“She what?” I said. I needed to hear it again. It just couldn’t be true.

“Uuuuh… I think Quiyamah is the one who stole your mom’s ring…” Anna repeated.

“Where would you get that idea?” I said in disbelief.

“Well she’s told me about … how she’s stolen things from your house before.”

“What?!” I was shocked. There was no way she could’ve done this. She’s pulled a lot of shit on me but never this foolish.

“Yeah like some of your jewelry and makeup.” She said.

I had lost some jewelry before and just thought I had misplaced it. I can be pretty forgetful sometimes so it was pretty easy to convince myself that. I also never thought my best friend, since kindergarden would do something like this to me.

“Well- why didn’t you tell me in the first place!?” I asked. I was furious with her for not telling me, but part of me still questioned her story altogether, so I kept interrogating her for the rest of lunch.

“I’m sorry! I really am. I should’ve told you… “ Anna looked upset and disappointed in herself, but I didn’t know if this was genuine or not. At this point I didn’t know what to believe.

“ Makeup is one thing, but your mom’s ring? I can’t keep lying about this.” She said. I couldn’t believe she lied to me. I thought I would have at least one friend that stood by my side but I guess I was wrong.

“Why would she do this, or even think she could get away with this?” I asked in a fiery voice.

“ Well... she said it was easy because you were too naive and trusting to notice anything.” Anna said.

Well that stung. It was like someone punching me in the heart. I could feel the tears in my eyes and I tried to hold them back. I took a deep breath.

“I’m really sorry. I should’ve told you.” Anna kept repeating. We sat in silence for a few minutes. We were sitting alone at one of the lunch tables at the time, but I checked to see if any of the other 8th graders heard us. I looked over at Quiyamah’s table to see if she noticed us. Fortunately, she seemed distracted enough by her friend Marie to notice us talking.

“Well what should I do now?” I said feeling bitterly defeated.

“I think…” She paused. “Maybe you should tell your mom.”

I thought about it for a few minutes. Part of me agreed with going and telling my mom, but I was also scared to. What was I even going to say? That one of my best friends since kindergarten had been stealing from my house, and another friend knew and didn’t tell me  about it? I didn’t know if I could bring myself to do it, but at this point I had no other choice.

“After school.” I stated. “We will go to my mom’s office after school and tell her.”

Getting through the rest of that school day was awful. I thought I was going to cry, but honestly I was still in shock. I counted down every minute until 3:00 o’clock knowing I would finally be out of school only be trapped in my mom’s office where I would have tell the truth.

Once our teacher dismissed us from school, I went over to Anna making sure not to bump into Quiyamah or any of my other so called “friends”. We quickly left the school, but instead of going to my house we walked to my mom’s office which was in Penn campus.

While we were heading over I was texting my mom informing her that Anna and I  would be over to tell her about the stolen ring. I told her that we thought it was Quiyamah and that we would tell her more when we got over. While that was going on Anna was giving me more details on what she knew about Quiyamah’s past thefts. My mood became more upbeat when Anna and I planned out what we were going to say to my mom. I felt like we had a whole secret plan, and that maybe everything was going to turn out okay. At this point I was in too much disbelief to be upset so I started to just laugh the situation we were in.

The closer we got to my mom’s office the more anxious I felt, so by the time we got to her door I wanted to run back home. Once I finally forced myself to knock on the door we heard a voice “come in” in a somewhat serious, but affectionate tone. Anna and I let ourselves in to find my mother on her computer focused on her writing, papers covering her desk.

We stood their for a few second as she kept typing on her computer. She looked up.

“So...What happened?”

We told her everything . I did most of the talking, but Anna would speak up every once in while. I could tell she was frightened by my mother at this point who sat their with a very grim look on her face.

Once we stopped my mom took a deep breath and said “I have a class I have to teach in a few minutes. You join me downstairs, and then we will figure this out afterwards. Is that okay?” We nodded.

For the next few hours we sat in the middle of my mom’s classroom as they discussed if rich people should be obligated to give to others in need. It kept me distracted, but not enough to get rid of the anxiety I was feeling at the moment. After the class she took us back upstairs to get her things.

“Were going to your mom’s house now, “ she said to Anna sternly. “I think she needs to know what’s going on too.”

Anna’s mom was known for being an incredibly strict and tough mother so when wasn’t surprised that she was yelling loud enough at Anna for the whole street to hear. Although I have to admit I was still quite scared myself. My mom noticed how scared and upset I looked so she put her arm around me.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I lied. She knew it too.

We went back to our house leaving a sad looking Anna with her mom. My mom called my dad and told him about it, then Quiyamah’s mom.

“I just called your father, and we decided we are going to invite Anna, Quiyamah, and her mother over to figure out what’s going on. We’re going to try to get Quiyamah to confess too, okay?” She said. She looked me dead in the eyes. “You realize how angry I am about this right?”

“Yes.” I said.

“Okay, I love you very much .” She said.

“I love you too, mom.” I said.

That night proceeded to be one of the worst nights of my life. My mom, dad, Anna, Quiyamah, and Quiyamah’s mom decided to come over our house and figure out what was going on. The whole time I just sat their silently with my head down, half listening to the conversation, half of my brain in a completely different world. It wasn’t until my mom asked me what if any of my stuff had gone missing that I started talking, and even then I was a sputtering mess, and on the verge of tears.

Quiyamah never actually confessed to stealing my mother’s ring. My mom knew it because we noticed it was gone right after Quiyamah left my house, and my mom NEVER misplaces anything. She never confessed to taking any of my stuff either. In the end I didn’t really know what happened, but I knew Quiyamah wasn’t a good friend. She has lied, used, and talked behind my back before so I felt as though it was a sign once I found out about this situation. The only thing I regretted about the end of our friendship was not telling her off when I had the chance.

In life, protection is the thing everyone searches for, they feel keen when they have it, and show a sense of fear when they are missing it. Humans usually tend to protect things in which they care for deeply, so to say love, whether those things are materialistic or not is a different story.

In my life, I feel as though I become close to many people and many things, so my sense of protection over those things in tremendous. In my eyes though, I tend to protect a certain  group of people the most over everyone, which would be my families. Now I say families, because I feel as though I have two families, both my blood family, aunts uncles mom dad etc., whom I love deeply, and my hockey family, or in layman’s terms my team.

I believe that anyone who has played some sort of team sport, or even a club consisting of a team knows the bond that is built between that group, and I feel as though in a competitive contact sport the idea of protect pops up frequently. The opportunity where there is a need for protection, at least for me, comes up a lot more when with my hockey family, instead of my actual family. There are many of times in which situations come up on the ice where I feel the need to protect my line mates, everything from cheap shots, to poor choices in words, it just comes up more frequently.

