American Literature (G) Portfolio

                     Living in a world where people jump at the slightest opportunity to criticise one’s actions, it is no surprise when we often hear esteemed people in our society castigated for an error which can be  considered  inevitable to human nature. The same blood flow through all men including those whose duty is to set the order of human behavior in the society and those who are expected to follow them. Although much power is entrusted into the hands of those who are appointed to lead in the society, they are susceptible to making the same mistakes they often times punish other people for committing. In the book THE SCARLET LETTER , the Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale is punished by the consequences of his adulterous affair with Hester Prynne. Even though Dimmesdale can be defined as a hypocrite or a mysterious man, it doesn’t change the fact that he is a good man. Those can just be considered as imperfections which naturally occur in every man. Dimmesdale’s determination to confess his sin anytime he mounted the stage to preach, his self induced punishment for the inability to confess his sin, his excellent execution of his role as a minister and his final confession suggest that Dimmesdale although has some moral deficiencies is a good man.

        Reverend Dimmesdale does not seek to make Hester suffer alone. It has always been his desire to confess his sin.  After several attempts “ more than once , Dimmesdale had gone into the pulpit with a purpose never to come down its steps, until he should have spoken words of the above” (Hawthorne 130). Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale was a good man and couldn’t bear the burden cast on his own soul by no confessing his sins. He always wanted to confess his sin  whenever he mounted the stage. Unlike Chillingworth who is marked by revenge and hatred, the Dimmesdale is has a soft kind heart which couldn’t bear his sin. It was also Dimmesdale’s kindness of heart and his thirst for righteousness which made it unbearable for him to see Hester suffer alone;hence, his determination to confess to vindicate himself.

         Besides Dimmesdale’s determination to confess his sin, the torture he exerted on himself  forces the reader to have pity for the poor Preacher.  Dimmesdale punishes himself because of his secret sin as “He kept vigils, likewise, night after night, sometimes in utter darkness ; sometimes with a glimmering lamp; and sometimes,viewing his own face in a looking glass, by the most powerful light which he could throw upon it” (Hawthorne 131). Dimmesdale’s kindness couldn’t allow him  rest  in the dark while Hester suffered in the night. He was struggling with public confession, but because he was a good man and couldn’t stand it , he resorted to punishing himself. He deliberately kept late night vigils and sometimes even went as far as smiting himself with a rod.

       Not only this but also, Dimmesdale is a good man because of his excellent execution of his role as a minister and his final confession.The principles of the Bible on which the foundations of the Puritan society was built points out clearly  none is righteous but the Almighty God. Although dimmesdale had sinned, he still carried out his duties as a minister diligently and even touched more lives with his powerful sermons. Nonetheless, he was not satisfied with his powerful sermons but always yearned to confess his sin when finally mastered courage to say “ I stand upon the spot where,seven years since, i should have stood;here, with this woman, whose arm, more than the little strength wherewith I have crept hitherward, sustains me,at this dreadful moment, from grovelling down upon my face!Lo, the scarlet letter which Hester wears!”(Hawthorne 233). Some people might argue that Dimmesdale was evil because he allowed Hester to go through her ignominy for seven years before confessing. Even if Dimmesdale had confessed earlier, it still wouldn’t had saved Hester from public disgrace. He had taken too long, but his courage to do it on the most important day of his life as a minister and also on the Puritan calendar means he is a good man who can’t deal with sin.

       As some might argue that dimmesdale is corrupt and evil because of his sin and the lengthy  time it took for him to confess, the number of lives he touched with his powerful sermons after his sin, his self induced punishment as a way of suffering with Hester, and finally his confession on the election day means he is a good man who can’t stand evil. His goodness is also shown in his forgiveness of Chillingworth. Dimmesdale prays to God to forgive Chillingworth his sins ,and this shows that Dimmesdale is a really good person. Hester and Dimmesdale’s sin will serve as a lesson for the Puritan society. It has come to set so many sinners free. Due to Dimmesdale’s sin , human happiness is easier to obtain than in the rigid rules of the Puritan society. These were people who didn’t have a voice or anyone to talk to, but for the people to finally know that a man as honourable as Rev Dimmesdale is capable of sinning has given hope to the helpless and has changed the Puritan perception of Righteousness for good.

