. As we began to distance ourselves, the

stopped. They overlooked the boulders that casted

group

shadows into the depths of the mountain. I felt like I

became

smaller

ahead

and

behind,

disintegrating into the shadows.

was at the end. Still only being half way up the

Around the first quarter of a mile, the faint

mountain, I looked over the vast scenery below, my

whispers of people’s voices below quickly turned

eyes feeling the sun touch, midway through the day,

mute. A rough rounded bench lay in the middle of

after climbing so high, after a much needed break, a

the path signaling a five-minute rest. The bark was

halt in the climb, in order to catch my breath, even if

marked by those that stepped over it time and again,

it means losing track of time for just one minute,

engraving, “John loves Alison,” or, “Mark was here.”

before we continue on, before I gathered up my

Annie grabbed the piece of mountain that lay below

things, I sat there, I soaked it in, I feel a sense of

our feet, gripping it hard in one hand and pressing it

peace, although it’s not yet over, it feels like I had

onto the bark bench.

done something great.

“Annie and Kayla were X 2007” remains on the outskirts of the trunk for everyone to see. We were both the kind of people that needed to leave our mark, whether or not we would return again, it didn’t matter, but sentimental people we were.

Annie and I gathered our belongings and our eyes ascended to the trail above where boulders lay high.

Looking back felt as though a simple slip would cause a stumble backward to the starting point. My heart beat grew a little stronger as I focused my attention on what was below me instead of ahead.

Before Annie and I began to walk again we looked below us at the furry little caterpillars that seemed to swim along the tree branches. They were of all different colors and sizes, but still small when placed in the palm of our hand. They too were on mission to get where they were going, each adjusting

The average temperature at the Delaware Water Gap is about seventy-five degrees in mid September.

It was that seventy-five degrees which I felt on the outside of my face, brushing the sides of my cheek as the wind blew. The wind that touched me also touched the other hikers in their bare places. What was felt on my left side may have been felt on their right. What hit my uncovered cheek was simply unnoticed to my covered arms and legs. The wind touched me softly at about nine miles per hour; just the writer’s mind | 51

enough to make the frayed pieces of hair on my head

over, but I had to work even harder. The next step

stand tall for a second and fall down again like a

was higher than most, I didn’t think I would make it.

feather. It was just enough to move a few leaves

My three-pound bag felt like thirty hanging heavy on

scattered on the trails, it tip-toed the microscopic dirt

the tops of my shoulders. What seemed like a long

particles on the forest floor; bouncing from one

journey looked like a breeze compared to this next

place then swiftly carrying them to the next. The cool

step. We did not have equipment, or experts, or

air swayed the trees rocking them to my left and

people to help us up the side of the mountain, we did

making the insects which fly float softer with the

not have the proper footing or hiking shoes that

wind, yet harder for those against it.

most had, but we also did not have what it took to

As I felt the wind hit my face I thought about the

stop half way through and turn around. My arms

wind in other places. At beach the wind seems much

outstretched as long as my body is tall and gripped

hotter, kicking the sand pebbles up from the beach

hard on the rock high above my head. Taking my

attaching them to the sun block on my cheek. In the

footing, I had to make the next placement. As I

bitter cold of December it leaves my cheek blushed

swung the rest of my body up and over the boulder I

and wind burnt, hurting a little as it presses hard on

felt a sense of accomplishment. “I did not think I

my face.

could do it,” I said to Annie.

What I don’t think about is those who have no protection from it. Those who know what it’s like

“That was the hardest thing I have ever done,” she said back.

to feel the wind in the heat, and also in the bitter

Two hundred steps further we would be where

cold. What I don’t think about it how much they

we wanted to be. Annie was ahead of me at the time

hate it, how much they try to hide from it. All I think

and I could see her shirt which read, “Ain’t No

about is how much I like it.

Mountain High Enough,” In black lettering along

I was thinking it felt good as it brushed my face.

with the dark spots gathering the sweat after the sun

For that instant it felt like hydration to my skin. I

had beaten hard on our backs. This was the theme of

filled my lungs up with some of it, but enough could

our weekend. It was a youth group trip lead about by

go around to share. I shared it with the hikers high

our youth pastor and a few other adults. It was not

up on the mountain who sit still long enough to feel

until now that I could truly admire the message he

it. I shared it with those who move fast enough to

wanted to portray.

create more of it, or those whose attention is short

I counted down the last few steps which I took

enough to go without noticing it. The green plants

before being at the top of the mountain. My leg rose

take it in to survive, and also I without out it would

up three inches from the ground and my ankle rolled

be dead. It sooths my body and puts me at ease as I

my foot gently forward as it met the ground of that

felt it gently brushing past my face, through me and

final step. As I took that final step I felt the hard

onto the next object in its path, until all is still.

rock below me feeling like an uneven slab. The

I picked up my things and continue on for this is

gravity kept me grounded placing pressure on my

not all that is left to see. The group branches out

foot and my shoes captured the heat brought about

again. The frustration started to pound on me. I

by the friction of my socks brushing against my shoe.

thought I saw my view, I thought my journey was

As that last step approached I thought about all who

the writer’s mind | 52

had taken that same step before me. I thought about those whose toes matched mine like an impression does in the cement.