It was a brisk November morning, around seven thirty. I was sitting in the passenger seat of a big red 2001 Dodge Ram pick up truck. We were flying down the expressway, it was a Saturday morning, so the roads were basically empty. I was on my normal pregame routine, headphones in blasting songs by Notorious B.I.G and Joey Badass and looking out the window. It felt like it was going to be a normal game, but you can never actually know. I got to the rink a little before everyone, which wasn’t anything new. I continued on with my routine, I got my golf ball out of my bag and headed down the hallway to the spot in which the stored the nets. I always work on my hands before games, it's just something to pass the time.

Eventually the rest of the team arrived to the rink, we did our pre game as a team, which was just a little soccer warm up consisting of us getting in a big circle in attempts to keep the ball in the air and then we got dressed and hit the ice. We skated our warm up, and everyone seemed to be feeling good.

The puck dropped and we were off, I remember fondly how quickly that game moved, not many stoppages, it was a solid flowing game. My line hit the ice and scored the one and only goal of the game late in the second period. We were flying up the ice on a break out, I took noticed of the pinching defenseman, and bolted to the open ice, calling out for the puck. I received a perfect pass and thought I was gone, until I realized that the other defenseman kept up with me. I turned my head and noticed my line mate Jimmy who put it in the net. We celebrated and went back to the bench. After that the game continued to flow. About three or four shifts later, something happened in which I do not think I will ever forget.

We were coming down the ice, it was a quick shift so I was not playing with my line at the time. I rushed into the zone, screaming for a pass. Louie, the one with the puck, tried to dish me the pass, but instead lost it in his skates. He looked down for a split second, but that split second was all it took. Someone on the other team came charging in, with an elbow out, drove louie to the boards, head first, concussing him and eventually keeping him out of the game for weeks. Anyway, this is where I came in, I flew into the pack, in which grouped up because of the hit. I went in for one reason and one reason only, to take care of the kid who laid the hit, but so did everyone else on the team. It relates back to the idea of family and protection. Everyone felt the need to protect him, because we all care deeply about him, he is a teammate, a good friend, and a family member, and nobody likes to see a family member get taken out. When telling this story, it always reminds me of a main key in the story, The yellow birds written by Kevin Powers. The key point I am speaking of is the promise that the main character Bartle made to Murphy's mom, that promise being that he will protect Murph at all costs, because he feels a great connection with both murph and murphy's mother.

Anyway back to the story, I came in a grabbed someone, at this point I was just trying to hold others back, because one of my teammates had already taken care of the kid who I wanted. I had grip on a kid who did not seem to want any parts of anyone except me. He turned around and starting pushing me and trying to throw punches. I did not really want to fight him, or anyone for that matter, so I just did what I usually do, and try to pull a penalty out of the mix by saying things to get him even more mad. I started to talk and next thing I knew I was on the ice face down. I opened my eyes and nobody was around anymore, They were all skating back to there respected benches. I got up, with a little help from the boards and skated back to my bench, I remember suddenly having a brutal pounding headache, but I was still curious as to what happened.

When I got back to my bench, all of my teammates were talking about how they got him, and saying his number over and over, “it was 30, I got 30.” I was still confused so I asked my linemate what was going on. He looked at me with an extremely puzzled look on his face and said “dude he punched you in the back of your head.” And from there everything started to make more sense.

This is another example of the idea of protection, as I spoke about earlier. They all gained a sense of protection over me when I was hit and therefore defenseless.

Now even though there are not exactly spoken promises in my life, especially my hockey life, I feel as though it is one of those things in which is unspoken, but known. It is almost as if it is an unwritten rule. As I said before, it all comes with the bond in which the team builds from playing together and spending so much time with each other.

The amount of protect within the world is crazy, the amount of people who protect others, guardian angels so to say are a great thing. In life people always will be there to protect you, and that is something in which I believe should never be forgotten, but you should also remember that you need to have a sense of protection for those whom you care about, like your family.

I guess you can say it all started back in 8th grade. I had the best group of friends a girl could ask for. But there was that one friend, LuLu.

She seemed to involve herself with every boy in her path and not just any boy. It had to be one of our ex boyfriends or someone we used to have a crush on. Anyone we had feelings for, she would involve herself with. At one point I knew it was going to happen because it was not the first time she betrayed the trust of one of us the way she did. One of our friends, Ezzy, had a major crush on a guy and they were so close to one another that when she claimed that she no longer liked him. We could see it in her eyes that yeah she did not like him, she loved him. Of course LuLu did not get the message and went after him anyways.

It was none of our business on why she would do it, but we wanted to know why. We could not stand the dreadful thought of her hurting one of us again or hurting the next person in her path. Who knew that the next victim involved in all of this would be me. Maria, one of our other friends, did not know what was going on, and she was the closest one to LuLu out of all of us. She did not find out this until a week before we graduated middle school. I was not told anything about it and neither was Ezzy or Jen aware of the situation. Maria promised LuLu that she would not tell me or anyone else about what had happened between her and my “ex” crush. At that point in time I thought I no longer had feelings for him, but I was wrong because a boy named Juan.

“You know you look like you have a crush on me” he brought up.

“What of it” I asked him

“Well, I know you truly don’t. I know that deep down inside of your heart, you still have feelings for Ethan” he said bluntly. In that moment I thought “what would he know.”, but my heart was beating so loud in my ears.

“Maybe he is right” I thought. I still had feelings for this one guy and did not seem let him go. I was just looking for someone to make me let go of these feelings.

“Thanks” I told him

“For” he questioned. I smiled at him.

“For making me realize what my true feelings were” I said.

The next day I decided to talk it out with my friends.

“Hey you know Juan made me realize something yesterday”. I began to tell them during lunch, but it seemed like Maria had something more urgent to say. She did not tell me until the next day. The way Ezzy had to do a whole lap around the school building and came back on the verge of tears proved it. The way Jen seemed to have the air knocked out of her proved that. The way Maria seemed so genuine, ready to comfort the waterworks to come proved that.

The next day was the worst. English class had a whole other meaning to it. Once I was told the way LuLu betrayed me, I was done for. Those clear words are ones I can not write down for the simple reason that they bring up emotions that I do not want to feel again. Ezzy almost cried because she thought of him as a brother and thought of him doing that was downright awful and unbelievable. I cried because I thought he was better than that. He allowed himself to be easily manipulated by her, which was the worst part. Of course we were all curious to know if the whole thing was true so we asked Chris, who was his and one of our friends. The seven of us were close, so in a small group of friends like that, things were bound to be said. When we asked him, he was clueless.  

“Hey did Ethan tell you anything about him and a girl” Maria asked

“No, from what I know he is with nobody, why do you ask” Chris said

“Just asking” I told him

“Don’t lie, what happened, what did he do” Chris asked

“Lunch, we will tell you at lunch” I said

“No, tell me” he demanded

“Lunch” Ezzy said ending the conversation there.When we told him at lunch, he flipped out.