                                 Besides being born in the same town and going to elementary school together, we spent a lot of time together often playing soccer running from house to house or despising  the cold hands that pushed us to the bus station every school year. Even at such a tender age , we had found companionship in each other and trust had  culminated as a result of so many years of spending time together. Even though these times were the best always , there were ones that we were certainly  proud of  and relished. It almost seemed like Fred filled the gap between myself and my older siblings in a way that he was considered the seventh member of the family. The times we spent together were  absolutely  unparalleled. We could be gone for two days and our parents would know where we were. This bond was special not only because we were great friends, but the events involved in our childhood had made it inevitable not to feel like brothers.

We took the first steps toward school and church together. Such a friendship showed no signs of rockiness until we experienced our own challenges and one that would eventually make it stronger.

       As strong as it may seem now, those times when our brotherhood took a nosedive are ones that would never be repeated or none of us would like to see again. Call it sin, blunder,err or how good it might sound in the ears of the listener, it is something that remains one of the worst decisions in my life. Fred and on a saturday after after enjoying a game of football at the park got into an argument which ended up in a fight.the argument increasingly heated up since no one was ready to swallow the silence pill. Everything would have gotten better still at this point bt unfortunately, we continued as we walked toward my house. I found offensive some words uttered by Fred my best friend of ten years which made me propose to him whether he is man enough to stop talking too much and engage me in a duel.  

     At this point, tension had risen to the extent that pride was at stake and refusal might thrash his confidence so much that he might never consider playing football with the boys in the neighbourhood again. We exchanged derogatory remarks about each other until it got to a point where my heart landed right it my palm. Fred took the first hit, but retaliation was never a responsible option. Something that will hurt me for so long and could have potentially ruined our friendship.

       It didn’t take long for us to realize that for once, we had been selfish even though we never wanted to go bed mad but rather stay up and fight. Even though this was one of our favorite lines, it wasn’t meant to be tested on each other. Fred’s disappointment in himself was noticeable even to a five year old who couldn’t wait to ask “ freddy, of all the people in the world why should it be mike”and this was when he was walking alone to church for the first time in many years.  These were people who couldn’t wait for our friendship to be squash on the floor like pieces of paper so they could dump it in the garbage. These were people who would use their last energy to dismantle the bond between us than try to convey that energy in separating us when we were about fighting.They couldn’t wait to ridicule our friendship right in front of us.  I wasnt disappointed more  in them than i was in myself. Neither was I in fred. Rather it felt like the world had come to an end for me when i felt I had let fred down by not walking away just to save the day. At least if the anger and pride that had entangled me like a fish caught up in a net wouldnt let me walk away,the sound of the sniffing noses of these jealous people should had  made me do it.

      It was now all gone and my anger had let me down. I walked almost everywhere face down. My skin felt like a trunk of wood tied to the back of my neck. We are still great friends now. Sometimes we argue those moments strengthened our friendship , but it is obvious during these conversations each one of us feels deeply embarrassed. I had said not less than a thousand sorries to Fred after the incident. Even now i still walk up to him just tell him sorry for let him down , and this is about ten years after the fight. It is something i’ll remember for the rest of my life. The shame and pain from that one incident with my best friend was enough to teach me more lessons that the ones I’ve learnt in school.

                  It was a bright sunny afternoon when I left Maine, a place I have been for the a year with many good friends and special times  which wouldn’t make me think twice if i had the opportunity to relive. There was no doubt it had been a challenging year. Staying for that long was the first time it happened in my life. I had to leave the good memories and the warmth of family to pursue my personal goals. On my way to Hebron Academy for the first time, the only thing i asked for was people who were hospitable and who would welcome me as one of their own. Fortunately enough i rather found a second family. I survived my first ever winter with a bunch of kids who would jump at any opportunity to play soccer. During this time i was made to believe i was the best player on the basketball team even though i barely made a basket. Darkness was inevitable during the season but i could see the light inside of my heart with the support of my new family.

        Then the spring came , and you could see kids playing on the park again with glowing faces. You met people who now lifted their heads and were now ready to say “goodmorning” with a smiley face. Not only was my inner being  bright this time , but the softness of the light from the sun made me admire nature all the more. I tried new things again. Everything had become perfect once more until I received a call one afternoon only to realize my Aunt had been involved in an accident.