I thought about how many steps it took some people as it took about 3,000 steps of my own. I felt the blood pulsate, shooting a sensation all the way from the bottom of my foot and up my leg. As I took that final step, others could have been taking steps in other places. Some may be taking a step at that parallel moment on the top of a similar mountain; some might be taking a step backward as try to fit the picturesque moment in the lens of their camera.

As I took the final step I didn’t think about all the steps I have taken, I didn’t think about the first step I took or the last step I may take, I didn’t think about those who feel it with their bare feet on the hot rock or bury it in the sand. I didn’t think about how many steps the average person takes in a lifetime.

One of my steps was on the top of this mountain.

As my eyes gazed across the horizon the sun met me halfway. Annie and I snapped a few photos to remember the view, but it was as if the zoom was not good enough and the camera not sharp enough to capture the trees all along the mountains opposite us, the layers upon layers of rock just like the one holding me high above the ground, and the satisfaction I held in me for completing what I thought was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life.

the writer’s mind | 53

WHEN FOUND

had a deforming case of ringworm on my face and I

Joeanna Landis

was too embarrassed to go to our dinner reservation.

Leeanne chose to stay home with me, and we

There are two people, a man and a woman; both

ordered in and ate pizza instead.

of them are named Kelly Hildebrandt. The man lives

The bag stared back at me as I grabbed it. I felt

in Texas and the woman lives in Florida. One day,

awful that I had nothing for her. When I opened it,

female Kelly discovers the existence of her

the items contained inside were everything I could

complement. The rest is history. The two talk, and

ever want on my birthday.

flirt, they meet, and they marry. Something has brought them together.

When I broke the news to Leeanne that I forgot to get her a present, she laughed at me and brushed it

My twin sister is my best friend. Although we are

off. This is why I love her. She told me it was alright

not identical, we are very much alike. We have the

and that I could make it up to her, and asked me if I

same voice and the same laugh. Our hands and our

liked my gifts.

feet are the same size. We both drink equal amounts of iced tea and coffee. Although Leeanne is covered

The next day I bought her everything she could have ever wanted for her birthday.

in tattoos, weighs fifteen pounds less, drives a nicer

I think if I forget her gift this year she will still

car, usually only eats chicken nuggets, and I am one

love me just the same, and maybe laugh a little more

million times more emotional than she is, the small

about it. This easy-going friendship defines us.

differences do not distract me from the bigger

There is Meredith Grace Rittenhouse and there is

similarities or the fact that we are inseparable and

Meredith Ellen Harrington, two adopted girls from

bonded together by a force stronger than both of our

China. Both girls knew there was a piece missing

own physical strengths, which is not much, but it is

from themselves, even at the young age of two. Each

still considerably strong.

young girl would talk about wanting a sister, and

Last year, on my twentieth birthday, I guess I was

even when one of the girls gained a sister, the gap

thinking too much about myself. My sister came over

had not been filled, it seemed. One of the girls’

to me with the widest smile and a big bag with my

fathers was perusing the internet one day on a forum

name on it. I looked at it, and I looked at her. As I

filled with other parents who had also adopted

reached for the bag with a smile matching hers I

children from Jiangmen, China, around the same

thought about what I would say. I could tell her I left

time as he and his wife. The rest is history. Their

her gift somewhere, or it did not come in the mail

parents connect that these two girls are twin sisters,

yet. Or I could tell her the truth, which was that I

separated at birth, and reunited in the United States.

forgot to get her a gift. I thought back to every year

They

we spent together on our shared birthday. We would

other 6,840,507,003 people in the world. Two of

open our gifts together and compare them, even

those people have found one another 8,000 miles

though they were most likely almost similar. I would

away from home.

have

found

each

other,

despite

the

always blow out my candles with someone else and I

But what if they had not?

did not mind. I loved sharing my special day with my

What if Meredith and Meredith, Mr. and Mrs.

best friend. I thought about the year before, when I

Hildebrandt, and my sister and I were not lucky

the writer’s mind | 54

enough? You could question what would have

these thoughts became more prevalent. Was she

happened if the parents of either Meredith decided

calling to make me come home? I was having so

not to post on that forum. Or what if the parents of

much fun with my friends that I was set on spending

either Kelly Hildebrandt had named their child

the night. Did she want to tell me about the lottery

something else? The two would not have found love

numbers? I promise this was the cause of many

by googling their own names. What if my sister and I

phone calls late at night. My mother also liked to call

were not both born on that sweltering and sweaty

to ask strange questions like, “What is so and so’s

day in June? What if only one egg was fertilized in

phone number.” As if we did not have a phone

my mother’s womb? I would have never met her. It

book. I stopped rolling my eyes at the call and

is easy to explain the reasons why you love someone.

answered it. Leeanne was gone, she came home

I think it is harder to think about life without that

drunk, she was in trouble, and she left. I was picked

person. I wonder if I would have ever been the

up in a matter of minutes to look for her with my

person I am today. My sister and I balance each

mother and my older sister, Rachel.

other. We are like two weights placed on the

We rode down the streets, deserted at twelve

opposite ends of a scale. Sometimes my moral and

a.m., the chill raging through the open windows and

logical thinking balances her adventurous tendencies.

circling the car. I was in a daze, staring blankly out

In other instances I use my humor and outward

into the street. Down one street, down two, she was

thinking to cause her to be less introverted. I think

not there. I called the police.

that if I did not have my sister in my life, this scale would tip, and I might sink.