“That has got be a lie, that’s bull” he said, but Maria shook her head as if saying “it is not a lie”

“I thought he was better than that and he did not tell any of us” he said disappointment dripping off of every word. When Ethan and Tommy walked back over to our table we hushed up. Ethan was the most suspicious. We told Tommy later, but we ignored Ethan. Just to my luck he asked me to be his date to the dinner dance for the next day’s graduation. I of course said yes, but never let go of what he possibly did. After the graduation and after the dinner, the next day he texted me and we began to talk. Out of nowhere he brought up the crush I had on him and then brought up what he and my friends had discussed.

“That is a lie, are you seriously going to believe rumors” he texted me, but when high school came the last thing I expected to be brought up once again. A friend who was not even involved and left halfway through the school year managed to find out about it. That was when I knew it was true. What had been a “lie” actually did happen. So I confronted Ethan once again and demanded the truth without a single little lie. He spilled it then and there. I needed some time away from him so I didn’t talk to him for a while, but I slowly started to forgive him because at some point in some of our lives we will be easily manipulated into doing something. We of course are really close friends now, but I find it hard to trust others now. Trust can be easily lost and hard to gain when it comes to me after what had happened. I gained and lost respect for people, but it is something that burns in my memory. I think the reason I never forgot was to remember that even those close to us manage to break us apart and hurt you where it hurts the most. To remember those things still hurt and will continue to hurt and things will happen, but we will eventually forgive and maybe we will slowly forget. I am glad and happy that I was told the truth, that I got the answer that was needed. I did not get the answer I wanted, but as long as it was the truth, I was fine. I do not enjoy sugar coating things when I talk to people, and I do not like it when people sugar coat things when they talk to me. The truth can hurt a lot of the time, but it is something that people just need to know. This was inspired by many moments in “The Yellow Birds”. Every part of the book was true to the events they described. Every detail was included into the book and although the wording made it seem as if everything was a dream, a false hope. It was true all of it was true.

I found inspiration to do write this personal essay when I read a scene in The Things They Carried: "The truth," Norman Bowker would've said, "is I let the guy go."  When I read this, I thought of when I was attack by a dog because after the attack I lied, saying the dog just randomly attacked me. What really happened was very different.

It was May 26, 2007. I was 8. My mother and just born sister was in North New Jersey helping prepare for a family friend's baby shower. Meanwhile, my brother Ato, my father Paul & I went to my dad’s friends house near Saint Joseph's University on cityline avenue. His friend Mr. Chicago was hosting capoeira event where many of his students and friend came. He lived in a huge three story house with about one fourth of an acre of land with a huge Willow oak tree with branches expanding everywhere. There were a jungle gym with a slide, rock climb and three swings with a little one story house with a full living room and couch. When we got there, there were kids running around everywhere, parents talking and eating. In the mini house the adults played on Berimbau, Pandeiro, Atabaque, Agogô, Reco-reco and more. They were so loud you could hear it down the street. Me, Ato and my dad greeted everyone and then went our separate ways. My dad went inside the mini house and played for hours while me and Ato went to the food section. There was vegetables, fruits, meats, desserts and many more. For many hours me and Ato ate food, played with friends and chilled in the main house for a while. I had a very bad stomach ache after eating so much food, so I went to the bathroom for a while. When I came out Mr. Chicago’s dog, a large black and gray color akita. He was as tall as my chest. I have never ever been afraid of a dog before in my life and I was not gonna let this my first. Me and Ato joined back together and played with the dog for awhile. We even ate more food together. We followed the dog around and the dog followed us around as well. I felt like we were really friends. Boy I was wrong.

Me and Ato were swinging on the swing set and I turned to my right to see the dog eating rice and beans off a plate some kid left next to the swing. In my mind I was trying to save a dog’s life from either death or diarrhea. I started staring at the dog until I gained the courage to reach down with my left hand to try and take the plate from the dog. That was the worse decision made in 2007. The dog jumped up and bit into my wrist. As soon as that happened my entire world stopped. I started to ask myself questions like, why am I here right now? Is i'm dreaming right now? Im very tired. This is gonna hurt. Time speeds up again and I see the dog shaking around my arm. I let out a bloodcurdling scream, it didn't hurt at all but I felt like I was supposed to scream. It let go and then jumped my forearm and shook me more furiously. The dog threw me to the ground on my butt. The sudden adrenaline rush made me back away from the dog. The world stopped again for another three seconds and I was able to look into the dog's eyes and it scared the crap out of me. It eyes were icy blue and were focused on me. The world sped up again and the dog started running towards me. I had no time to think. My body, without thinking, flipped around and I laid on my stomach protecting my chest and stomach. Sadly my back was exposed and the dog jumped onto my back and began tearing up my back. I looked over to my right and to see my Dad running at full speed towards my attacker like he was the iron titan from attack on titan. He ran into that dog like Clay Matthews when he’s sacking a quarterback. The dog flew ten feet away from me and dad and two other guys grabbed the dog. While that was happening I managed to get up and climb as high as I could onto the jungle gym crying and in shock from what happened. My dad came over and tried to grab me but I was to scared and pushed his hands away. I wasn’t moving until that dog left. While thinking this in my head, I realized that i’m bleeding a lot so I decided it would be smart for to go with my dad. Him and a bunch of other guys took me to bathroom and probably did the dumbest thing ever in this type of situation. They took a fresh unused bottle of CVS hydrogen peroxide a basically poured it onto my cuts. I screamed until one of my dad's friend made the suggestion of me going to the hospital. My dad came to the realization that, that was actually better than what they were doing act that moment. My father picked me up and carried outside to the car. I was still in pain but the combination of shock and adrenaline leveled me out. I was meet with outside with a yard full of confused, concerning stares. My day was pretty going really badly at that point bad luckily my dad let me sit in the front and rolled down the window for me. Got from the outskirts of philly to center city in probably like 3 minutes. It was probably more like 10 minutes but the mixture of shock and adrenaline sped time up for me. When we got there the security guards took me out the car and put me in the wheelchair and rushed me into a operational room. I sat there and waited for the doctor to come in and tell me that all I needed was bandages and no school but, instead I had to be given stitches which sucked. When the doctor asked what happened I lied and said I was reaching for my gatorade bottle nowhere near the dog and it  just randomly attacked me. I felt bad for saying it but also I thought I would get in trouble if I told the truth so I just lied. As the doctor was sticking needles into my back and arm I screamed the whole time even though they gave me numbing medicine and I only felt a little I just felt like it was an appropriate time to scream. When the doctor was down he informed my dad that I was given 18 separate stitches. After about 20 minutes my mother came rushing in freaking out about how i'll be scarred for life and I must be feeling sad and scared about though I was alright because I got mcdonalds and was watching spongebob and laughing my butt off. Eventually the doctors had to kick us out because their were others kids who needed help. When I got home I started to feel really bad about what I said because they were going to unitize the dog but, I still didn't want to tell, so I waited a couple of months later and then I told my mom. It turned out that she wasn't mad at me and it was all right. The dog was gonna die anyway. Still to this day I have scars from the attack but, I still also have no prejudice against any dog.