 This news immediately swallowed all the joy of the past weeks of spring and spilled out sadness and a feeling of loneliness. I always wished i could reach my Aunt directly but school was right in the middle to cut my hand short of reaching her. This spelt more doom day in day out , but the warm affection by my friends and loved ones was enough to console me and give me hope in waiting for the summer. It was the first time a close relative had been indisposed.

    With my faith and support from friends holding pushing me day by day i woke up one morning and realized it was the end of the school year and i could see my family again. Summertime was here. These last days were as difficult as ever as i had to look straight into the eyes of my friends and say goodbye. As hard as it was, i was able to say a few goodbyes and set off for New Jersey. Even though the summer was beautiful, the thoughts of my friends kept popping up as i could erase all the good times i shared with these people in the past year. I endured a summer that tend to shape my life. I was proud of myself in the decisions i made and values i had learnt from them. Just about the time when school was about to resume and thoughts of how i was going to miss my old friends kept pounding my heart, a  miracle happened right in time. My Aunt felt better and i now had the opportunity to chose between my new and old school. It became a huge test for me as I had to face the authorities in my new school and tell the i’m going back. In the end i did it and couldn’t be more proud of myself.

Hope is the one thing people in the world desire to possess in abundance. In a world where so many things are going on and people tend to lose grip on the turn of events, everyone turns their  attention to finding hope as an inspiration to keep living. The Gatsby story and the Lance Armstrong story are both embedded in the well of lies yet people still thrive on them as a source of inspiration. It sounds a little bit discouraging that in a world where we are constantly campaigning for peace and tranquility people will draw inspiration from such circumstances. A closer look at it shows that, no one is to blame as the innate human  desire for power will not hesitate to grab onto any ideas that seem to satisfy its dreams. Gatsby is a man our times  and the strong belief in ambiguity helps us to understand him and the events in our world today.

                          Just like the American Dream, people are very much aware that that not everyone can become rich or successful in life, but a deep introspection suggests that is not what motivates the human being. Instead the hope that you will one day make it is what instigates the human hormones to function effectively whenever daylight resumes. People just want to keep trying. People want to believe that it shall all be well one day. Perhaps that is what the American Dream was founded on and not the belief that the millions of people living in the country can all become successful if they work hard. It is a myth to keep the people at bay. It is an engineered hope that has done its bit in driving a nation up the power ranks. The American Dream has surely done an overly exceptional force in carrying the entire people in the nation and in the world on its wings.

                   Jay Gatsby just like the founding fathers of America, did away with his ancestors and took charge of his own future. This is what drives the millions of people in the world who donot have the access to old money and yet desire the pleasantries it comes with. They just want hope, something to drive them and any story in this nature regardless of its background can surely cater for this desire.

                   With Lance Armstrong’s life in perspective, it is obvious that the people who still believe in his success do not want to do away with the hope they derived from his story. The ability to work hard and be successful is what people want to believe in. it might be right to say at this point that, most people don’t care about Jay Gatsby and Lance Armstrong’s personalities as much as the hope they desire from their lives. The world is filled with many golddiggers walking around looking for avenues to draw hope and anyone or anything which shows the potential of doing this job becomes a prey. Most people don’t care about how Lance Armstrong or Jay Gatsby became rich, all they care to know is they were once down and at one point they were up. There are different points of view in this world and the ability to dissect  a story into its  basic provides the ability to embrace what it truly offers.

            He shouted “David” as soon as he saw me come out of the car in the summer of 2013. He was my Dad’s closest brother and I wanted to spend my vacation with his family. They grew up together and attended the same school till college when they parted ways. Nature brought them back together when they were both assigned to the same station for their first real job. Not to say they had not been involved in any meaningful labor in the past, this was the first job that promised them the bright future they hoped for. My Uncle told me how much I’ve grown to look like my dad. If there was anyone to describe dad better, it was him. He had spent the longest time with him on earth. Dad would tell me a lot of interesting stories about their childhood even when Ii was barely four years old. He would tell me about their accomplishments on the soccer field and how they used to compete each other to see who did better at the end of every school year.  For a moment I was really surprised he could forget my name so quickly. He kept on calling me David for the rest of the day on my first day of vacation in his house.  