Leeanne was a breech birth. The doctors

“Nine one one, what is your emergency,” Says the woman on the line.

“My sister is gone, she’s run away.”

struggled to get her enormous head free from what

Her reaction was not one of concern. This kind

could certainly be called “the grips of death”. When

of call was procedural for the woman. She informed

my parents still mention this sometimes, I shudder. I

me to remain calm.

realize how influential the course of this situation has

As I wondered where she could be, I called a few

been on my life, sort of like the importance of the

friends, and they called a few friends but nobody

internet to the lives of Kelly Hildebrandt and Kelly

knew. She was alone, I guessed.

Hildebrandt and the twins from China, Meredith and Meredith.

Finding something valuable makes you realize what the cost is of losing it.

When we finally found my sister she was not the same. It was a few hours later, down the street outside of the restaurant where we both work. She had no shoes on and her eyes were blank and black. I

I think I almost lost my sister once. We were only

looked into them. The depth I was used to was gone.

sixteen, those naïve teenagers who think they have

My sister has layers that start with a core of

the power to do everything.

emotional strength, build with her humor and

The phone rang next to me. I stared at the device

lightness of being, and she is glazed with a sparkling

and almost wanted to ignore the unwelcome sound

beauty that anyone can see. I did not see it that night.

of ringing that was interrupting my night. I looked at

She was still lost.

the screen, and as I saw it was my mother calling,

the writer’s mind | 55

“We all love you,” I said, “Please let’s go home.”

She answered in slurs I did not understand. She was yelling and crying and threatening to take her life. I did not know this person. She, the girl I dug up marbles with in the backyard, over by the old shed, my sidekick, my partner in crime, my blonde-haired, blue-eyed counterpart, my image reflected in a mirror with the power to distort my flaws and shine something more lovely in their place, the girl I shared my life with, my room, my bed, my clothes, my beanie babies, my every day, the rays of sun that accompany the perfect day, the girl by my side on the swing set on the first day of school, who knew me and my secrets, who knew the facets on my personality, good and bad, my sister, was not the same tonight.

We all sat in the car in silence for a while, two of my sisters and me. I remember that all of us were crying together. We felt each other’s pain.

When we brought Leeanne home, the cops took her away to the hospital. I watched her leave from the front window. The ambulance left the frame; it was traveling down the road to take my sister somewhere else. I stayed there looking out the window for a while. I waited for her until she came back.

the writer’s mind | 56

HAWAIIAN ADVENTURE Brittny DeCotiis

My brothers let out a giant sigh, they hated to shop especially Joe, the oldest of the three. My dad reassured them that they would have a something

The music flowed through my headphones as I lay

fun for them to do there and to look out. As he said

under the blazing sun. I’ve never felt sun this hot

this he had a clever grin written all over his face,

before. My body was as hot a frying pan; you could

which meant only one thing, he had something up

fry an egg on my skin. As I sat up I looked around.

his sleeve that he didn’t want my mom knowing

The waves were rolling on to the beach calmly, the

about right away. All six of us piled into the

sand looked like tiny diamonds as it sparkled in the

Chevrolet Suburban we had rented for our vacation

sun; couples and families laid up and down in rows

time and headed into the town.

as they relaxed on towels and beach chairs soaking up the rays of the Hawaiian sun, this was the perfect place to vacation if you needed to get away from a hectic lifestyle and spend time with the people you love because of laid back atmosphere.

Immediately I was snapped out of my train of thought by the football that had just pelted me in the head. I whipped my neck to the right of me and saw all three of my brothers snickering in a huddle as if they did it on purpose to mess with me. It was

The hot, humid breeze whipped me in the face as I

nothing I wasn’t used to being the only girl. I turned

hopped out of the car. The main street of the town

to the left of me where my parents were sitting but

was full of shops, street vendors, art galleries, and

they were too engaged in their own conversation to

restaurants. The sidewalk was full of a mixture of

realize what had just happened. I picked up the

tourist and locals. The younger two boys immediately

football and lobbed it back at them, which made

bolted over to a street a water ice stand, a Hawaiian

them laugh even harder considering it only made it

delicacy, insisting that they needed one before they

half way. I couldn’t help but laugh along with them.

passed out. My mom followed carefully behind them

The sound of our laugher must’ve caught my

to make sure they did get themselves into any

parent’s attention as they approached the four of us

trouble. My dad called after her saying him, Joe and I

with huge smiles. They loved seeing us all get along

would meet them in a store further down the street

and spending time together since it was so difficult

and to call if she couldn’t find us. We made our way

for us to even eat dinner at the same time. The two

down the street popping in and out of multiple

of them started walking towards us to purpose an

stores to look at what they had to offer. We finally

idea for an afternoon adventure.

made our way to the end of the end of the street, as

“Do you guys want to go into town and look around at the shops?” my mom proposed.

