Lake Frances

The tree beside me was of great height, and the aroma it left lingering in the air was of sweet pine. Its thick umber trunk, perfectly cracked throughout, was reaching as high into the cloudless sky above it, as its roots dug into the earth below. The stiff shadows the pine needles were leaving on the rust colored dirt seemed idle next to the playful fluttering of the emerald oak leaves, belonging to the tree neighboring the great pine. I glanced upward for a moment and my eyes took in thousands of enchanting trees such as these, surrounding the shimmering surface of the lake.
The titian colored sun, although almost ready to retire from a long day, sought me out amongst the trees. I reached up and wiped my forehead, wet with perspiration. A salty drop escaped, rolling down my nose; dropping off the tip, onto my top lip. I remedied the tickling wetness with a swift move from my parched eager tongue.
At the familiar obnoxious sound of geese honking, I raised my head to the manmade mass of water again, and couldn't help mut admire the luster, alluring in its silvery state, as the sun created tiny shadows against each ripple on the water. The geese now, were swimming in several fan shaped patterns. Their caramel colored bellies with grey and tan top feathers, glistened with the help of the tiny water droplets clinging to their bodies. I envied the geese current aquatic privileges and wished even more that the two old fishermen, sipping cold beer and clearing their old raspy throats next to me, would find another place to catch and release. But when my winged friends became aware of the company they had waiting on the shore, they turned their quick bodies the oposite direction and paddled away.
The wind, bringing a delightful coolness with it, traveled through the trees towards me. It then reached me, taking time to caress my warm skin with a feather-like touch. I took this time to breathe in the new air that the wind brought with it, and the overwhelming smell of someone's bar-b-que filled my senses. I could feel my stomach growing tighter at the thought of food. My moments of quiet observation at Lake Frances were over.

Road Trip

The fifteen seater van , if viewed at this moment could be seen barreling down the freeway at top speed. If one was curious enough to peer through the van windows, one would be convinced the vehicle was headed to the nearest asylum, but the van contained me and my large italian family on one of our cross country road trips. The contagious madness inside the van only grew with each state we passed..
I still don't understand why he did what he did, but my father gave six children the authority to remove our seatbelts early on in the trip. So the chaos was not the ordinary seat-belt contained chaos that normally occures with children in cars. We were, at our release, the motherload! All at once, we became crazed with the unexpected freedom. Bodies tumbled, screams let out, and feet of every size were flying over the seats, bodies attached helplessly to them. It seems as though I can still feel the wind through my hair, as my brothers tossed me from one seat to another.
After awhile, our bodies needed somewhat of a rest, so we resorted to performing for the passing spectators in their own vehicles. My three brothers managed to stuff nearly every hole in their heads with straws and toilet paper, hoping to leave the onlookers with the impression that we might be a herd of insane walrus's. As we pressed our heads against the windows, the reactions we recieved were always dramatic, and some drivers even looked frightened; and with that, we were quite pleased with ourselves.
I find myself recalling adventures like these in my childhood quite often. My brothers and sisters have provided so many treasured memories for me to daydream about during my journey through life, bringing a comfort and peaceful calm to my soul. I also recall everything we have gone through together; the good and the bad. Each trial or hardship, along with memories like the latter, have only made us stronger and better equipped to endure what life has brought, and continues to bring our way. My siblings taught me the importance of unconditional love and closeness in family relationships at a pivitel time in my life. I needed Gabriel, Micah, Anna, Wendy, and Eddie each day as I was growing up, and am truly blessed to have their influence be apart of each day I am given.

A Returning

Sitting in the corner of a large, old, worn-out kitchen floor was a small girl. She was intently staring across the room at the kitchen door knob, waiting for the creak when it would turn. The girl, when she spent these times in her corner, become dis joined from the world around her and was consumed with another world that only she went to, in this corner.
The expression on the young child's face was one of apprehension and innocence, yet the child's eyes held a disturbing amount of concern for one of only age six. The concern in her eyes turned to a dangerous bitterness as she caught a tear sliding down her cheek, with the back of a small chubby hand. Her other hand then raked her dark brown bangs away from her furrowed brow, then fell down to her mouth as she then sucked on her thumb. The girl squinted her hazed almond-shaped eyes and tried not dwell on the thoughts that always invaded her mind while in the corner.
Her mind began the battle with itself as it did every time she waited in the corner. Did she want her father to return to her, despite her resentment and fears? Or would she even care if never again was she to see his face through the stained glass of the kitchen door? At these thoughts, her heart felt strangely heavy, as if being weighed down with a rock. Tears sprung to her eyes again, and she was angry at herself for giving in to how she felt. And even more angry because she now knew that even against every fiber of her being, the verity of the matter was that she did long for the return of her anticipated, and his presence did matter in her life.
The girl gathered her blanket close to her face. The familiar smell always calmed her soul. She ran her tiny fingers over the blue and yellow checks on her blanket. She pulled her knees tightly against her chest and fastened her arms around them.
The girl drew her head upward at the first sound of heavy footsteps on the brick pathway outside.

Domestic Violence

The ropes of death surrounded me;
the floods of destruction swept over me,
The grave wrapped its ropes around me;
death itself stared me in the face.
But in my distress I cried out to the LORD;
yes, I prayed to my God for help.
He heard me from his sanctuary;
my cry reached his ears.

Psalm 18:4-6

Somehow, she was released from his grasp and the painful attack; her instincts for survival grabbed hold of her instead. Although racked with pain, she frantically made her way toward the front door inside of their apartment, like a fawn escaping a leopard. Her back to her husband now, the fear cut into her like a cold knife. She was sick to her stomach, and felt crazed with desperation. Escaping him was always hard, and if he caught her, he was then only more enraged.
She found herself running in the night with the wet winter air cold and unwelcoming. Her bare feet hurt as they pounded against the freezing pavement. The sound of his angry slander coming from the house was a relief; it meant she had enough time to hide. Sometimes she wasn’t so lucky. Finding a crevice to slip into, she crammed herself behind an air conditioning unit attached to another apartment, by a nearby fence. The box, and some lingering night shadows’ disguised her small frame perfectly.
In moments, his dark frame appeared around the corner. She caught her breathe, not making a sound. His strides were long, and his boots sounded with an evil purpose. He gripped the heavy metal bar at his side. Her eyes took in his horrific weapon, and like a child scolded not to cry, she held back her tears. She began praying without making one audible word, please, don’t find me, please, don’t find me, she ran the words over and over in her brain, until she opened one of her closed eyes, and he wasn’t anywhere she looked.
Her heart beat, painful with every thud. She knew she was probably only waiting to be found by him, to be terrorized again, but she always knew their was a chance he might give up his game, and pass out with his last shot of Wild Turkey Liquor. After sitting for a moment, the fiery pain afflicting her body, set in even more. Her elbow was spotted with blood, but the large bruise already forming over the circumference of her elbow was excruciating. She was bruised in her side where she was pushed into the refrigerator, and the back of her head held a dull ache from being shoved into the wall by a strong hand.
She was angry at herself every time she let her husband do this to her, but at the time, she felt helpless. She didn’t know why she felt so paralyzed when she should be trying harder to stand up for herself and her rights as a wife, mother, and more importantly human being. She would be the first to admit she was ruled by fear, and she didn’t know why. She wanted to run, and felt as if she was given no legs. When he dangled her life before her, she was putty in his hands, just as he liked it, and for some strange reason, she had grown to accept that.