Six word memoir

Change: California

            The disgust and anger weighed me down, making me sink to the bottom of the lake. Thoughts escaped through my ears, causing bubbles to rise to the top of chilled water. Anticipation flowed through my veins. It was thick, making my heart work harder. Worries overwhelmed me; they pounded in my chest rhythmically with my heart. Who was this person I called Aunt Julie? I’ve met her twice in my life and now I’m going to spend an entire two weeks with her in California. I need this though. I needed to get away from home before the resentment and hate towards him replaced all of my happiness. His selfishness was ripping our family apart, and it had no effect on him. I told myself repeatedly that I would push those thoughts to the back of my mind for this entire vacation.

            On the night that we flew in the weather decided to create one of the worst storms California has had in over ten years. Just our luck. As the tiny plane tumbled back in forth, my mother squeezed my hand until the circulation was cut off. I lost myself in the hum of the engine and created a force field around the airplane. I imagined blowing bubbles towards the plane, one of them engulfing it, protecting it and everyone inside from harm.

            Once we got back to her house we lugged out suitcases up to our room then headed down to the bath house. The bath house was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It was pretty much an old sacred spa. Tiny rooms for mud baths filled the structure, and in the middle was a massive pool full of natural spring water. The unbearable stench of sulfur filled the room, but I forgot all about it once I stepped into the scolding hot water. I could feel the minerals going to work instantly, peeling off the dead skin and exfoliating it until it was silky smooth. I gazed up at the full moon through the glass ceiling as I floated on my back and listened to my aunt talk.

            “People from all around the world would come to this bath house to be healed. There are sacred spirits all around us here.” The excitement was wild in her eyes as she shared the somewhat eerie history of the property she lived on.

            A Reiki healer came to the bath house that night to enjoy the positive energy of the property. She showed us her varied assortments of pendulums. Chrystal ones, bronze ones, and rock ones. I tried out a bronze one, hovering it over my forefinger, becoming ecstatic when it swirled immediately and showed which way my positive energy flowed.

            “Wow, I’ve never seen anyone get it to work that fast. I think that you are meant to have that one.” The healer said stunned.

            “Thank you so much.” I said appreciatively.

My eyes opened that day. Everything changed. All the way from my interests and the way my brain processed thoughts. I let all of the resentment flow away, replacing it with knowledge of healing and positivity.

            The next morning I woke up to George the parrot tapping his beak against our window, and Princess purring in my ear. I stumbled downstairs half asleep and heard my aunt singing to the group of animals assembled in the kitchen. A sigh of relief escaped and a smile overcame me. We definitely shared the same bloodline.

            “Scurry upstairs and get on your hiking shoes! We’re going to Monorea Bay today!” she exclaimed enthusiastically.

            My jaw dropped to the sand once I saw the amazing scenery. Miles and miles of ocean, mountains towering in the clouds, and flocks of birds drifting freely in the air. After hours of hiking the humid air blended with the stickiness of my sweaty face.  I jumped off a low cliff into the icy cold water. Instead of sinking to the bottom, I floated to the top. The anger no longer filled my bones. Bliss filled them instead, leaving them airy.

           

My Name: Who?

            My name is the vibrant orange like the color of an evening sunset. It is the sound of Tootsie purring in my ear, and Tiger cozied up at the edge of the fleece blanket as I drift to sleep. My name is the sweet aroma of french toast and smoky links sizzling on the stove top every Sunday morning. It’s the adrenaline rushing through my veins as my brother and I sprint through the woods, dodging the trees as we go. My name is the breathlessness I get from hauling logs to the newly built fort. It’s the exhilarating thrill of climbing the cedar trees, feeling freer with every branch I pull myself onto. It is the itchiness of the hay bails as I explore my castle every Saturday afternoon. In Scandinavian my name means heroic and brave. In Old English it simply means hay meadow.

            If you are an elementary school peer you would call me Hairy Buttlick. If you are my mother or father you would call me Bean. If you’re my softball coach you would just call me Budnik. If you are someone I just met you would mistake my name for Kaley or Holly.

            My name is simple. It is simple spelling and a simple five letters. Sometimes I sign my name as Haylee on the upper right corner of my worksheet. And sometimes if I’m feeling bold I introduce myself as Samantha or what other name I feel is magnificent at the time.

            My name is the echo of laughter as I am teased. It is the taunting from my brother as he tells me chilling boogey man stories. It’s the raspy voice of my grandmother as we sing playmate together on every car ride in her dark green Cadillac. My name is the good-humored voice of my father as we prepare an evening meal together.  It is the soft voice of my mother whispering “wakeup sweetie, it’s time to get ready for school.”

            I imagine my name blending among the others. Swirling together, creating a dull hazel brown. It is not prominent of memorable. Each day it sinks deeper into the vast sea, becoming forgotten. It crawls further into the gloomy forest each night. The vibrant orange gradually fades to a murky black, until it eventually becomes meaningless.

