"You didn' t mean to do it, " he said softly. "But if anyone wants to know, that's what happened." With that, he squeezed my shoulder to comfort me and I was left to wallow in my guilt. I focused my eyes on my old sneakers, my thoughts increasing in volume. I didn't mean to do it. I felt my hands shake with fear as the weight of reality dropped onto my fragile shoulders. I couldn't keep this secret forever. Most siblings argue but here I was, lucky to have a brother that would actually cover for me. However, I couldn't bare the thought of what Dad would do when he found out that his most prized possession had been destroyed--Mom's glass vase. How foolish of me to think that it would be okay to run around inside the house. I was terrified but not for myself, for George. My anxiety grew with the thought of Dad's reaction. He would explode. I know he missed Mom, we all did. George laid out a plan: He was going to take full responsibility. The dog had gotten in through the back door on accident. It was his fault the door was open. The dog had run around in distress, bumping into tables and of course, the table with the vase tumbled to the ground. I wanted to open my mouth, to emit words and tell him, "No. You don't have to cover for me. I'll deal with it." But the words shriveled up in my mouth. I nodded and squeezed George. Surprised by my affection, he froze but eventually relaxed. He patted my head. "It'll be okay." His voice cracked. If I had seen his eyes, I knew they would have been wide with fear. And at that moment, the front door swung open and in stumbled Dad. I squeezed my eyes shut.
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Reds and oranges danced in the Autumn breeze. The branches of the trees that circled my house were becoming more bare with every sunset and sunrise. However, some had managed to grasp a hold of their green. The temperatures were dropping, the chill leaving impressions of pink on my nose and cheeks. My breath was visible and it swirled in front of my eyes before fading. After running home from the bus stop after a day of kindergarten, Mom would be in the kitchen preparing my favorite dish. Curiously, I watched as she buttered the pan. A blue flame caressed the bottom of the pan, the metal heating quickly. The butter in the pan began to sizzle, bubbles erupting onto its surface. The dense fragrance of butter permeated through the kitchen, inching its way to every corner of the house. Mom pulled out two slices of bread, placing them in the pan. The sizzling continued. I pulled my attention away from the pan and focused it on the Disney movie playing on TV. Mom sliced a block of cheddar cheese and placed it on the bread and placed a cover onto the pan. Similarly to my breath in the cold air, the steam inside danced and flowed. Before I knew it, the glass lid was lifted and in the pan was a masterpiece. The dish was displayed before me. It glowed a golden brown. Melted cheese oozed between the slices of perfection. Immediately, I took a bite, emitting a loud crunch. It tasted like love. It tasted like comfort. Mom sat beside me at the table, the two of us enjoying our grilled cheeses on a pretty Autumn day.RED
When I think of the first color of the rainbow I'm reminded of my favorite fruit: bright red and sweet strawberries. I then think of honey crisp apples and pink lady apples. I'm brought back to the day my mom and I decided to try the apples at Acme instead of the farmer's market. We laughed about spending $2 per apple when we could have gotten a whole bag of apples for the same price. I think of Kladinne's graduation/birthday party, decked out in Temple's cherry red colors. My thoughts are brought back to the day I realized I would no longer see her every weekend. I remembered the shock I felt when I realized she was a legal adult now. That was a weird feeling, seeing a girl I've known since I was five as an adult. Red reminds me of Taylor Swift's album, despite me not being a huge fan of her music. However, I will not deny having "I Knew You Were Trouble," "22," and "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," stuck in my head for months. Those days were simpler. There was little to stress over. I had just gotten Chuchay and my little brother, Ethan had reached one year of life. Red brings me back. Dear Mika from the Past,
You are currently ten years old. You were ecstatic to be "double digits" because all you have ever wanted to do is grow up. You dreamt of driving although the idea frightened you. You dreamed of your first job and the money you would use to buy the toys you never had. You had so many thoughts about the future. Many of the things you thought about came true. Many of the people you thought would be in your life forever have left. This all may sound crazy, but if there's one thing I've learned, it is that it will all get better. The rest of your life holds so much more. Everything is truly going to be okay. I am 16 now. In the span of six years, many things have changed. The long hair you swore you'd never cut again (ever since that ugly haircut in second grade) has been chopped. You donated it to children with cancer and it was cut by two people you do not know yet, but will be important to you in the future. As of now, you have not met your best friend yet. You'll meet her in 6th grade P.E. In a few years when you download social media, you'll meet Chip from the other elementary school. You will not know about Evan until 7th grade chorus. Many of your elementary friends are no longer your best friends. Though this may sadden you, don't worry. They are all still in your life. Soon you will meet Chuchay and you'll love her to death. Next year (when you're in 4th grade) you will join your first musical. You are going to love it and when you get to high school, you'll love theater even more. Shocker, but your friends aren't going to be limited to girls. You'll realize that not every boy has cooties. You'd never imagine the friends I have today. Your differences are what bring you closer together and you'll love them very much. With all this joy comes pain. There are many unexpected things that occurred during our six year gap. You are living in 2013. The year prior, Lolo was diagnosed with liver cancer but you didn't know it then. He was cleared after a surgery. Spend all the time you can with him. Savor every single time you drive together. Cherish every meal you share at Wendy's and the times you listen to KYW News Radio. Spearmint Extra gum will forever be your favorite gum. As well as with Lolo, give Hershey all your love. When Chuchay comes around, everyone is excited. Don't forget about Hershey. Give her all the tummy rubs and pets and treats in the world. She was the biggest sweetheart. As I have said, I'm 16 now. I've started driving which probably sounds crazy but yeah. I don't have a job YET but I'm planning on getting one as soon as I get my license in March. I love theater and I love my friends. Right now I'm struggling with chemistry but I think it will get better later. Vine is no longer a thing but tik tok is. Mario Kart is also popular right now--yes, it's an app. I know you're going to do great things. Hopefully I continue to do the same. I'm excited to meet you. All my love, Mika from the Future "So...you know what's coming up?"