“Yes!” I blurted.

Joe and I went to cross the street to check out what was on the other side when my dad pulled us back.

We both were startled as to why he didn’t want us to cross the street. He turned us around and had us face

the writer’s mind | 57

the glass door at the corner of the street. TATTOO

exactly what I wanted. I felt the excitement fill my

was placed in huge black letters, Times New Roman

body as I stared more intently at it. The turtle was all

font across the glass door. My brother and I

black with aqua blue on the inside to represent its

immediately looked at each other; we had been

shell. While looking at the designs she explained the

talking about getting tattoos all vacation but my

background of the Polynesian tattoo’s that we would

mom kept shutting us down. My dad walked towards

be getting.

the door and waved his hand at as, as to follow him.

We quickly followed him through the door.

She started with telling us about how every symbol means something different. There were symbols that meant family, long life, happiness; anything that you

I cautiously climbed the everlasting stairs covered

could think of had its own underlying meaning. She

in faded dark blue carpeting. I carefully followed

then went into talking about how the Hawaiians used

behind my dad and brother as we made our way into

tattoos to tell a story or a life lesson, show respect to

the tattoo parlor. Black leather couches were

their chief and commemorate life events. Hawaiians

carefully placed around the small space we had

also used these tattoos to express love, grief and

stepped into. The stark white walls were covered in

sorrow with the passing of a loved one. While she

pictures from wall to wall. The art on the walls of

was telling us this it reminded me of present day. I

what the artists had done amazed me. I couldn’t help

thought about all the people who I knew that had

but stare at every design, the detail that was put into

tattoos and the meanings behind them. They had

each one of these designs was unlike anything I had

them for loved ones who had passed away; they had

ever seen before. Each design popped out of the

them for remembrance just like the ancient

frame smacking me in the face. As I snapped out of

Hawaiians. The turtle that I was getting meant

the daze I was in, I saw my dad talking to the women

longevity and family. The design was beautiful, and

at the front desk confirming our appointment. The

even more beautiful because of the meaning behind

women didn’t look too old, maybe around her early

it. I would have a piece of important and meaningful

30’s. She was short, with long brown hair, and of

culture on my body for the rest of my life.

course her body was covered in different designs and color.

The three of us took a seat on the black leather couches to give the artist time to set up. While

“Britt?” my dad called to me.

waiting, I anxiously thought about how I would have

“Yeah?” my voice all shaky from nerves.

this symbol on me for the rest of my life. But

He waved me over to the front desk. The women

knowing that would have something meaning

had the designs of our tattoos laid out for us to look

instantly put me at ease. This turtle meant family and

at. Placed on the glass counter were three tattoo

long life. Also, knowing that I was getting a tattoo

designs drawn out. There were two identical softball

with my dad and my brother it put even more of a

sized all black Polynesian suns that contained smaller

meaning into it. Having this tattoo would allow me

more intent design which were for my dad and

to have a constant reminder of Hawaii, and what a

brother. Then, I saw mine. I looked down at it the

bonding experience it was for my family and me.

small Polynesian turtle that was presented in front of

Time felt as if it was standing still as we sat and

me. It was perfect, the size no bigger than a quarter,

waited. I was going first because mine was the

the writer’s mind | 58

smallest. It was going to take the least amount of

if she could read my mind and knew that seeing

time out of the three tattoos. My palms became

everything out in the open would put an ease to my

clammy here I would be the first victim. I didn’t

nerves.

know what to expect. I’ve hated needles since I was a little. I didn’t know how I was going to react. I felt

She could tell I was nervous, it was written all over my face.

my hands starting to shake. I could hear my heart

“This isn’t going to take long, I’m just going to

begin to start pounding out of my chest. The

need you to pull down your shorts and bathing suit

reactions I’ve heard varied from each person I asked.

low enough where I can get a clear view of where

My cousin had told me he was in immense amounts

you want it on your back.”

of pain the entire five hours that he laid on the table while getting a cross with wording that took up his whole right side. My best friend however, said she barely felt it when she got a small sun design put on

“Okay” I said. Hearing her voice put me more at ease.

“Now, you’re not wearing anything that you’re worried about being stained by the ink right?”

her back. From the different stories it seemed like it

“No.” I replied

depended on the size and the amount of detail. I was

“First, I’m going to stencil it onto where you want

just going to squeeze my eyes shut and hope for the

and you can tell me if you want it higher or lower or

best.

whatever you want me to fix about it. I’m doing this

“Brittny, come follow me,” said the lady a she walked out of her workstation.

Slowly standing, I walked towards her. My feet felt as if they were being held down with cement as I

to make sure it’s perfect. I can take it off and replace it as many time as you want.”