Boundaries: There Are No Boundaries Here

            The icy wind whips through my hair, turning it to knots. The cold turns my nose and cheeks a rosy red that glows like when my grandmother pinches them too hard after being reunited. The blue birds and robins perch among the branches as they sing their love songs to the world. The sound of crickets rubbing their legs together reminds me that I am completely alone here, in the deepest part of the forest.

            “Caacaww!” I below out at the top of my lungs. The black birds swarm from the trees , startled by the unexpected holler. The wind whispers his sad story of sorrows in my ear as I admire the flock birds twisting around the sky.

            I stroll through the woods, leaping over fallen logs and dodging sticky spider webs between the undergrowth. I pass the oddly shaped “K” tree and a massive gray boulder. Another left and I would be at the lily pad filled pond. Something I’ve memorized after years of child hood adventures here. The earth spins at almost one thousand and thirty eight miles per hour but is frozen when I’m here. Water trickles down each leaf, leaving me mesmerized and turned to stone. The commotion from each day fades away, leaving me with nothing but blank thoughts and deep breathes.

            “I worry about you when you’re still out after dark,” my mother’s voice echoes.

            “Okay, I promise I’ll be home before the sunset this time.”

            I know I should hurry back but the crunch of the leaves beneath my feet taunt me.

            With every step they murmur, “Stay longer and explore more. Your mom won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late.”

            I give into their persuasive arguments and scurry up my favorite maple tree to catch a glimpse of the energetic sunset, challenging myself to climb higher than ever before. I’m no longer me as I sit in this tower of bark and leaves. I gradually contort into one of the dull yellow leaves dangling from the branches. I become the furry brown caterpillar crawling up the rough bark. I’m the foot print trail left behind in the mud by deer and other wild creatures.  This is my home and my serenity. Here I am nothing but free. 

Candy And Me: My Taste-buds Are Tingling

Christmas Cookie Dough

            My eyes are locked on the white and lavender hello kitty alarm clock, watching the slowly changing number. Victoria and I are counting down the everlasting minutes until her parents go to bed. I’m practically drooling while I anticipate how the salty dough will taste when it’s crumbling around my teeth. Listening to her tell me what she asked for Christmas is hard to concentrate on when the word cookies scatters through every crevasse of my brain.

            “I also I asked for a new polly pocket, and Barbie dreamhouse.” She rambles.

            “Mhm. Yeah, sounds cool.” I casually mumble back.

            Finally, we hear the slight sound of snoring coming from her parent’s room. The conversation silences and we glance at each other simultaneously with excitement wild in our eyes. We tiptoe down the edge of the stairs and silently creep through the kitchen. When the freezer opens I can pretty much hear the angels sing and I swear there’s a glowing halo around the fifty two pack of sugar cookie dough. Now the drool really starts flowing.

            Each bite turns to creamy dough that melts on my tongue. The reindeer shaped dough is prancing through my mouth like it would through the night sky on Christmas Eve.  The sweet and salty dough is bittersweet and the adrenaline of knowing we could get caught at any moment makes the entire experience exhilarating. We both know that to keep our adventure a secret we should limit ourselves to two cookies each. But punishment for dough this good is worth it.

            Twelve cookies later and we’re back upstairs with a gurgling stomach. Somehow we still manage to be excited for next year’s supply of cookie dough, even with this nauseating stomach pain.

Barbeque Chicken

I couldn’t leave my grandma’s house without begging her to make her famous barbeque chicken. I loved being her little helper with every meal she made. Using a butter knife to cut vegetables got me nowhere, but I wasn’t old enough to be trusted with a real knife. I would sit in front of the oven the entire time the chicken baked, inhaling the tangy aroma with every breath. 

            I always got to bring home an extra piece to eat for dinner. Carrying it home was always challenging though. There was never anything left of the juicy drumstick by time I walked the two hundred foot distance between our houses. I would devour it before I even stepped foot out of her driveway. I treasured every moment of licking the succulent sauce off my sticky fingers the whole way home.

            I don’t know anyone who didn’t love that sweet crispy chicken. Unfortunately dogs loved it too. I was so tangled up in my barbeque dreamland that I didn’t have time to react to the large black lab darting towards me.

“Toby stop! Come! Now!” the owner frantically yelled. I was left breathless like a deer caught in the headlights. I wasn’t able to hear myself think over the sound of my heart thumping out of my chest.  One moment I’m daydreaming in heaven, and the next moment there’s a ferocious beast attacking me. I couldn’t think fast enough to react, so I contorted myself into the fetus position, thinking that if I was small enough, I would just disappear. But I had no such luck.  Three stitches later I was back home in bed gnawing on a large piece of chicken breast to distract me from the throbbing pain in my right ankle.