Dear students, put yourself in my shoes:

In February, you get rear-ended on your bicycle and end up in the hospital. You’re not seriously injured, but the doctors come to you before they release you to let you know: They found something strange in your CT scan, you’ve got a lesion in your left hip. What’s a lesion, exactly? You know that a lesion on skin is a kind of wound. What does it mean when you have a lesion in your bone?

Two days later, an oncologist at Penn explains: it’s a tumor. No, it’s probably not cancer. But whatever it is, it’s slowly eating your bone from the inside out. You’re going to need a biopsy to figure out what it is, and whatever it is will have to come out sooner or later, or else your left femur is going to turn to mush.

If this all sounds a little foreign, imagine how I felt sitting on the examination table, trying to take notes on a whole lot of concepts I had never heard before.  I mean that literally -- I had a notebook with questions I had dutifully writing down before the appointment. And sure, I wrote down the answers to what I thought to ask.

But that encounter was the very beginning of what I would come to understand over the next year: I knew almost nothing about what was going on with my body, and even less about what treatment and recovery would be like in the next months.

Here’s a brief summary of what the medical interventions were like.

The Biopsy. You take a day off work to go to the hospital, and get put in something called “twilight anaesthesia,” where you’re awake but not really in touch with reality. They then put you in a CT scanner so they can spot exactly where the tumor is, and extract a sample with a long needle. At the end, you have to hang out for a few more hours to make sure the narcotics have worn off. Your husband volunteers to get you food from the cafeteria, which is great because you haven’t eaten anything in twelve hours.

The Pre-Surgery Meetings. Turns out you have Giant Cell Tumor, which is exactly what it sounds like: the cells are getting really big, which means they are getting soft, which means you will have a collapsed femur one of these days if the malignant cells aren’t removed. You set a date for surgery and meet the anaesthesiologist. “Do you have any problem with transfusions?” He asks. No… but which religion does, again? And then all of a sudden you are talking about the amazing blood recycling machines that they use Jehovah’s Witnesses.

The Surgery. You go to the hopsital at 5AM. Your husband kisses you goodbye at 6. Another couple is parting ways at the elevator. The woman in the other bed is crying, a little. You’re not crying. A part of you judges her for crying. The other part of you thinks, what does she know that I don’t? The medical residents spend a lot of time looking for a vein they can see. The surgeon initials your hip with a sharpie. This is one of many times they ask you to confirm exactly where they are going to cut. The OR room itself looks kind of like an alien examination room, except it’s very well lit and they’re playing Justin Timberlake. Everybody seems like they’re in a good mood. “It’s Monday morning,” they tell you, “and we like our jobs.” They give you some warm blankets, and that’s the last thing you remember.

The Post-Surgery Follow-Up. Two weeks after the surgery, you go back to the surgeon’s office. You’ve followed all the instructions: take pain meds when needed, change the dressing on your incision every three days, shower but don’t scrub at the staples. You lay down on your side and the physician’s assistant uses pliers to pull them out and drop them in a small metal tin. Click, click, click. This, strangely, is the first thing that has hurt more than you will expect it to. At first you try and count the number but after a while you just focus on breathing. Once it’s done, she shows you the x-ray of your new titanium-enhanced femur. “It looks great, healing well,” she says, only you don’t really hear her because you and your husband are just staring at the X-Ray. What is that, you think. I had no idea it would look like that.

This sounds like the end of the story, but really it was the beginning. A new beginning where I was everything that I used to be, except now I was also a member of a rare disease club, a survivor of major surgery, and the owner of an implant. I posted the X-ray image on Facebook. “You’re bionic!” My friends cheered. I started going to physical therapy, slept a lot, and was cautiously optimistic I would be able to ditch my cane by the time school started in September.

This was foolhardy. But it reflected my mindset at the time: this was a thing that would pass, it would be difficult and then I would go back to being “my old self.”

I’d like to say that I disposed of this mindset quickly, but I actually clung to it even as my condition worsened. Going back to work was a relief, because I had something to do, but the muscles in my left leg did not agree. I wanted to act like everything was fine, but walking became a real ordeal, and I spent many hours between classes face down on Siswick’s couch with an ice pack wedged into my hip joint.  Despite this, I thought it would be a good idea to go to a black tie event in New York and wear high heels. I paid for that for weeks.

According to my surgeon, everything looked fine -- no tumor recurrence, no messed up implant--which in a way was even more frustrating, because there was no definitive explanation why my body wasn’t playing nice. It just wasn’t. The worst was the occasional muscle spasm -- kind of like a charlie horse, but faster and more intense. My whole leg would seize up and I would just have to wait it out. Speaking was not really an option when these happened. The first time one hit me, I had just stood up on the bus to get off at 22nd and Chestnut, to go to school.

As the bus slowed for the stop, I started to panic: I can’t move right now, and I can’t really ask for help. What if the bus passes my stop? The thought of having to shuffle down an extra block to work was almost worse than the muscle spasm.

It was around this time last year that my juniors were reading “The Things They Carried” and we were talking about how you convey a unique experience to others. They all knew I was still recovering from surgery. One class in particular was good about telling me to sit down already when I kept walking around to work with them.

I tried my hand at explaining the phenomenon of the muscle spasms. “Have you ever seen those videos of hot lava, once it’s flowed away from the volcano? How the lava cools on the surface, but you can see it slowly shifting around underneath that surface?”

They nodded their heads.

“Well, it feels like that.”

I got a lot of shocked stares. “You mean, it feels like your muscles are on fire?”

Well… not exactly. I tried a different approach.

“Who in this room has some kind of metal implant in their body?”

To my mild surprise, several kids raised their hands. One had a few screws in his hand. Another had scoliosis as a child, and now had a rod in her back.”

“And, can you feel it?”

“Yeah, of course. If I twist really quickly I can feel it bump up against my spine.”

This got even more weird looks from classmates, and a couple of gasps. The student and I shrugged at each other.

So, what’s the point of this story?

I still haven’t really figured out how to explain to people what it’s like to have your body get used to a foreign object. I am still saying, on occasion, “I wish I could have you feel what this feels like.” Not to take the pain off of my hands, but just so someone could get it.

And yet: I’ve come to realize that one of the strange gifts of this whole experience is that I get it, with “it” being many kinds of physical trauma. I know how to coach someone through physical therapy that takes months. I can commiserate with new moms who have had an epidural, because I got one after my surgery. And when a close friend of mine had to get bone surgery herself, on her hand, I was there when she woke up in the hospital, there to tell her that the pain would pass eventually.

So it’s not so much that I am seeking to explain to people what this experience is like. It’s more that if and when they come into it themselves, I am here to greet them and help them make sense of what on earth is going on. I have a small lead on them, but I am still figuring it out myself. Which is kind of the point: I am still me, because I am still building who that person is.