                       David is my dad  and he is no longer on the land of the living, but everyone who sets eyes on me now believe he didn’t die. Some think he is returning from a long vacation while others begin to ponder on the concept of reincarnation. We had great moments during the six  years we spent together and one of the most important things he thought me at an early age was the power of friendship and our responsibility to keep it safe. I remember holding hands with him and taking a long walk down the road. He told me stories and treated me like an adult. He always taught me deep secrets about life as though he knew he was nearing the end of his days. We took many steps together and maybe that was how I learnt to walk like him. Yes I walk like him. I talk like him.  I look like him and last time my mother confirmed  I write like him. We are just alike and maybe it could truly be the same person.

                       On the dinner table Uncle told me about almost everything I had heard when Daddy was alive and almost everything was the same. He told me things from how they nearly died in a car crash on a trip to Nigeria to how they almost won a national lottery. Either way, it was clear to me that they needed a little bit more luck during their youthful days;the luck that could have saved his brother from death’s feisty hands. Dinner was done and I continued my history class outside the house sitting under a shed where he sat with dad the very first day he moved into the house. It was nice to talk about him, but the darkness of the night and my constant imagination of the usual walk down the road with dad made me scared. He knew I was, but at that point it was clear he had needed someone all these years just to use the magic in storytelling to reunite with his brother. It was more of a petrifying night than one which was intended to reveal so much about the man i missed so much in my life. Moreso, most of the things he said i had already heard them.

                               Although I don’t remember vividly the stories dad told me because I was young, the images were imprinted in my brain and it will never fade away. I remember one day when we walking down the road on one of our numerous expeditions, dad told me about how they both nearly acquired a visa to travel to the United States. They worked for the entire time of their vacation and gathered a significant amount of money only to be dubbed by a visa connection man. I burst into laughter as dad told me. It seemed like one of the lowest points in his life considering their eagerness to travel to the United States for a better life. He squeezed my hand so hard that I stopped laughing and this was how I knew I had crossed the line. That instance always echoes in my heart even though he lived a life well deserved, he couldn’t accomplish some of his dreams and that is what makes my heart burn at the same time. Another of those accomplishments would have been a grand marriage blessing with my mom when my siblings and I were much older.

                                It was early December and Christmas was approaching. We went on one of our usual expeditions and this time around the story was about how he and my mom met. It was the summer of 1990 and they were both on vacation in Accra, Ghana. Before , he had admired mom from afar but didn’t have the impetus to approach her. He began attending random events with the hope she showed up. After a few unsuccessful spells, he acquired the services of a friend from one of his friends who was also friends with mom. The introduction was done and the rest is history. He told me how sparkling she was and how his friends envied him. She was beautiful, eloquent and confident. I began to realize the soft heart he had as he told me this story. I also learnt a moral that has guided me till this vacation trip.

                                 He realized the sudden discomfort in my demeanor and instantly offered to change location. It was now the turn of the fig tree beside his porch where he used to stand with dad to play darts. For most part of our time under the tree my mind wandered as he continued to tell the stories. His passion and the intensity of the story increased every second. After about thirty minutes of incessant stories,  it was time to retire to bed and he gave me a big hug as though I was my dad. It took me a while to come to terms with it, but when it eventually did, I didn’t want to let that feeling go. It’s the feeling of being the exact representation of dad, taking over from where he left off, the feeling of a great opportunity to step into the shoes of such a great man. My father and I are one.

The warm Caribbean gusts of wind ran through my hair, and my skin was frying underneath the intense sun. Three quarters of the way around us is turquoise water splashing onto rocks, and the other quarter is little local shops built into hillsides. Nowhere else could have been closer to heaven than in that moment, but all I could think about was the freezing cold of Maine. I wanted to be back to my familiar room, with my familiar schedule, doing what I do nine months out of the year. This interruption felt like a waste of time that I could be doing work. I could be studying, and I could be savoring the last four months with my friends. Instead I was burning my skin, getting seasick while I do homework on a ship, and being irked by my best friend. Ultimately this trip was just over forty absences and a nice view. These thoughts, while they had been brewing for days, were sprinting through my head at top speed while I boarded a bus to a beach with my mother.

