28th March, 20??
Flashcards.
Dear Dia,
Today wasn't that interesting… or perhaps I just want to subtly land the blow that I'm writing this entry this late because I had spent my day with… someone.
The night after the truce, I slept well for someone who hadn't been sure she did the right thing. But waking up today, I was only allowed a moment before the memories came crashing. The truce. Henry. Our conversation. Being grounded. My hunger strike. It all came rushing in like fluttering my eyes open had unlocked whatever door holding them at bay.
The regret should have hit me fresh but for some reason, it didn't feel like that. It felt strange… like it hadn't been me who said and did all those things the previous night. I had to stare myself down in the mirror for some minutes wondering if there was another being underneath the self that stared back at me.
What am I saying? There was once a time when I had been like that. Easy. Kind. Good. Funny and even soft. That was before mom's death when I had friends enough to crowd our sitting room during a visit. Even as a junior, I had been popular. I wore the latest trends. Styled my hair like a celebrity. Befriended and mingled like a popstar. It was all mom, she had said her daughter shouldn't be basic especially when I was so much more.
The same way they liked her, the same it was for me. We were a powerful duo… until life came knocking.
Group by group, my circle of friends dropped. With her hospitalized, I didn't have time to check for the latest trends. No one to braid or style my hair. And my social skills took a trip down the steep hills of descent. I became a shadow of whom I used to be. People, who once dined in our house stayed away like what mom had was infectious. I noticed their uneasiness when they visited, how eager they were to leave, how they fidgeted like they would rather be anywhere than near her. Most times I wonder if they would have visited at all, if it weren't for the whims of society.
With mom's illness and my newly acquired attitude, I sooner became a wallflower than one could say John. After her death, I was utterly alone except for Diane who stuck with me until… my attitude became insufferable.
There are a lot of platitudes about friends. How they stay when all is well and leave when it gets tough but I find the one by Oprah Winfrey most appealing, she said,
"Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down."
Her description of a friend had been what I needed until humans proved to me they are two-faced bitches. It wasn't about my attitude, it wasn't about what I was going through. They should have stayed through it all, why ride in the limo and disappear when it's time to enter the bus because the limo broke down. Like a good poet, Terres Michael once wrote in his "Songs of Scarlet and Ashes – collection"
"Don't leave when
I become cruel
When life turns me
Into a monster
Stay with me
Be the yin to my yang
Tone down my harshness
With your kind words
Be the light to guide me
Out of this darkness."
The title of the poem is " Stay" and those words were exactly what I wanted my supposed friends to do. They should have stayed with my attitude, my luggage… and all but they left.
After mom's death revealed the true faces of those I saw as friends. I built my walls. Strong, fortified and formidable. Laced around it were thorns and spikes so no one could ever get close. So I could never feel like that ever again. Deserted. Alone. Desolated. But that was until last night, when I had allowed my defenses down and Henry climbed my walls.
Almost slapping myself, I roused from the bed, performed my morning rituals and made my way downstairs. I had allowed a lot of shit the day before but not today. There was no way I was starving myself to get dad's pity.
That shit had been pathetic… and hell if I ever tried it again.
With my cold-bitch face on, I entered the kitchen not offering anyone a glance. Henry had raised his hand as a greeting, dad had perked up and Felicia said good morning but this bitch didn't care.
The hurt that framed Henry's face when I snubbed him had been enough to make me regret it but I had been doing this for a long time to allow that uproot me.
After having two mugs of coffee exactly how I liked it, creamy with a pint of honey. I took my tray of chocolate and melted butter topping pancakes (Felicia still hasn't taken the hint, she knew that was how I loved my pancakes. I wouldn't even be surprised if she had made the breakfast just for me, perhaps loose lips Henry told her about last night. Humans! how predictable) and glass of orange juice to my room. But not without hearing dad's voice calling behind me as I ascended the stairs,
"Oh, so that's what we are doing now, you come downstairs and pretend we lot are invisible. Not offering anyone as much as a glance. Great!- keep it up young lady and you might stay grounded forever…"
I merely smiled at that before slamming my door so hard that it momentarily stunned him silent and faded his voice away as he raged on and on afterwards.
