Angels Laugh Too

There I am, fifteen years old, sitting on the last Christmas present my grandma ever received. The new couch almost seems out of place in the abundance of memories the old house contains. I almost feel guilty because the couch is so comfortable. The table sits all alone in the kitchen, almost begging us to prepare a dish for it to hold. The stove is cold, and the counters are cleared, almost as if she were never here. But, no matter the changes, this is, and always will be, my grandma’s house. The pictures on the walls, the bags of yarn and crocheting needles, the decks of cards, and the empty recliner remind me of her. I just hate how it all ended...

My hands are so small that the needle looks like a bat in my hands. Crocheting isn’t my strong point, but my sister is doing it, so I have to learn. My grandma is always crocheting, and it looks interesting. Today is the day that I learn the skill so when I’m old, I can sit in my rocking chair and sew day in and day out like grandmas do. My grandma slowly explains to me how to hook the needle into the yarn, and the rest of the process. Anna claims she’s making hers all one color. So, mine is going to be rainbow colors. I have to be better than my sister. Eight years old and curious, I work at it. Night and day, day and night, I work until I have this mastered. I want to make a scarf for my mom. My sister and I compete as we always do, yet, no matter how competitive we are, my grandma still loves us the way we are. She laughs her quiet laugh and just continues on with her teaching. 

I’m finally old enough to play poker with my family. It’s Thanksgiving and poker is our tradition. My dad gives me a lid full of change for me to play with. But, when I run out of money, I’m done. 

“You’ve gotta lose a whole lot before you can win anything,” my uncle Junior says to me. 

Laughs fill the room. 

“Well, I think I’ve witnessed my dad lose enough times throughout the years that I should be able to do pretty well,” I respond.

My uncle laughs a laugh that I’d only heard once or twice. It was full of happiness and love. Everyone around the table laughs at my witty remark, and I finally feel like I’m somebody.  My grandma laughs too. She laughs her quiet laugh, and it’s a laugh that I always hear, no matter the occasion. She told my uncles to go easy on me, but I said not to, because I was thirteen. I could take on my uncles easily. But that’s the kind of person my grandma is. She’s always looking out for me. Always.

I walk into the house, and immediately notice something is off. There isn’t food cooking. There’s nobody in the kitchen. The recliner is empty. The house seems offset.

“Where’s mom?” my dad immediately asks. 

“She’s in the hospital. She had an episode yesterday, but she should be home tonight,” my aunt replies almost as if she were a robot.

Nobody had called my dad. Nobody had told us anything about her being sick. But, we let it slide. Everything began to change... I only wish I’d realized it sooner.

The phone rings. It is the phone call I don’t want to come through. The light from the screen seems to rip through the darkness of the room and beg for my attention. The movie was loud, but it doesn’t matter to me. This phone call is happening now, and there isn’t a way to avoid it. My mom speaks with unevenness in her voice. She knows it’ll crush me. The words come through.

“Ab, she’s gone.”

The chairs catch me as I begin my descent towards the floor. They’re my airbag in this horrible car wreck that is going to change my life forever. All I can hear is the voices of my friends realizing something is not right. Some realize what happened. Some don’t. My rock was gone. I’ll never hear that soft laugh again. I’ll never have that person to always watch out for me. I’ll never be able to say goodbye. I’ll never see her again. Now, all I can worry about is my dad. How is he taking it? What’s he thinking? Should I call him or just leave him to his time with all his siblings? What happens now? 

So, here I am. Fifteen years old and sitting on the last Christmas present my grandma ever received. The new couch almost seems out of place in the abundance of memories the old house contains. I almost feel guilty because the couch is so comfortable. I hear my dad call out to me, telling me to come set the table. 

“Nothing has changed, Abbi. We’ll all be okay.”

And for once in my life, I believed that. We will be okay because everything is okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end. I stand up and begin to walk into the  kitchen… and I hear that quiet laugh. 

Who Needs Books Anyways?

Reading and I have never really gotten along. We have more of a love-hate relationship. I read about as much as I exercise, which is only when I’m really determined. When I was younger, reading was my favorite thing to do. I loved every aspect of it. But, throughout the years, it hasn’t grown on me. In reality, it is slowly fading out of my life.

When I was little, my dad worked late hours as a police officer. So, I didn’t see him very often. But, when I did see him, we read together. We read stories like The Flintstones and Scooby Doo. We read in the mornings, during the day, and at night. We didn’t really get to choose whenever we read. It was whenever we had the opportunity to spend time with each other. I love my dad, and he is the reason that my intricate affiliation with reading began.

As I got older, reading became more necessary for school. Around the 2^nd grade, reading was for points. Each 9 weeks, we had a goal we had to reach. Also, our points went towards rewards. There was a competition for who could get the most points. I’m a very, VERY competitive person. I love to win. Yes, that may sound really selfish, but it was how I was raised. At the end of every 9 weeks, there was an awards ceremony. No matter rain or shine, my dad was always there with me. Year after year, I was in the Top 5 for the most points. And for different point values, we got beads to put around our neck. I always had so many beads that I made my dad wear some of them. But, after we stopped receiving rewards, I slowly quit reading as much. Before long, reading became forced upon us. I’m the type of person who will do something, as long as it isn’t forced upon me. More and more each year, we were forced to read during any free time we had. Reading and I hit that bumpy road in about 7^th grade, and ever since we have been struggling to get back to solid ground.