“I’m going to set up this chair and you’re going to sit on it so that your back is facing me.”

approached the back room where I was going to be

As she placed it on my body, I could tell from my

worked on. I looked around at my surroundings to

tan line that it would be peaking out of my bathing

try and keep my mind off of it. I saw the different

suit the tiniest bit. I wasn’t sure if I wanted that, so I

rooms of people being marked up, they didn’t look

called for back-up. I called my dad and brother in so

like they were in much pain. Watching the others

I could get their approval. They told me that they

getting their bodies covered in ink, made me less

liked where it was as well. With that being said, I

anxious about the amount of pain that I was going to

gave the lady the go ahead. I sat in the chair, my back

be in. Their faces were emotionless as the needle ran

facing her just as she told me. I could hear my heart

up and down their bodies. There were no screams or

pounding out of my chest. I felt as if she could hear

tears like I had envisioned. Before I knew it we were

its intense beat the way she was staring at me. Her

approaching the work area that she had so kindly

hands were cold as she placed the stencil of my

prepared with her tools. Everything was laid out so

tattoo on my back. My back quickly stiffened and

neatly in a row; her needle, rubber gloves, paper

became tense. I felt her lift her hands away as she

towels, saran wrap coated with a mound of Vaseline

told me look in the mirror at what she carefully

on top of it, the small thimble sized containers each

placed on my body. I slowly stood up, holding my

filled with the two different colored ink were all

shirt so it wouldn’t smudge the design. I twisted my

placed on the counter for me to see in plain sight as

body and looked in the mirror. I squinted to examine

the writer’s mind | 59

the tiny turtle that was places on the left side of my

pulled at the back of my shorts. There it was. The

lower back. My chest went in and out as I thought if

tiny turtle. It was perfect.

this is where I wanted it for the rest of my life. I let out a sigh. I needed another opinion. I called my dad and brother in from the other room. I heard the heaviness of their footsteps as they made it back into the artist’s work station. My breathing got heavier and heavier. As my dad and brother examined the placing just as intently as I did, they agreed that the placement was just right. I gave the artist the go ahead. I heard the clinking of her getting the tools and ink out. Along with the clinking came the ripping of paper towels she was going to use to wipe up the excess ink. Once again my chest got heavy. It felt difficult to breathe. My lungs were filling with the hot, sticky, humid air coming in from the windows. I hugged tight to the chair as I straddled it and hoped for the best. I heard the needle start up, the buzzing noise filled the room. My feet began to anxiously move up and down. Her cold hands once again made my body stiffened and the anxious bobbing of my feet come to a stop. I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes tight. Instantly, I felt the buzzing need being pressed to my back. This was it.

I felt the needle slowing down; the buzzing noise began to fade out. Suddenly, I felt nothing, no pressure, no pinching. I turned to see why she had stopped. As I my head swung around I saw her in the cabinet getting out gauze.

“All finished.” she announced.

“Already?” I questioned.

She shook her head in approval. I shot out of the chair my body had been pressed up against for the past fifteen minutes. My legs were stuck from the humidity. Regardless, that didn’t slow me down from seeing the finished product. I took a deep breath and held it. I twisted my body in the mirror. I carefully

the writer’s mind | 60

During the entire car ride home, I kept glancing

ON LOBSTERS Kelly Sullivan

into the bag by my feet. All four lobsters were still there, only convulsing a little but not really moving

One night when I was thirteen years old, my father

enough for me to recognize them as real animals.

decided that we would have lobster for a nice family

They were something stuck between a living thing

dinner. We had dinner together every night, but

and an inanimate object, I couldn’t quite wrap my

lobster was special. It was too expensive to have

head around it. I pushed the question out of my

often, so this was a treat. A lot of families eat

mind and looked out the window; it was too much to

separately at different times, but not us. We took

think about. We got home and brought the bag

about an hour each night to talk about each other’s

upstairs to the kitchen. I reached into the bag and

days, discuss family issues, and just enjoy each

delicately wrapped my fingers around one of their

other’s company. It was a small thing that brought us

torsos and pulled “him” out. I assumed it was a he,

together

way.

although I suppose I wouldn’t really have known. I

All five of us drive to ShopRite together and

placed him on the counter and took a good, eye-level

walked to the seafood section. We gazed into the

look at him. His claws were bound with rubber

freezer tub full of live lobsters sitting on ice. All of

bands to prevent him from attacking, desisting any

them lay there with rubber bands around their claws,

means of self-defense. He was sluggishly swaying

all packed close together, some even on top of each

back and forth on the counter, without any

other. A few of them were moving, clearly disturbing

detectable intentions of moving with haste. Had he

their neighbors, but most of the others sat still, only

accepted defeat so soon, or was he just disoriented

sporadically twitching their antennae. We were

by a new setting? My dog, Molly, hopped up and put

looking for plump ones, ones that would be

her two front paws on the counter to get a better

succulent and enjoyable.

look at the lobster. She sniffed him, nudged him with

in

a

special,

simple

hers nout, and even tried pawing at him. I held her back so she wouldn’t hurt him, and she understood to be gentler. I watched her watch him, and realized just how different they were.

Molly was furry, warm, and so eager for attention.