My little sister was born on May 26th, 2012 in Hong Kong. It was a moment in my life where everything changed because I was no longer an only child. This was very hard for me to grasp because I would no longer be the center of attention and I was very used to that. When I heard that my dad and my stepmom were expecting a baby, the thought of being forgotten was the only thing on my mind until she was born. As terrible as it sounds, I was not happy at all that my dad was having another child. On top of everything I was not on good terms with my stepmom, because it always felt like she was keeping me away from my dad. But when my sister was born everything changed, like a lot.

The doctors told my dad and stepmom that my little sister would be born in August, so when she came in May it was a huge surprise. This is extremely early for a pregnancy, and this meant that she was very small and underdeveloped. I was shown photos of her but I personally didn’t think it was all that serious from everything my dad told me. I presume he didn’t want me to worry or feel bad so he sugarcoated how serious the whole situation actually was.  But every summer I’d go stay with my dad in Hong Kong which meant I would be seeing my little sister very soon, and although she was in the hospital I still wasn’t happy at all to meet her.

It was both a happy yet a heartbreaking moment to see my little sister for the first time. She had such beautiful blue eyes, and I could see the resemblance of my dad in her despite her size. Although I was very happy that I was meeting my sister, I could see how troubled my dad and stepmom were. There wasn’t much of a smile on their face as they knew that at any moment things could go south and my little sister could pass away. This hit me hard too because it wasn’t the first time this has happened to my family. A couple years ago before my sister was born my stepmom had a miscarriage, so I could only imagine what her and my dad were experiencing physiologically. I relate their feelings as to how Tim O’Brien described how many of his friends blamed themselves for the death of their friends because in my eyes, throughout those long 6 months, my dad and my stepmom placed the blame on themselves for every little thing that happened to my little sister. But as things got more serious I felt more separated from sister and distant from my dad. I knew it wasn’t my fault but I couldn’t help taking the blame, as if I did something bad. Ever since I saw my sister for the very first time, I convinced that I would be the  best older brother and that having a sister was the best thing that had ever happened to me(very different to what I thought about a month ago).

Too many of you reading who are reading this story, you may think it’s pretty sad, so I’m not going to dive too deeply into everything that happened during my little sisters battle, as it is very personal to me, but also may be a little intense.)

3 weeks after I arrived in Hong Kong, doctors found a porencephalic cyst in my little sister brain. A rare disorder in the central nervous system of the brain, which can delay development and other such things, Doctors told my dad that she would never be normal, wouldn’t be able to run, or walk like other kids. Of course I didn’t find out about this until a few weeks later, but I can only imagine how hard that must’ve hit my dad and stepmom. But it sure did hit me hard, everything I envisioned in doing with my sister vanished into thin air. I wouldn’t be able to play with her, laugh with her, and see her grow without pain or complete healthiness. As time went by doctors recommended things to help my sister, but consulting doctors from the U.S disagreed with many of the things they said, and they decided to give minimal treatment to my sister. Although things seemed to be improving, my dad and stepmom remained in the hospital all day and all night holding on, waiting for miracle so that they could bring her home healthy. It hurt me to see my dad in the emotional state that the was in. During those 6 months I saw my dad cry for the very first time, and that was a big moment because my dad never ever showed his emotions like he did.

Days became weeks, weeks became months. As my sister got sicker and sicker, I grew further away from her, as doctors wouldn’t let me see due to her state. I felt more distant than usual from my dad as he wouldn’t speak to me like he used due to what was going on. Sometimes when my dad and my stepmom would stay in the hospital stay and not come home for days, I would think about if something had happened to my sister. I felt like I was being held back from knowing what was going on, and my mind was telling me it was because I was no longer important anymore.

At this point, you might be thinking that she passed away. In fact, this story has a completely normal, happy ending. After being told that my sister wouldn’t be normal, and wouldn’t be able to do everyday things, it ends up that the doctors were wrong. My sister is now 110% normal. She can walk, talk, run, and even do pull ups if you believe it or not, which I think is impressive for a kid who’s only 3 years old. But after being in the hospital for half a year, my stepmom was very overprotective over her, because she was worried that something else might happen. Although she was out the hospital, I wasn’t able to spend time with her like I do now, and I don’t blame my stepmom at all, because I think any parent would do what she did after what happened.

There was a big effect on my dad and stepmom lives, and mine even after my little sister was released from hospital care. My dad decided it would be a good idea to take my sister to CHOP in Philadelphia so doctors could give her a better diagnosis, because even though she wasn’t being held in the hospital the cyst she had was still present. Everything that we did with my sister was done with a lot of precaution. For the first two years of my sister life, any time she would get sick my stepmom would panic and take her to the hospital. It was hard to see my stepmom stressing out about something that happened almost two years ago.

I went from being pessimistic about having a sister to striving to be the best brother out there. I went from having a horrible relationship with my step mom to really bonding and getting closer to her. There was a good,bad, and ugly things that came from what happened to my sister, but I learned a lot about myself through this time period. That I can be quick to judge and come to final verdicts without much proof and evidence, but after all of this I learned to not to judge so quickly. Seeing the smiles on my dad and stepmom's face when my little sister took her first steps was a moment I would never forget. And now that I’ve watched my sister grow so much it’s made me realize how much I actually do love her and how grateful I am that she made it. She’s turning 4 years old in May and it’s going to be happy moment for all of us, and watching her become an adult will be an even happier moment for me. All I can say now is that I am proud to be her brother and I always will be.

We sat on the ground together, huddled in front of the large wooden doll house on a Sunday morning, as she carefully placed her Littlest Pet Shop animals together on the balcony. I realized Wylie’s curly hair was getting longer than mine, and how I had seen it grow since it was only a short, strawberry blonde mop sitting atop her head. Wylie’s parents, Becca and Bill, were out on their usual sunday morning run. It had been almost two years since I began babysitting for Becca and Bill, and Wylie was now a bright four year old, eager to go to kindergarten. Most weekends I’d babysit for them on Sunday mornings, and occasionally Friday or Saturday nights. On our Sunday playdates, Wylie and I would blow up the moon bounce in the backyard that Bill’s brother had mistakenly bought full size. My Sunday visits were normally relaxed, short, and sweet, but it hadn’t always been that way.

The job began after my sister, who had babysat for them only two times, was forced to bail out one Saturday night. After my mom recommended me for the job, I met Becca for the first time. Becca is a tall, athletic woman, whose darker, sandy blonde hair was unlike her daughter’s. That first night, their home was being renovated, something for which she apologized profusely. Both she and Bill seemed eager to leave the house and go out, as she rambled off a list of reminders including “if she doesn’t eat the vegetables it’s no big deal” and “don’t let her bring any of the hard toys to bed”. She finished off her list with a warning: “She has been fussy all day, and so she’ll probably whine about us leaving. If she cries, just let her cry it out.” As the couple moved swiftly out of the back door, the tears came rolling.