Since, like a baby, I fall asleep whenever I am in a car, I dozed off resting my head on my mother’s shoulder. When I woke up from the lurch of the stopping bus, waking up in a worse mood than before. The thoughts of how useless this vacation is permeated the beautiful landscapes in front of me. My mom was taking pictures and meandering around, looking as touristy as possible. I thought about how at this same time I could be in class, not missing everything. My irritability continued to intensify and intensify and intensify until it boiled over. I exploded at my mom and all the thoughts that I have had over the past four days came spilling out of my mouth like vomit. I felt relieved as I expressed my dislike for the situation. However, as I felt like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders, my mom’s smile disappeared and her eyes saddened. Even though my biggest fear is disappointing my mother, I did not register this change in her attitude, my own joy overshining the sadness of my best friend.

It was only until ten minutes later, when I got out of my sleep-induced anger, that I realized my impact. My mom wandered listlessly around the exquisite landscape. My mom and I have a unique relationship. We are more of sisters than we are mother and daughter. While I was young she was constantly working, but I thought she never wanted to see me. Now I know that was not true. After the divorce we got extremely close. We helped each other, trying to fill in the empty holes that were left. I knew on the trip her only goal was to spend more than two hours with me, and I made it miserable. I had gotten upset before on the trip, and we always talked it out. This time felt different.

I slowly walked back over to her, approaching as if I were encountering a wild animal, uncertain of what could happen. She ignored my advancement and continued her snapping of pictures. I knew all I had to do was apologize sincerely, explain what I did, and give her a hug. This was a foolproof way of fixing whatever wrong I created. For some reason I could not bring myself to apologize for my being miserable; it was not something that I did wrong or made a mistake in. However, I knew if I said nothing, if I continued this unnecessary, meaningless disagreement, everything would be worse. Stuffing my pride back into the giant box it came from, I put my arms around her and rested my head on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”

I was uncertain. It became a torturous drive, miles and miles from the city with trees as far as the eye could see. From what I could tell, it was essentially Maine transported into upstate New York. It was the opposite of where I originally thought I wanted to be. The twisting, treacherous roads led to what seems like directly into the side of a mountain. Even the roads in downtown were twisted and complex. I couldn’t begin to pronounce Poughkeepsie. I had never heard of Marist, and the prospect of being a Red Fox seemed underwhelming. It was certainly not my first choice, but my mom pushed me to at least tour. Give it a chance. See different schools. To be brutally honest, I just wanted to go home.

I slowly rolled through the parking lot, hunting for a spot to park. After ten long minutes of searching, and fifteen longer minutes of walking to the admissions building, we signed in to a sickly sweet, smiley volunteer college student. Receiving a hefty packet and a small, flashy red stress ball, we waited in the entrance with dozens of other families, my competition all consulting their pamphlets. Finally ushered into a cramped presentation room full to the brim, we all suffered through the same information session everyone has at every college in the summer. Recommended SAT/ACT scores, tuition, study abroad options. Admission dates, extracurriculars, campus life. Despite all of the similarities between the topics, something felt strangely different and new. I didn’t comprehend this distinction until later.

The transition from cool air conditioning to suffocating heat when we opened the double-doors was shocking. Eighty-two degrees with high humidity on the Hudson river is not the best condition for a whole-campus tour. Even though it was painful in the beginning, eventually, after walking around the campus, I did not care. The enormous quad overlooking the river with perfectly trimmed, impeccable green grass took my attention. The buildings evenly scattered were both modern and still had their own character. The illustrious Red Fox was painted in the middle of every field and on every telephone pole was They say that when you find the place you want to be you “just know”. It’s indescribable. I could picture myself in the chemistry lab, in the dorms, and everywhere inbetween. Immediately I felt at home: home in the sprawling campus, home in the small, college town feel I grew up in. The more we toured, the more of the campus we saw, even the small, insignificant details I learned about the school made me fall in love with it. These moments leading up to when we left, in that fifteen minute walk back to the car, I realized high school, while not over, was coming to a close. I thought of the friends and teachers whom I won’t see everyday after this year and the next. Soon I was not going to be a Lumberjack anymore.

I couldn’t stay at Hebron forever, and I knew what I wanted to be when I left my home of seven years. I wanted to be a Red Fox no matter how underwhelming.

And the summer was over.