She could express emotions like curiosity, or affection. Dogs are called man’s best friend for a reason. Even the fact that she had a name was telling We agreed on four in the tub, and my father pulled them out and placed them in a bag. My sister and I played games to see who was brave and could touch the lobsters. She squealed each time, shuddering at their odd appearances and movements. I, however, was intrigued by them. I had never bought my food alive before, and here was a chance for me to play with

a

live

animal

in

a

food

of her status in the house. She was a part of the family, although not human. We cherished her. This lobster, on the other hand, possessed no qualities that a human would find endearing. There was no fur, no wet nose that brought a smile to your face when it sniffed you, no visible signs of emotion or ways of showing affection whatsoever. He was cold

store. the writer’s mind | 61

to the touch, hard, and had largely noticeable,

scream. While the sound is only air escaping their

menacing claws. Slowly, but surely, he was always

shells, the illusion of a scream is haunting enough to

trying to escape me. His face could not express any

stay in your mind. Again, I forced the thoughts out

emotion, but I’m sure if it could, he would have

of my mind.

looked terrified that day. Or maybe dejected, or

We sat down around the dinner table, all five of us.

wistful. He did not have a name. And at the time, I

My mother set a dish down on the table right in

hadn’t

thought

him

front of me. Nothing about the lifeless crustaceans

one. In the back of my mind, I knew he wouldn’t be

laid out on the plate looked natural, or even like they

around after that night’s dinner. I was not allowing

had looked before being boiled. Their claws were no

my mind to come to this realization, however. Not

longer bound with rubber bands; my mother must

yet. Those thoughts are “too real.” Having to think

have removed them. There really wasn’t a need for

about animals being killed for food is usually too

them anymore, dead lobsters cannot attack. They lay

graphic for people. They would rather forget just

motionless, instead of meandering about or twitching

how

dinners.

in the bag like they had before their death. Finally,

I placed Molly back on the ground before my

they were bright red. Lobsters are never actually red

mother could catch her, and continued to play with

in the wild. Their shells are usually a murky bluish

this lobster. I maneuvered him in a dancing motion

green color. Only when a lobster is boiled will its

just to get a laugh from my small brother. I

shell turn the orange-red color we are so accustomed

succeeded. I then took all the condiments out of the

to seeing on our plates. There is a pigment within the

fridge and proceeded to create a maze out of them to

shell called astaxanthin that provides the red

challenge

blundered

coloring, also found in carrots or salmon. Although

through, picking up speed as he went. I hadn’t

there are several other pigments within a lobster

expected him to be able to move so fast; it was

shell, astaxanthin is the only one that can withstand

actually unsettling to me. Was I intimidated by the

being boiled. This glaring, anomalous red burned

fact that this lobster wasn’t completely defenseless? I

into my eyes as a reminder of the cruel and aberrant

had assumed that this little crustacean was slow,

reason as to why they were on land, and on our

bound, and helpless. I took comfort in that. How

kitchen table nonetheless. Throughout the whole

sick. Now, as he scurried across my kitchen counter

day, I had put these lobsters through mazes and

with impressive speed, I was almost frightened. I

puppeteered them for my own amusement, not once

picked him up and put him back in the bag where I

thinking about how out of place they were, or

didn’t have to face him. It was almost time anyway.

considering what they might have felt. The sound of

The boiling pot let out a hissing noise, and my

their bodies hitting the water in the pot and the slight

mother hurried over to the bag of lobsters and

whistle they let off came rushing back to my memory

brought them over to the stove. The pot was a

as a looked at them, and suddenly a surge of guilt

ravenous predator, bubbling up and summoning its

flooded my conscience. I felt hard-hearted. The

prey inside. My mother took out each lobster one by

harsh truth that we’ve all become inured to ignore

one and gently placed them inside. They say that

was staring me in the face, and in that instant, I made

when a lobster hits the boiling water, it lets out a

a decision.

it’s

done

the

to

and

lobster’s

eat

skills.

give

their

He

the writer’s mind | 62

Without really mulling over the pros and cons in my head, I divulged to my parents that I had decided

ears. I knew that I had made the right decision for myself.

to become a vegetarian. It was something that, as a foolish and impulsive thirteen year old, seemed like it would be easy. Not to mention, it would ease my guilt-ridden conscience.

The first thing my mother said was “I don’t think you’re ready for a commitment like that.”

That was a mistake. Never challenge a teenage girl’s readiness, in any aspect. She will prove you wrong with a vengeance; it will be all the motivation she needs.

She went on to persuade me to change my mind.

She brought up the extra cost of vegetarian food, the detriments to my health, how she thought I wouldn’t be able to stick to it. I denied it all, simulating a confidence that eventually convinced them that I was ready. I had my own doubts, but as a stubborn young teenage girl, I refused to really take them into consideration. I was concerned about losing the togetherness of family dinners. I was concerned about not being able to eat anything but a salad at restaurants. I was worried about giving up buffalo wings. But, my compassion for animals was a concern that had been gnawing at my subconscious for far too long, and I convinced myself that this decision would make me happier. It made me feel like an adult, making such a big change in my life.

For a thirteen year old, the glamour of making such a big decision was just as appealing as the fact that I would be saving animals. I looked down at Molly.