It was one of my first real babysitting experiences; I had never dealt with a 2 year old before, let alone a crying one. She began to panic, and her cries turned into screams as her parents drove out of the garage and down the long driveway. Her small, red hands were pressed against the glass of the back door, and she peered out, periodically stomping her feet in anger and confusion. I was frozen. I wanted so badly to say the right thing, stop her crying and have her look at me and smile. Becca had told me to let her be, to not give her the satisfaction, but I caved. I knelt down next to her and pulled her hair out of her face. I frantically shhh-ed her and told her that things would be okay. Like I had feared, she didn’t stop there. She yelled for her mother in a language I can only describe as somewhere between Smeagol and the Cookie Monster. I knew I had to do something, but it was my first time babysitting for this little girl and I didn’t want her to see me as the person that comes to replace her parents and yells at her. I grabbed her a paper towel to dry her tears and told her to look at me. She looked up and focused on me for the first time.

“Wylie, it’s gonna be ok. Your parents are going to be home soon,”

She stared up at me with red puffy cheeks and snot dripping from her nose. She asked me, timidly,

“Wiw dey be home befow I go to bed?”

I looked at her, half shocked she said something to me, half relieved that she wasn’t crying. Becca and Bill had shown me where her diapers were and how to put them on, extensively detailed their tuck in routine, and of course they had told me which setting was correct on her nightlight/ white noise maker. I knew that her parents would not be home before I put her to bed, and yet,

“Yes, they will be home very soon.”

With that, we went on with our night. Wylie calmed down and ate her dinner, got in her PJ’s, brushed her teeth, and I read her favorite books to her. By the end of the night, she went to bed peacefully. I thought about what I had said after I had finally put her to bed that night. Why did I lie to this little girl? What sort of person does that? It startled me how quickly I had said it. I was so ready to please her when I wasn’t even supposed to indulge her in the first place. But she didn’t remember my promise, or ask about her parents again that night. I got away with it, and it felt good.

My visits with Wylie carried on that way. I couldn’t count the many times Wylie has been in a bad mood and I’ve told her what she wants to hear, or the times I’ve said words she’d never heard, and most times I give halfhearted explanations that she misinterprets. These aren’t lies, I reassure myself, they are mistakes that will be fixed with experience. Because roasted and cooked are almost the same word, and she probably won't bring up the time she complained about her parents being gone on a cloudy Sunday morning. But my lies run deeper than she knows. Mine are lies born out of awkward encounters with middle school boys, Christmas gifts that I “didn’t mean to open”, and all of the pretzels I got for free on pretzel day. If you ask my old friends or family who knew me when I was in elementary school what I was like, most would say I lied. A lot. My family makes fun of me now for the things I would say to get myself out of obligations or to get what I wanted. In Tim O’Brien’s “The Things They Carried”, he discusses what it means to tell a true story in war. He notes that often times, the real story of an event is not only less interesting than the one you tell, but sometimes, it is less true. At the peak of my dependance, I would tell elaborate lies purely for the attention I received from the story- something that I didn’t admit the reason to until it was too late.

In first grade, I was at a tiny (20 kid per grade) school in Germantown called Project Learn. The school publicized itself as a free thinking, art-centered elementary school. I was a student there since Kindergarten, and the class size was so small that the teachers could truly get to know and love their students. Similarly, the small grade meant that I had the same kids in my class in every year, and we all grew very close. Jane, my first grade teacher, was teaching us about fables one particular spring. We heard, and acted out the tales of Paul Bunyan and Johnny Appleseed as a class. I loved hearing the stories, and my friends and I would always pick the roles that went together in each reenactment. On one special show and tell, Jane asked us to tell the tale of our weekend, like one of the fables we read. Conveniently, I had just gone to a Phillies game over the weekend, and I was eager to tell everyone my tale. Looking back, I have no doubt that many of the children in this circle made up weekend plans or exciting stories, but I was nearly last student to tell mine, and after hearing the others I knew just attending a baseball game was not good enough. I told my class about the miraculous hit that went straight over my head and into the mitt of the man reaching out right behind us. The man saw me, just a row in front of him, staring at the ball in his glove, and he gave it to me. I was quickly persecuted by my classmates, who chided, “That didn’t happen!”, “So where’s the ball?”, “I saw the game and I didn’t see you catch anything”. These complaints were followed by a call from Jane to my parents, wondering about my amazing experience. My dad told her the real story, and she talked to him about me on a long phone conversation. I was ashamed of what I had done, and angry at my classmates for insulting me. When my dad finally asked me why I did it, I couldn’t come up with an answer.

I wish that I could say that that was my last lie, but there were many more, and there probably will be more along the way. The lies I told when I was younger may be the ones that I regret the most, but I believe that stopping now is pointless. The lies and stories I’ve made up have helped shape who I am today, and I can’t help but be at least a little thankful for everything they have done for me. And so when I sit with Wylie at her doll house on a Sunday morning, and her toy dog falls from the balcony and its head falls off, and she is unable to get its head back on, and I see her eyes start to swell, and she looks in search of her mother and asks me,

“When will mommy be home?”

I know what I’ll say.

     I knew he wanted to join, but didn't actually think he would go through with the decision. In August of 2011, my brother left home for the Navy. I felt all these emotions, I didn't know how to react. I was happy, proud, sad, worried, but it didn't matter because I had my friends to count on.  When he broke the news about enlisting, I was at home hanging out with my family. I think we were watching the Big Bang Theory and my mom said that we need to have a family meeting. So I immediately

thought,  "who did it, who is in trouble and it must be that bad because we all have to hear about it." My brothers and I  kind of looked at each other with a confused expression on our faces. So my mom broke the silence and said " So Joshua, do you have something to tell your siblings?"

I was so confused. I wasn't expecting him to say yes.

" Yes I do, and After graduation I plan on joining the military."  he said.

   I was speechless, proud, but also scared.

I spoke up and asked, " What branch do you want to join?"

" The Navy," Josh said.

    I thought to myself " I was so close from having someone else in my family join the Military."

After Josh told us, I looked at him differently. Not in a judging way, but as if he was my hero. I can proudly say that I am a sister of a naval corpsman. A few weeks went by and I was given permission to tell my friends about him joining the navy. When I told them they had a dull expression. It was as almost as if they didn't care, but in all honesty, they did care, they were with me through all of it.

    The day of his departure was approaching quickly, we only had a month left with him so we made it count. Every year during summer vacation we would go on a family trip to the beach. We would rent a house with a pool because my brothers didn't really like the sand and salt water. I, on the other hand, could stay there for hours and not get tired of it. The house was big enough to fit 12 people. Staying in the house was my mom, stepdad, the 3 boys ( Matt, Nick, and Josh), me, my grandmother, uncle, and aunt, plus their two girls (Ronnie and Francie). We'd stay there for a week and have so many fun things planned. One day we went to see “Lucy the Giant Elephant”. Another day we stayed back at the house and played a whole bunch of games and we even watched a few movies.