 I roll the window down and the cool breeze catches in my hair. We’re driving home and the road is deserted. We haven’t passed a car in a while, so I turn the radio up and rest my chin on my arm in the window. I close my eyes and breathe in the country surroundings, the smell of an oncoming storm and fresh soil drift over me. As I open my eyes I look into the woods we’re driving through; they are dark and are coated with a thick fog sitting heavily on the mossy floor. I can hear owls perched in trees cooing into the night. As the moonlight descends on the lake beside us, a soft melody flows from the speakers. It’s a song about love and lost time. I let the lyrics wash over me as I watch the world fly by my window.

     I start to think about memories from throughout the years. My fourth birthday, my first day of school, it all starts flashing in time with the trees. The memories keep coming, up until this moment. This moment, when I begin to think about the future.

    I have a sudden flash of an empty room that I use to call mine and boxes in an unfamiliar place. I see my mom crying as she gets in the car to drive away, and right then it dawns on me that in a few more years I will be alone in a place that’s not my home. The memories begin to flash again, now painful to watch.

    My mom waking me up at 6:15 every year on my birthday, blinding me with her camera. I see myself, waiting as long as I possibly could until I ran into her room on Christmas morning and dragged her out of bed. My mom greeting me every morning with a smile and a kiss to the forehead while the babies played. It all hits me so hard I can’t breath. Never again will I have any of that. Once I leave, everything will change. Phone calls instead of hugs. Birthday cards in the mail instead of the traditional morning wake up. How can I be content knowing this is all changing?

    One day I’ll have a job and a family of my own. My childhood will be long behind me, a distant past to look back on and smile about, but in this moment, I don’t want to look back. I want time. I want more than the years we’re given to be with our family. I want to enjoy my youth, relish in the carelessness it brings and the time to spend with the ones I love. Why can’t I press pause, just for a little while?

    We are forced to grow up and mature so quickly we never think to stop and take a break, to really appreciate everything our childhood and family has to offer. We all have a short amount of time on earth. One day our family will be gone and we will be left thinking back and regretting not spending more time with them. We will regret choosing the friends that eventually became strangers instead of family game night. We will regret not cherishing the little moments that can mean so much just because we weren’t in the mood and would rather be anywhere else. I remember missing my sisters first real crawl because I insisted that I needed a break from all the noise and frustration, I ended up staying with a friend that night and coming home to find out the momentous step I had missed and can never get back.

     As I think about this I can feel my chest tighten and my eyes beginning to sting. I squeeze them shut to keep it all in then stare back up at the moon. I can hear the babies sleeping in the backseat and I smile to myself as my mom sings along with radio. These are the moments I want to remember, the little moments that fill me with joy and hope. I’m leaving soon and that devastates me, so I tend to push the thoughts away and focus on the now, because weather or not I’m ready for adulthood it’s here and I need to come to terms with it.

     The lake is gone and is now replaced by long pastures with grazing horses. The world is eerily quiet as we pass through a tunnel made of trees stretching across the road. My mom grabs my hand and points at the canopy above.”Make a wish,” she whispers, smiling at me. And just before the tunnel ends, I whisper my wish into the wind letting it float along the breeze into the waiting night.

It’s all so intense isn’t it?

The sun was just setting, its golden hues flashing a grand goodbye, and a moment after that last bit of light blinked out of existence, I was engulfed in darkness. I stand in the spot I’ve occupied for the last ten minutes, staring into the abyss before me. I look on as the white foam rises along the shoreline, tangling with the seaweed.

As I watch the waves get more intense as they stretch up to greet the moon, I realize my inner turmoil rises and falls in time with the cooling waters. After one last gaze at the raging beauty of the world, I slowly lie down and sink into the wet sand.

Though I can no longer see the waves, their magical song rings in my ears and dance behind my closed eyes. The sad lullaby wraps around my heart painfully.

There are so many unknowns in a world that demands answers. We are taught to decide a Future for ourselves by the time we are only just beginning to live. I yearn for freedom and knowledge, the kind you get when you meet more people you can count. Hear more stories than you thought existed. I want to capture what I see, write what I learn. There are so many people in this world, with so many different lives. What would it be like to get a glimpse of them?

My heart wants to be full of the beauty we take for granted. I want to travel until I can no longer think of another destination to see, then I want to settle down and have a family.