Now, being in high school, I know reading is a necessity for life. I know that I will need it in every aspect of my career, no matter what the career may be. And when I think of reading now, I think of my mother. My mother reviews books for a website. Authors personally email her and send her free copies of books, just for her to review them. She loves reading, and when I come home from school and want to tell her all about my day, she makes me go away. Lately, she has been too busy with her books to talk me. Most parents bug their children, asking what happened in their day, and most of their children shrug it off and leave. But, my family is very different. She’s the child, and I’m the parent in our household when it comes to wanting to talk to the other. She has taken reading to a level that I can’t even comprehend. She works all day, and comes home to do more work. She complains all the time about how tired she is, and complains about her “long day.” Yet, when I have a bad day, she can’t listen to me. She reads fervently as if her life depended upon it.

Now, whenever I do read, I like to read about things such as murder, crime, suspense, etc. I love stories that will keep me flipping pages until I literally cannot keep my eyes open any longer. I love having the images in my head of someone being chased for their lives. I love feeling scared of what the next page will hold. Suspense is my best friend. I don’t enjoy all the romance novels as most girls seem to these days. I love the twists and turns and the unexpected outcomes that a book will withhold from the world. But acquiring a book that lives up to my standards is a long and perplexing journey that I don’t enjoy taking.

So, reading and I don’t really like each other most of the time. I don’t want to end up ignoring everyone who needs me just because I’m reading. It really doesn’t fit into my life as well as it should. I also don’t read because I can’t find the time. So, in my head of course, I believe we dont need books anyways. Reading and I are like a lamp and a desert, unrelated and irrelevant to the others existence.

I Am..

I am a dreamer.. plain and simple.
I wonder if anyone cares at all.
I hear “it’ll be okay” constantly.. even though it doesn’t help me.
I see myself in the spotlight.
I want my own fairytale.
I am a dreamer.. plain and simple.

I pretend my life is normal.
I feel more pain from words than actions.
I touch the snooze button more and more each day.
I worry about my father.
I cry when I feel as if I’m not good enough.
I am a dreamer.. plain and simple.

I understand I’m still young.
I say, together.. anything is possible.
I dream of being successful one day.
I try to stay positive.
I hope all my dreams come true.
I’m a dreamer.. plain and simple.

How To Save A Life

When someone smiles at you, what's your initial reaction? Does it make you happy? Well, with me, just a smile can turn walking on glass into walking on air.  In, "A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings", we see a man who has been through a lot. When we're upset, we need someone to listen, or even just acknowledge our existence. We want that from others, so why wouldn't we do it for someone else? The age old saying, "treat others how you want to be treated" is a complete understatement in this situation. How would you feel if you found out that one smile to a complete stranger could save their life?

In the story, an angel lands on earth and he’s all beaten and tattered. Meanwhile, Pelayo and Elisenda figure out a way to benefit from this angel. The neighbor tells them to club him to death. Here, the couple has some sort of sympathy because they cannot do that to the poor man. Instead, they lock him up in a chicken coop and people treat him as if he is an animal at the zoo. Think of this as a stray dog that shows up in your yard. Your initial reaction is to shoo it away. But how many of you would actually take it in, feed, and care for it? If you ask me, there aren’t many of you who would. Wouldn’t you want someone to feed and care for you? Small acts of kindness like that can produce miracles.

You may say, "There’s no way a smile can save a life." well, now it’s time for me to prove you wrong. Mr. John Hevin Kines, a San Francisco man who grew up with depression disorders, decided one morning he was going to kill himself. He walked onto the golden gate bridge preparing to jump. He wrote in his suicide letter that if someone smiles at him before he jumps, then he wouldn't go through with it. He would not kill himself. Well, he stood on this bridge for almost 45 minutes, balling his eyes out, waiting to see if anyone would smile at him, or ask him what was wrong. A German woman approached him, and asked if he'd take her picture. He took it, and told her to have a great day. After that, he decided that nobody cares about him, and he hurled himself over the side of the bridge. Somehow, he survived. He says that the reason he survived was because of God's grace. But think about this. One act of kindness could've prevented all that from happening. One person, one conversation, one smile. In the story, don't you think acts of kindness could've helped this angel, instead of all the beatings and hard times? Wouldn’t a pat on the back be better than a hit with a branding iron? Wouldn’t you want someone’s help if you were sad and lonely?

If you helped someone, you'd more than likely feel pretty good about yourself. I cannot stress enough how treating others how you want to be treated can help a situation. John Kines was a very lucky man to have survived that jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. Just like the angel in the story that was very lucky to have gained his strength back and be able to fly away. They each received no help from anyone other than God himself. Both of these instances could've been simply avoided if someone would've decided to help rather than to hurt. Even the little things can help us learn how to save a life.