I had thought he would deny me breakfast but I guess my hunger strike really got to him. After that sumptuous breakfast, I made to read one of the English novels for my English quiz coming up next week when the envelope emptied it's contents to the wooden floor.
It had been underneath the novel in question, laying on the shelf of my right bedside drawer. I had forgotten about it, with mom's letter carefully tucked between your pages, Dia, I had forgotten about the flashcards she had written about.
Scattered across the wooden floor in hues of pink, red, blue and green, laid the flashcards. Bending down to retrieve them, I discovered that they were sixteen in number. How like mom to make them that number. I must say even in death, she's still that perfect person I knew.
Sitting there on the polished wooden floor, I read,
#1. Sweet Sixteen is the age to be
YOU, my dearest Anna.
#2. Sweet Sixteen is a time to be
kind and help others in need.
#3. Sweet Sixteen is a time to
appreciate the people around
you and the life you live.
#4. Sweet Sixteen is a time to
embrace the freedom of
adulthood.
#5. Sweet Sixteen is a time to be
confident and trust your
instincts.
#6. Sweet Sixteen is a time to be
reflective and appreciate all
you have.
#7. Sweet Sixteen is a time to
cherish the moments and
make memories.
#8. Sweet Sixteen is a time to be
thankful for the opportunities
you've been given.
#9. Sweet Sixteen is a time to be
free and explore the world.
#10. Sweet Sixteen is a time to be
kind and make a difference
in the world.
#11. Sweet Sixteen is a time to be
resilient and overcome any
obstacle.
#12. Sweet Sixteen is a time to be
understanding and show
compassion.
#13. Sweet Sixteen is a time to be
ambitious and strive for
greatness.
#14. Sweet Sixteen is your
opportunity to make new
friends and create long
lasting relationships.
#15. Sweet Sixteen is a time to be
thankful for lessons you've
learned and the experiences
too.
The last flashcard had been written on the front and back and it was the one that struck me most.
#16. Sweet Sixteen can only be
sweet if you make it so, my
dearest. Never mind these
flashcards, I know they might
seem a bit controlling but you
must understand it pains me
that I won't be there and this is
my own way of ensuring that
I'm a part of this your new age.
I think I stayed there, staring at her words for hours. Unable to shake out that suppressing feeling that her presence would've been better appreciated. And that engulfing feeling that even though she isn't, she had tried to be in any way possible.
I had been wrong about her not fighting. About giving up easily, because she didn't. I'm sure she would have moved the heavens and earth to be with me. It had taken guts for her to accept her fate and do these things for me. My dearest mom even in death, still assures me of her love for me.
Emotions washed over me, goosebumps spread all over me as I reflected on her words. I felt ashamed because I wasn't any of these things, she wanted me to be. I wasn't kind. I wasn't compassionate. I wasn't appreciative, I was just the opposite of everything she needed me to be.
Even in her letter where she told me that I must have grown to be the beautiful, smart and amazing young lady she knew I was, was a stark reminder that I hadn't. If she was watching, I knew her gold curls would be bouncing as she shook her head in disapproval.
I cried there and then, curled up on my side with the flashcards to my heart. I made her a promise, to do better, be better and make her proud because I knew she would be listening.
Even now as I write, my heart still echoes the promises I made to her. I had tried to make good on it by giving Henry a chance like she wrote on flashcard#14.
I had dozed off on the hard floor still clutching her words with my tears dry and visible on my face. It was a Friday, so Henry had gone to school. His knock had awoken me as he came to hand me notes and assignments, he collected from Michelle.
The gesture had fueled my guilt and I spent the next thirty minutes, apologizing to him and promising to make it up to him.
That's why I'm writing this late because I had spent the day with him, playing video games, watching movies and listening as he talked about himself. Honestly, the dude isn't that bad and I would love to tell you about him but unfortunately that won't be today.
It's almost 12am, so I must go to bed soon. Till later, toodles, Dia.