But I can’t do that can I?

In a world like ours we need money. Stability for our family. Funds to see what God gave us for free. We have to go to college to get a decent job. There are so many rules, so many restrictions, on how we can live.

The tide has risen. The salty water is creeping up and over my feet but I just look up. The moon is luminous in its place against the black canvas. More stars than I’ve seen in years gleam above me, twinkling a hello to my sad eyes.

I feel infinitesimally small in a universe so great. I am but a dot in the timeline of the world. My story will be untold, eventually forgotten, but I will live on. Through the wind and the water, through the dirt and the trees. I am but a small piece in a puzzle more Grand.

My lips form a smile as a warm feeling grows around my heart. I have no answers, just the ramblings of a lost soul, but I feel as though I have stumbled upon something significant. I breath in the scenery above me as I am encompassed by the night. The unknown shouldn’t be scary. It should be welcomed. I don’t have a clue as to what my life holds, but isn’t that the point? We are all fish in a river that has one destination. Should we not allow it to guide us? Should we not live as much as we can and as hard as our hearts allow?

We are born to die. It’s the sad fact of life, but it is what it is. So why do we choose to sit in offices while there is a life giving sun and cool breezes on the other side of the wall? We take the world for granted by abusing it instead of using it. Only the lucky few who truly see, Live.

That warm feeling grows and expands out into the sky, giving me a present. The star flies above me, we are but two beings on our own course. One about to land, and the other just now taking off.

 There was a thick, heavy silence enveloping the small town. Typically bursting with noise and life, there was now a somberness laced within the streets. Even the sky held an eeriness to it, with dark clouds threatening to burst with every clash of thunder.

       I close my eyes and breath in the familiar surroundings for the last time, my heart torn between the new adventure awaiting me and the home that changed me. As I say goodbye, I sit on the roof of the announcer’s box to our little baseball field, like I had nearly a year before. I think back to that night, it was my first day in this new dusty little town and I was upset, to say the least.

      I’ve always loved moving, ever since I can remember I’ve enjoyed seeing new places and bouncing from town to town. My mom says I have a gypsy’s soul, maybe that’s why I didn’t want to move to a town with less than 500 people and had a curfew. There was no adventure, no change or diversity. You see one part of Oklahoma you’ve seen it all. I wanted to go somewhere new and I ended up back where I started.

      I hated it there, for a while, until one day I got so bored that I decided I wanted to waitress at our cafe. I thought for sure I would mess up by tripping or being to shy, but my first day at work I had multiple people asking me if I was the famous Dawn Kibbes daughter and heard stories of my mom’s wild days. As the year went on I got to know the regulars, I’d sit with them and have a coffee while listening to their stories, how they got here, if they felt fulfilled, and got advice on how to truly live.

       Every afternoon I got to know more of the town’s history and more about the people within it. The whole town knew my family like I never did, so when I ate dinner with my boss after closing I would ask her to tell me stories. After so many years I was finally given a background, I have roots and connections, and I eventually got a town’s worth of a family.

      It was completely against my will, but I became a part of the town. It changed me. The people changed me. My Papa taught me how to drive a tractor and showed me the proper ways to gamble. My friends introduced me to walks at midnight through the pastures and cornfields. And my boss, Jane, she changed my outlook on life. She was so strong and was always smiling and bickering with the customers. She had cancer that spread to her whole body but she never once let it stop her, even through the Chemo and countless medications, she was one of the liveliest people I’ve ever met. She always encouraged me to follow my dreams and was the first person I told when I decided to go to Hebron. I only knew her a year and yet she was the hardest to say goodbye to, and a month after starting Hebron my grandma called to tell me she had passed away.

     My town helped make me who I am. I will never forget the people I met or the stories they shared, and I will always carry them in my heart no matter where I go. They taught me to try new things, to speak up and be more confident. I learned what it’s like to have an unlimited amount of people who care about you and support you no matter what.

     So, as I take my last look at the deserted town, I silently thank it for giving me everything I didn’t know I needed. I smile, look up at the Oklahoma sky, and breath in the smell of my home, my favorite smell, sun, farm, and smoke from the grill. I jump down onto the stairs and slowly make my way to the waiting car, ready for my next adventure.