She was sitting at the foot of my chair, with her head cocked to the side, staring up at me. She was waiting for scraps. Even though she was so different from the lobster I had been playing with, they were both alive. I reached down and rubbed her behind her

the writer’s mind | 63

A LETTER : APRIL 12, 1928

see where life takes us. Why do you think I finally

Jaclyn DiGabriele

was given a chance now? Maybe my prayers have been answered. In my prayers, I ask for light, a

Dear Marie,

chance to start over, or a sign. This morning, I felt Samuel with me. He told me to step into my dress

Lately I have been thinking about getting a job. I

shoes and walk outside into the light.

always wanted to work in the telephone exchange

My dear friend, you have been nothing but

business as an operator. Since you know my dear

patient with me through my difficult times. Thank

Samuel past three years ago, I woke up yesterday

you for everything you had done the past few years. I

morning, made your favorite passion tea, sat on the

hope to hear from you soon.

porch chair, thinking I should start over again.

When did winter turn to spring? I guess when I

Your dearest friend,

finally opened my eyes to see flowers blooming and birds chirping while the sun arose over my house. I

Josephine Minzo

thought to myself, this is a new beginning. It was a beginning of opportunities, relationships, and a chance for another life.

So, this morning I decided to rummage through Samuel’s desk to find the application for the operator position. I filled out the application, put on my work attire, and took a taxi downtown with my briefcase to the interview.

As I sat in the waiting room for my name to be called but the assistant, I couldn’t help but think of the time we went to New York. By the way, how is New York? I bet New York is magnificent, especially during the holiday season. I always imagined what New York would be like during the Christmas season. Tell your husband Jonathon, “Best wishes on his accountant job.” I know you had to leave Chicago for Jonathon, but I miss you so much. How is the weather there now? Here, it has been raining all day, but the sun never stops shining.

I always seem to write off topic. That is because I have so much to tell you. When I finished the job interview, the manager had told me I had got the job.

I assumed I would receive a letter in a few weeks, but the manager told me right off the bat. It is excited to

the writer’s mind | 64

MAYBE ALL PROMISES AREN'T MEANT

out. It seemed like we were waiting a lifetime but in

TO BE BROKEN...

reality,

Heather Meyers

it

was

only

about

twenty

minutes.

“Hi,” I said as he walked up to me and gave me a hug.

Promises, Love... more like empty words, or things that are said and never meant, or at least that's what I used to think about them...

“I just can't do it anymore Karl,” I screamed, “All you ever do is treat me bad and hurt me!” I took the ring and I put in his hand.

“You broke your own heart.” He was cold and emotionless when he said it, that's how I knew that our engagement and everything that was 'us' was over. And it was over.

I didn't think I was ever going to fall in love again,

“Hey!” It wasn't much of a conversation but we got our shoes and a lane and started having a good time, and talking a little bit more. That's when Brittany pulled me aside.

“He said he likes you. I asked him if he likes you, or if he, “likes” you. and he said he “likes” you! do you like him!?”

“Yeah,” I replied, “I mean... I don't really know him that well, but so far, yeah. I think he's pretty great.”

or even believe in it for that matter, so for those two

She ran back over and told him, and this kind of

years I was alone, I didn't really waste much time on

thing went on back and forth like we were in a high

anyone but myself. I didn't think I even wanted to

school cafeteria all night, but it was cute. Actually, it

date anyone else... I mean, until Brandon came along.

was a good thing because it got us to talk more, and

It was December 30th, 2011. My best friend Elwood sent me a text message while I was working

to flirt a little bit.

“I really like you,” he said as he put his arm

telling me to come meet him and two friends at the

around me before his turn.

bar when I got done my shift. I wasn't going to go,

“I like you too,” I said.

but he really wanted me there so I showed up. I

“I really look forward to getting to know you, I

already knew who Brandon was because he worked

think you're really great. Do you think maybe we

with me, and his brother Stefan was there, who was

could be... 'talking'?” he asked.

already one of my good friends. I sat next to Brandon and talked to him all night and by the time I

I smiled and said, “Yeah, I'd like that. I want to get to know you better too.”

was leaving it was already in my head that I wanted

Before I knew it was almost two in the morning.

to get to know him more, so I had him add me on

We were all tired, and worn out and it was time to

Facebook until I got lucky and he messaged me with

pack up and go home. He walked me out to my car,

his number. It's a good thing he did because if he

and gave me a hug. I made him promise to text me

didn't, I was going to give him mine. The next thing I

when he got home and just like that, the night was

knew we had plans to go bowling with some of my

over... or so I thought.

friends.

Unfortunately, that's when all hell broke loose.

My friends and I arrived at the bowling alley, but

Turns out, my mom was not in the slightest bit okay

he wasn't there yet. I was nervous and unsure of how

with the fact that he was only half White. I could

the night would go, but I was also excited to find

have cared less, and so could my father but my

the writer’s mind | 65

mom... well for the next two weeks every time I walked passed her I was being verbally attacked and screamed at. It go to the point where I couldn't take it anymore and I left. I stayed in my friend's apartment while he was away on vacation for two days.

"Okay, well, how are we supposed to know when we're there," I asked.