    Those were some of the bittersweet moments. Sometimes when I really miss josh I will look on facebook and check out all the photos we have together or even just on my phone.  

I was sitting on Maggie's bed feeling a little bit down and upset. she noticed and asked me " what's wrong?"

" Just thinking on how it will be different not seeing Josh every day and how much I will miss him."

She said to me " Amanda, you shouldn't have to worry about that, everything will be okay. It's not like he is going to be gone forever he will come back. plus you'll be able to see him when you can."

I knew she was right so I just nodded my head and we continued hanging out. But of course, I couldn't drop it that quickly.

" But he is going to miss my 13th birthday, it's a big deal this year!!"

" You're right it is your 13th birthday but that doesn't mean he won't try to be there. If he can't make it he can't make it. But if he can then awesome!" she told me.

    July went by too fast. We now only had 24 days left til Josh left. It was down to making sure he had everything he needed from the right shirts to the right socks. We planned to have a farewell party the day before he left. The last 3 weeks had were spent getting the for the party. We went shopping at least 5 times during those 3 weeks.  It was the day before the party that I started to think about what was really happening. I told myself " Don't think too much you have 2 days left with him, push it to the back of my head." I did just that and had fun.

    Party time! We spent the whole morning cleaning and decorating the whole house. Even the backyard was set up too. We knew it was going to be a hot day so we had at least 10 tents up to provide shade. During the day we had family over and when it was around 5:30 some friends came over to party. We had a fun time hanging out with everyone. Everyone who was still at my house left around 2:00 am.

    Today is the day. The day I say goodbye to my brother for a little while.  I didn't want him to leave and I couldn't show that I was upset.  It was around 10:00 am when I was woken up to the smell of delicious food that my amazing mother cooked for us. Josh was being picked up by his recruiter at 1:00 pm. That gave us 4 hours to be together. My grandmother, Marie (Josh's Girlfriend) and her parents, my aunt, cousin, my mom, stepdad, matt, nick, and josh were all there. We Spent most of the time trying not to talk about the fact that he was leaving. Time went by fast and before we knew it we were taking photographs at 12:55 pm. My final 5minutes with my brother. I went inside because I had to go use the bathroom, and by the time, we finished taking photos it was 1:00 pm. As I was walking up the path to my house I could see someone standing there.

" Hi, Does Joshua Marshall live here?" The man said.

" Yes, we are in the back yard let me take you back," I answered.

" Hey guys, I think it's time to say goodbye," I told everyone.

   Everyone looked at me and slowly got up and we all walked back up to the front yard. My mom started to tear up and I watched as everyone else started to tear up too. I never thought I'd see my brothers start to cry when they hugged Josh goodbye. As I watched him get into the car, I began to cry my eyes out.

(The Events that are about to take place have happened and they are all facts. The only thing is the dates may not be correct, but around the same time period.)

[ The inspiration for this story, is from reading a book called “The Things They Carried.” In this book there is a chapter that explains how the main character (Author: Tim O’brien) feels about death. And, he explains that Death makes him think more about the world, and when he tells his story in the chapter’s Good Form and In the field. After, having a near death experience back to back, that I can’t never forget, makes me cherish life more. Not, only did I almost drown but I live to tell this story another day. ]

May 26th 2008

I was eight years old at the time.  About 1 or 2 weeks my great grandmother had passed away and everyone was still mourning her passing. This was a hard time for everyone and no one was the same for awhile. My family was usually filled with laughter, there weren’t many arguments lately. And the little kids (my siblings and I) hardly got yelled at for breaking something, or drawing on the wall. Which was pretty occasional.

May 27th 2009

During a day at school, my siblings and I returned home to find a few relatives in our home. They were closely related to my great grandmother. They greeted us and we greeted them. They said the usual when we saw them, such as “You’ve gotten so big since the last time I saw you, or “How old are you now”, even “I remember when I was changing your diapers.” And I would sit there and listen like I cared, which I really didn’t. But, the thing that was weird is that my mother allowed strangers to me at the time change my diaper, like what if they touched me in inappropriate ways. . . But, that’s besides the point. My relatives (Cousins) decided to invite my siblings and I to a upcoming family reunion (I think they felt that we were in ‘pain’ at the time) in July. In the beginning of the month, they gave us a date, a time, and the place.

May 29th 2009

    It’s been two days since we got the news of the upcoming Family Reunion and my Mom and my Grand Ma were still speculating whether they should let us go or not because they have really never let all of the kids go away at once, and they were a little afraid because of that. They were okay with us going away to another relative’s house for the weekend, but we were going out of state and we were going to be surrounded by strangers basically. After, my Mom and my Grandma talked about it for awhile they decided on the decision to let us go to the Family Reunion. They said it would be a good experience for us. They said we need to meet our family and need to go out and have a good time, instead of being in the house during the summer.

June 13th 2009

This was the last day of school and I decided to tell all my friends about my upcoming events for the summer. I do not know if they were as excited for me going away for the summer as I was, but they all said they hope that I would have a good time. I was so excited for the reunion that I decided to go straight home after school, although I knew that the reunion was probably a month away.

June 20th 2009

It’s been a week since school ended and I could honestly say that I was anticipating all the things that I would be doing at the reunion more and more as the days went by. The days went by even slower because, for one I wasn’t in school and I was in the house because of the heat. I was just thinking about going swimming, meeting new people, and the big banquet at the end of the reunion. I was really looking forward towards the swimming although I didn’t know how to swim.

June 25th 2009

It was time for us to start going shopping for clothes, shoes, and accessories to take with us on the trip. One thing I remember is when we bought wash clothes and tooth paste my mother just grabbed a hand full, without looking at the colors. And, when we got back to the house, my mother started passing out the wash clothes. When it was my turn to get a wash cloth I had to get the last one which was a dark pink, which everyone made fun of me for. But, oh well we were  couple days closer to the big day.

July 11th 2009

It’s two days before we head down to North Carolina for the family reunion. We were packing bags, and are really excited for the next week. We were going to have a great time. But, I had butterflies in my stomach. I think I was starting to get nervous about leaving for awhile, and also going to an unfamiliar place.

July 12th 2009

Today is the day, My siblings and  go to our relatives house, to get ready to head down to North Carolina early in the morning. My cousin came and got us, and took us to the chinese store. He ordered us a couple of egg rolls each. I remember being angry because my sisters ate most of them and I only ate one. My cousin drove us to his Mom´s house because that’s where we would be staying for the night. We called his mom Flo. That’s what we grew up calling her every time we seen her. She showed us where we would be sleeping that night. After, she showed us we all took showers and went to sleep. Because, we had to get up early.