Nutella

            I don’t think I could ever eat another spoonful of that cocoa cream again. Not after how many containers I went through while on vacation in California. I had the mindset that nutella made every food taste heavenly. Pretzels, cookies, bread. It was all made more magical with this hazelnut spread. This jar was like a treasure chest full of gold that we just newly discovered.  We couldn’t get enough of it.

            After a long day of hiking the trails at Monarea Bay, nothing sounded better than tanning and relaxing along the beach. We had our eating routine down. We would each take a handful of salty pretzel, pass the large bag, and then dip each pretzel into the supersized jar of nutella. The salty crunch and the creamy chocolate created the perfect combination to tingle your taste buds.

            The humid ocean breeze tousled our hair as the sun spread warmth from head to toe. I was falling into a peaceful slumber with my hands clasped around the smooth jar. I awoke to seagulls gulling loudly and swarming all around us. Falling asleep with snacks scattered around is never smart to do while you’re at the beach.

            “Grab the blankets and run to the car!” My aunt squawked .

            Sadly, the container of nutella was left behind during the rush to the car. But another four jars were bought and thoroughly enjoyed throughout the three week vacation.  Once I was back in Michigan, nutella became a huge hit and the sight of it made me want to hurl.

Crab Ragoons

            I always thought of crab ragoons as a delicacy. Whenever I got to choose where to eat dinner, China Buffet King was always my first choice. Only so I could eat plate after plate of sky high mountains of crab ragoons. While everyone else spooned a variety of different chickens, dumplings and eggrolls onto their plate, I refilled mine with only crunchy crab wontons.  With every bite I could feel my tiny taste buds expanding and retracting, contorting themselves around each crumb of crispy wonton. The gooey insides melted instantly with each chew. My mother would look at me with disgust written all over her face as I devoured each serving.

“Gross. How can you eat so many of those at once?” She snarled. “They’re so tasty!” I murmured through a mouthful of food.

She hated eating there. But to me, China Buffet King was a vast sea. All the different varieties of food were like the thousands of different sea creatures swimming in the deep blue ocean And I got to explore it all. Sea horses and crab ragoons were alike in my mind, because sea horses were my favorite animal and crab ragoons were the most delicious Chinese food out there.

Family: Christmas Chaos

Me:

            “The other kids are already upstairs in the toy room and I thi-“ my aunt partially slurred in her already intoxicated voice.

            “Okay thanks!” I shouted back, cutting her off as I flew up the stairs. Everyone was already gathered together. Britney and Sandra were in the blue room putting makeup on each other. Chris was casually lingering in the corner where my brother later joined him. Victoria, Nathan, Trevor and Gerard were playing with dolls and action figures. After I joined them we raced Barbie cars down the hallway, dodging the brown spot smeared into the carpet. No one ever knew the real story of what it was or how it got there, but we were always told that the neighbor’s cat came up there and pooped one day way back when.

Mother:

            I was frantically pacing around the house, gathering up last minute things and wrapping forgotten presents. The aroma of burnt lasagna filled the room as I lifted the cat out of the Christmas tree and swept up broken ornaments. I looked everywhere for your brother’s tie which seemed to grow a pair of legs and walk away.

            “Uh oh! My button fell off my dress!” you murmured as tears filled your eyes.

I grabbed my needle and thread so I could so it in the car. We were already running late, like always.

Brother:

            “I still don’t get why we have to go. Christmas is so lame.” I muttered nonchalantly.

            You screamed back defensively, “It is not lame Zachary! Santa won’t bring you presents tomorrow if you keep up that attitude!”

            I was excited for Christmas, just not for the obnoxious twerps running around. But I knew how excited you always got for Christmas, and it was cute how you still believed in Santa, so I put on a fake smile and acted a little more enthusiastic. I told myself repeatedly that I could handle one night of complete chaos, and maybe if I told myself enough times then I really could.

Father:

            “Is everyone ready?” Your mother barked from the other room.

            “Yup, we’re all waiting on you.” I mumbled back.

            “No you’re not! You don’t even have your shoes on yet!”

            “I’ll still beat you out to the car though.”

Christmas parties on the Kalchik side of the family were always hectic. Your aunts turned into a wild pack of laughing hyenas when they all got together. They always shout perverted things and laugh about nonsense, but damn is the food worth the headache.

Me:

            Present time! Victoria and I always got at least one matching present every year. Anticipation ran through my veins, tickling my fingertips as I tore through the snowflake wrapping paper. We held the Christmas wonderland edition Barbie over our heads, squealing with glee.

            By the end of the night I was exhausted. I passed out in the car after being hypnotized by the white fluff drifting the night sky. There was no chance I would stay up late enough to catch Santa Claus. Maybe next year I could stay up late enough to catch him slithering down the chimney with a sack full of toys.