"Don't worry Heather, you'll know it when you see it. Trust me," Stefan said.

The rest of the way seemed to take forever, but then again, we did have to talk a good mile just to

“Where are you? We haven't seen or heard from

find this spot. It was past the lighthouse and onto the

you in two days,” My dad asked me in a text message

beach, and then we kept walking until we found

while I was lying on my friend's couch.

where the ocean started. It took us even longer to get

“Who cares. Mom made it clear she didn't want me around.” I replied.

there because we made a few stops along the way.

"Come up here and check this out," Stefan yelled

“You need to knock it off and get your ass home.

as he climbed up a set of large rocks, "It's just the

This boy isn't worth losing your family over so stop

bay, but you can see all the stars and it's so beautiful

talking to him and come back here now.”

up here!"

I didn't respond to that. I just laid there on the couch and cried. Then Brandon text me, “Good morning beautiful!” and I cried even harder. I knew I had to find a way to get her on board with this, so we put our heads together and came up with a plan, told my mom the story about how he's actually Cuban and she caved. Finally, I could relax and get to know him and his daughter.

"I'm far too clumsy for that," I noted "Me too," added Brandon as Ashley walked past us and climbed up next to Stefan.

"Stop it, you babies! get your butts up here!"

Stefan yelled.

"OKAY!" I yelled back as I made my way up the rocks with Brandon.

Stefan was right, it was beautiful, but it wasn't the

We went on our first date on January 14, 2012. We

spot we were looking for so we climbed back down

went to the movies to see “Beauty and the Beast,” in

and continued walking. We only walked about five

3D, then we went to the bar to meet up with a

more minutes until we got there.

couple friends. He asked me to be his girlfriend while we were there and I said yes. It was great.

"Stop," Stefan said with a serious tone, "We're here. This is the spot."

A week later, Brandon and I were hanging out

In that moment all four of us grew quiet. We could

with Stefan and his girlfriend Ashley and decided to

hear the sound of the ocean in the distance as we

take a beach trip in the middle of the night. It was

looked out to it. It was so calm and peaceful; It was

cold, as to be expected in the middle of January, but

the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

it was calm and peaceful. The four of us walked out to the beach, only we were so far out, that the ocean water didn't even start yet.

"Where are we going?" Brandon asked "You'll see! I'm telling you, it's the best spot ever, and once we get there you'll be so amazing you'll never want to leave," Stefan replied.

the writer’s mind | 66

Brandon and I walked just far enough away from

relationship with his daughter Trinity, who I love to

Stefan and Ashley for us to soak up the beauty on

death, just I like I love him because he is wonderful

our own for a moment. As we walked closer to the

in every way. I have never been this happy or this in

ocean, Brandon held me close and kissed me.

love in my entire life and the best part is, I've finally

"I can't get over how amazing it is here," Brandon said.

come to terms with the fact that he's all mine and always be, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

"I know, neither can I," I replied, "It's so beautiful and I'm so happy I get to be here with you."

That's when I pulled out my phone and started playing our song softly enough so only the two of us could hear it. We laughed and danced and sang it to each other until the entire song was through. If ever there was a moment of pure perfection, it was that.

It wasn't soon after this that he said those three little words I didn't think I'd ever believe in. I was taking him to work, it was February 17th, 2012, we had recently discussed how we both had almost slipped up a couple of times and almost said it, but didn't, so there we were parked outside of the CVS where he works, he was hugging me goodbye and he looked into my eyes and said, “I love you.”

I said, “I love you too,” and smiled and kissed him. “ I just couldn't wait any more, I had to say it!”

“I know... me too,” I said as I smiled and kissed him again as he got out of the car and headed in for his shift.

You know, for the first month we were together, I was terrified. All I could think about was if and when he was going to change his mind like Karl did; when he would decide I wasn't good enough and leave. I didn't want to mess anything up but seemed as though the harder I fell for him, the more scared I got, because I didn't want to lose him because the thing about Brandon is, he's smart, funny, fun to be around, easy to talk too, sweet, caring, so very handsome, my family loves him, I have an amazing

the writer’s mind | 67

the writer’s mind | 68

CONTRIBUTORS Taylor Brown, “My Daddy, My Hero” Jane Blaus, “Internal Combustion” Alyssa Stetson, “Piano” Alexandar Kuhn, “Nor’easter” Samuel Fine, “Pedal, Dammit!”

Carly Corrado, “The Interior of a Computer” Alexis Bermudez, “Graduation” Kevin Schultz, “Unanswered Questions” Brittinee Garcia, “My Voice, Buried” Jessica Lochel, “Baby Girl” Carly Rothenberg, “My Love of the Eyes” Kellie Larson, “Bonkie, My Rag” Kacey Terzini, “The Five” Jamie Mahoney, “Journey to Motherhood” Kayla Ewing, “The Hike” Joeanna Landis, “When Found” Heather Meyers, “Maybe Not All Promises Are Meant to Be Broken” Jaclyn DiGabriele, “A Letter” Kelly Sullivan, “On Lobsters” Brittny DeCotiis, “Hawaiian Adventure”

the writer’s mind | 69