July 13th 2009

6:00 in the morning and I was really tired. Flo woke me and my siblings up, and I remember being rushed to the bathroom, then being rushed down the stairs. Flo made made my siblings and me carry out coolers, suitcases, and blankets to a Grey Hound bus that was outside waiting for us. When, we got outside I remember looking around seeing a bunch of cars and a lot of people. All family I guess. We were the last to board the bus, and now I guess our journey has finally begun.

July 13th - 15th 2009

After, we boarded the bus, I remember falling asleep right away. Now, that I think about, I really don't remember talking to my siblings as much on the bus, because I decided to sit next to a relative named Sunny Jr. The only reason why I sat next to him is because he bought me buffalo wings on a rest break. It was approaching night time and I can remember being so bored because the tv was broke and there was nothing to watch, so sleep was the only option. At, another stop I remember learning not to sit on the toilets in public places. Flo told me if I had to poop when I went to the bathroom, make sure that I put toilet paper on the toilet seats so I wouldn’t get crabs. At, the time I didn’t know what that meant, but now I do. At, this point we were almost at North Carolina, we had at least 3 more hours or so. I went to sleep for the remainder of the time and when I woke up, I remember it being really dark, but I could see a white picket fence, and a empty road. After, about 10 minutes, I seen a sign that said “Welcome to North Carolina” Everyone on the bus had gotten very excited that we all had finally reached our destination. It was like 30 min until we reached our hotel and I remember it was a big hotel. But, as soon as we got there we all went straight to bed. I remember having to share a bed with Flo.

July 17th 2009

The day has finally come. I was waiting for this day since I heard the news about the reunion. Flo let me and my sister go down to the pool with a lot of relatives. I seen a Cousin that I would see occasionally and he said he would watch me while I was in the pool, so I guess that was cool. I went to sit by the pool and a guy came over to me and introduced me to his sons. When they came over at first, I was a little timid because I didn’t know them but after awhile I began to talk more. After a lil bit, we all decided to get in the pool. I set on the steps in the pool because I couldn’t swim, and they teased me because of it. I then decided to do what they were doing because I wanted to be cool and I was tired of the teasing. All though I couldn’t swim I decided to jump in the pool at 5ft. Where none of us could swim at. All I remember is falling backwards and gasping for air, and flailing around like a fish out of water. This continued for a while (seemed like forever) until my cousin came and pulled me out of the water. I sat on the side of the pool for a little bit, until I decided it was boring. So, I decided to jump back in with everyone else, in the same spot that I almost drowned in before. The same thing happened as before, I got pulled out by my cousin, and that’s all I can really remember until the banquet, but that’s for another story.

Dear Unidentified man,

I want to thank you for showing me the part of the world that you should not speak,hear, or see about. Your body showed the dark parts of you life from the bruise on you leg to the holes on your arm, your teeth was as rotten as the 4 week apple on the floor next to you. But you eyes told a different story, it was filled with love, joy, and happiness. So I thank for everything that I learned from you, but I am sorry that you had to die for me to realize the cold truth.

From when I was born till I was 7 it was always just me and my mom. My mom was very protective of me so I always was shielded from the world and was held in her protection. My mom had just started dating my step dad for a couple month now. We were visiting his mother's house at Maschern Indiana street in North Philly. I try to say this as kindly as I can but, the house was disgusting. The house only had only one light source which was on the end of the step railing and it projected a yellow light since no one had cleaned the light cover. They had an old fashioned tv were you change the channel on the TV but they had a Spanish show on so I didn’t pay attention to that. My skin felt like their was a swarm of bugs crawling on me. the air was thick and it smelled like food. There was so many bugs there that you can’t count, I needed to get of there so I asked my mom if I can sit on the step. She said yes but only if I go out there with my new cousins and that I can’t leave the step.

So me and my new cousin were sitting on the step looking at the sky. It was about 5:00pm and you can see the sun start to set. I heard my cousins talk but I didn’t understand their lingo so I kept quite. I realize that they didn’t have shoes on and I thought that was weird but I never questioned it. They walked to the corner and told me to follow them, I checked to see if my mom was in the door before I ran towards them. We were playing “spit spit spit you are not it” when suddenly you hear a car suddenly press the gas a couple blocks down. So we all turn our head to the noise and then we raise the car was coming up their block, they yelled duck as if this was a routine for them. So I did, as I was ducking the car back door slides open and a body wrapped in a rug or blanket gets thrown out in front of us while the car was moving. As the body started to roll, the blanket or rug that he was in started to unroll with him. It happened so quickly that I didn’t realize what just happened. I started to smell an odd stench in the air and my head followed the smell. That's when I saw him. He was laying on the sidewalk, his body was as stiff as ice as if he had been dead for hours. The first thing I saw was the band wrapped on his upper arm, then I saw the holes on his arm, then I saw how thin he was and his teeth. While I was examining him from a distance, my cousins were jumping over him as if he was not human. The sun shone on his eyes and that’s when I saw them. They were the lightest blue eyes that I have ever saw. They looked like the sky on a sunny day, his eyes showed a different story. But before I could continue to look my mom had swooped me into her arms and cover my eyes. She took me straight home and didn’t say goodbye to anyone. Like Rat Kiley in “The things they carried” I wasn’t my funny self anymore, I become more dull towards the world because of seeing death. After seeing a dead body for the first time, I never looked at life the same again. Growing up I never really thought of death or anything beyond life, I never realized or acknowledge that death was real.

That night I asked my mom what happened to that man. “Nothing, he was just sick.” my mom said.

“Why didn’t he go to the doctors to get better?” I asked. “I don’t know, but don’t worry about.” she said. Being the child that I was I let it go. But as I got older, I started to realize what really happened to him. According to the investigating, the guy got high with his friends a couple blocks down and he OD. His friends didn;t want their block to get “hot” so they dumped the body a couple blocks down. All of that over drugs. At a young age almost every adult you meet says “Don’t do drugs kids”.  “But why” asked every kid. Some might have gotten a response back but most didn't because they were too young to understand. Some kids rebel and go against what their parents say and I feel like because they don’t know the real world consequence. If it wasn’t for that day, I wouldn't be the person that I am today. By the time I was in 8th grade, majority in my class either had sex, use drugs, drink, and steal. So many people tried to influence me but what had stopped me was the man, because it showed the the real long term consequence and not the happy and fun short term enjoyment.

But the most important lesson of all that the man taught me was that everyone dies. No one is promised to live a full life, no one is promised to live to see their kids get married and have grand kids, and at the end of the day. Rich or poor, you still end up in the same place. You can not cheat death, so yes live life to your fullest but don’t take advantage of you life and not waste it on short term enjoyment. The problem with today is that we care more about money than our lives because we were never shown about death and the ending for the cycle of life because it's ‘safer” to not show that dark part about humanity. It’s better to be reminded that you will die than because you don't take anything for granted than to be reminded that you are alive making you think you are invincible.

So thank you once again, for teaching me about life and the price that comes with it.

Sincerely,

The innocent bystander