"No?...shoot is it your birthday?" "I--no. It's not. Thanks, by the way." "Kidding--" "Seriously guess again...it's on the 19th..." "Um...oh. Hoco? What about it?" "Well aren't you going to ask him?" "Hahaha no. Funny joke." "What? Why not? Are you chicken?" "Yes. I am chicken." "Stop just ask him. I know you want him there." "Well, I mean yeah. Life would be so much easier if we went to the same school...then I wouldn't have to ask him." "Too bad he went to that private school." "Truth." "The guest forms are due soon." "Is it even worth it? He's going to reject me. He probably doesn't like dances." "That's why you ask him first. You'll never know if you don't ask." "How though? Should I be like: 'Oh hey go to hoco with me. Or don't.'" "Shut up. You know how you're just being difficult." "Should I ask his best friend to see if he'd be interested first?" "I mean go for it." "Okay fine." "Wow really? Dang oka--" "I'm scared. I might pee myself." "Girl, it'll be fine. I believe in you." Mika has been gone for a long time now. Her scent fades with every passing day. I wonder where she is and why she has not come back. She has been in my life for seven years. Usually the family leaves together over the summer, but it's been weeks. I miss her. I miss sitting on her lap while she did her homework. I even miss the way she'd react every time I stepped on her papers. I miss the snuggles and sleepovers. She liked to plop her softest blankets on me. I miss the food--especially the chicken-- she snuck under the table for me during every meal. She gave the best tummy scratches. She told me everything and I would listen. I am going to miss all the games of fetch. I am lucky to have watched her grow up. One day she's 12 years old and the next she's driving. I hope she comes home some day soon.
For about five of my sixteen years, I believed my name was “Mikaela,” pronounced “Mi-kay-la.” When I was younger, I thought it was much prettier than Mika and Mikaela, pronounced “Mika-ella.” When attendance was called, I let every teacher call me "Mikaela" because it was convenient (it also didn't help that I was shy). “Mikaela” is blue; everyone’s favorite color. “Mikaela” is like a rose, frail and delicate. Roses are common. My “name” was red and white stripes and white stars among navy blue. It was the glaring bursts of light on Independence Day. “Mikaela” got compliments, but Mika? Mika was different. “Mikaela” is never mispronounced. “Mikaela” fits in with Sarahs and Jessicas. My “name” blended and for a time, that is why I adored it so much.
Mikaela is exotic, but it’s a mouthful of letters. Mikaela tastes like soda that’s been watered down by ice cubes. It is the scattered pair of “tsinelas” that lie by the front door. Mikaela is the handcrafted, straw “walis” used to sweep the ground. Mikaela is like the repetitive crow of a rooster at dawn, unfamiliar and odd. My name is different and for a time, it was too different. But Mikaela is also the swaying palm trees that tower above the edge of the bay. It is the gathering families on karaoke night. My name is like the color yellow, the hue of sunflowers, a color that used to be everyone’s least favorite. It is a symbol of my beautiful home, the Philippines. Mikaela used to try so hard to be “Mikaela” but she appreciates her real name now. Mika is the name I like best. It’s the shortened version of Mikaela but it contains just as much beauty. Mika is easy to say. It is unique and I’m the only at school with that name (that I know of.) Mika is red and white stripes on the American flag, but it’s also the blazing sun of the Philippine flag. Mika is the murky, blueish-gray water of the Atlantic, yet it’s also the crystal, transparent water of the Pacific. My name is Mika and I wouldn't want it any other way. In the rear view mirror, the cab driver noticed mobs of children in the streets. There were occasional parades here and there, but this? This did not appear to be another parade. Trying to regain focus, the driver couldn't help but wonder, "what are all of these kids doing?" He had trouble keeping his eyes on the road. He could not jeopardize his safety or the safety of others, but he had never seen anything quite like this. The hands of the children gripped colorful posters, many of them being made out of cardboard. Images of the globe decorated their signs. The students were yelling. Chants rang through the air and the glass windows of the cab were not enough to deflect the sound. The cab driver had no clue what was going on. He had seen protesters before but he had never seen such young protesters. Children in grades k-12 stormed the streets, coming together as one. He continued to drive through the crowded streets, peering over his shoulder at every stoplight to catch a glance. What were these kids skipping school for? Although he wasn't entirely sure of what was occurring, he held a deep respect for the students and their cause.
Inspired by September 20th's student climate strike |
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