Let the Countdown Begin...with a sprinkle of thankfulness

Our bedroom that now looks like a
gingerbread house. 

     With less than a month left until Christmas, I have to admit I'm pretty excited...but it might not be for reasons you's expect. I look forward more to writing Christmas cards and buying things for other people, than I do to getting lovely little presents on Christmas day...I'm not sure why. It might sound strange to you that whenever Christmas comes around, the first thing that goes through my head is "What can I get for (Insert name here)?" But other than that, I love skating, (which we did the other day) and baking and dancing...and decorating is always fun too!

Lights

     If it wasn't for my incredible older sister, I don't think we would have decorated at all this year, so my extreme thanks go out to her since our house-both inside and out-looks absolutely beautiful. lit snow-covered candles accenting the ebony of the piano, garland twisted around the banister with lights, and red and silver runners on tables here and there. I congratulate myself because I have the privilege of being able to say that I helped out in this enchanting setup. 

     Another thing I'm very proud of myself for is the fact that I actually got around to Christmas cards this year! I bought my own, pretty cards that are sprinkled with sparkles and carefully wrote messages in each of them, which is a huge improvement from last year...when, I confess, I never got around to completing them. Now, all I have left to do is address those of the envelopes that I'm sending and then I can check cards off my mental to-do list! J

       One thing I have yet to check off however, is snow that lands. We've been lucky enough to have some of it sprinkle on us like icing sugar on a cake, and if my story book hopes and dreams come true, we'll have the first bit of it on the ground by 2:45 pm on December 21st so that I can finish fourth period, say goodbye to friends and teachers for Christmas break and then wait to get picked up while snowflakes find themselves in my hair and eyelashes. Fingers crossed, prayers said, that would make my last day ten times better than I'm already anticipating. 

     Finally, I add a touch of thankfulness to this post. 

After another amazing day at school I am exploding with happiful feelings and warm thankfulness for everything! Amazing people that care and make me smile and laugh all day long, for teachers that help me learn along the way. For a family that picks me up after school, for a little spare time to write before I enslave myself to studying for a chemistry test, for dinner downstairs that smells amazing, and for Christmas music playing in the background off of a koala shaped speaker to give me inspiration.

Box Cat...an Uncomfortable Point

A short, simple story that I pray you finish reading with a smile.J 

     For the past few days, we've had a high, very narrow cardboard box filled with paper sitting by our printer so that we have material to print off of at whim. It's not a very large box, 8.5x11" and not good for anything except for holding the paper that barely fits inside of it. 

     Now, it may be known or unknown to you that I am the not-so-proud partial owner of a rather big boned cat that goes by the name of Simone...or if you're mean like me, Fatty and occasionally Cow Face. Simone's weight issues are no secret, in fact, they've been around for the past seven years of her life after she outgrew kitten-hood and they're one of the first things you'll notice after you step through our front door. Often, the first remark visitors make-whether returning or not-is "Is that a cat?"

     When she runs down the stairs to get fed in the morning, she's fast until she tries to stop and her back end catches up with everything and causes her to roll over herself until she hits the wall. When she runs around a corner she's like an elegant tiger until her gut catches on the sharp turn and weighs her down so that she tumbles down the hill. She's ear trained, to the sound of a tuna can opening and the scoop of  breakfast clinking into her metal dish. She doesn't sleep in her bed, or on the couch or blanket, in fact she normally will find the most unthinkable, uncomfortable spot to sleep for the afternoon like a piece of wood, a plastic lid, in the middle of a puzzle or on top of my pile of hundreds of pages I'm organizing from my binder.

     I came home from dance just the other night to the news of her finding a new sleeping spot and when I went to inspect it I found a surprise, although I should have expected as much. Out like a light, Simone was sleeping in the half full, tiny, cardboard, paper box by the printer. Her rolls bulging over the sides and her paws barely able to fit in with everything else. Now, that's officially her new favourite spot and if you're looking for her, she'll probably be. I don't know how she thought she could fit in there...maybe she jumped in and couldn't  force her body to cooperate in getting out so she decided to make the best of it! 

     Whatever was going through her mind, I have a high respect for her determination...and like I always say, "E for effort!" Here's to one crazy box cat!

Battling Writer's Block...One Blessing at a Time...Both a Pearl and a Point

     It's another day that I'm sitting directly in front of my computer, staring emptily at a blank post page writing...or at least trying to. For the past week I've been in this situation, a new post started every day, Lord willing I'll finish and publish one of them! I'm a terrible liar, so I'll confess that I have eight, if not more, posts in my drafts box that are waiting for their moment to shine. Whether that time will ever come I have no idea, hopefully it will, but before it does I need to battle this writer's block that's got me at a red light in my creative intersection.

     I came to the conclusion that of the two ways I know how to defeat writer's block, it would be best to take action on one of them. Either A.) Take a break and come back to the post in a week. Or B.) Write something entirely new and simple. My obvious decision, since me and writing are inseparable, was B. I then found myself on the question of "What is the simplest thing to write?" The answer I was searching for was simple as I found it in everything around me.

     Please bear with me as I take a stab at writer's block and attempt to list all of the things I'm thankful for. As it is an endless list, I've tried to make it a relatively normal length for everyone's sake.

1.) Number one on my list is an obvious one, but the amount of thankfulness I have towards and for it can never be stretched enough. I am thankful for my family who, through everything that I say and do will never stop loving and supporting me. All of you make me laugh and smile on a daily basis and can always somehow perk me up when I'm feeling sad. There is never an end to the fun we have, and you also pay for things which saves me money, so I'm thankful for that too!

2.) Secondly I'm thankful for my friends, of which there are quite a few. I can't honestly say how happy I am to have you in my life. From making me laugh, to eating lunch with me at school, and encouraging me that my scissor splits aren't really as bad as I think they are. Even just making my overall miserable day lighter and worth waking up to. Thank you!

3.) I'm sure some people thought I might never say this one, but it's true. I'm thankful for my school in which every day is exciting and incredible. So much so, that I look forward to Mondays so that I can be back with all of the amazing people, learning something new. For teachers who inspire and encourage me, the people that are never elitist, and the SLD that is always there, I can't ever be thankful enough. I'm always learning, always laughing, always growing and always improving someway or another.

4.) I'm thankful for my dance school. The two of you teachers are incredible and inspirational to me. You make me want to pursue dance every time I find it difficult, help me every time I ask and always are willing to eat my cookies...even though there's a chance they might taste terrible.You stuff each class full of both an intense workout and smiles so that we're not afraid to try and risk falling on our faces...because it has happened. ;) 

5.)  For number five and my last one, I'd like to thank God. When I look at everything that precedes this, I realize that there is no way, no how that any of this could have even been possible without you behind me to keep pushing me forward when I feel like I'm ready to quit. Out of difficult situations you have shown me solutions. Out of first time meetings you have created beautiful friendships. Out of a love for movement you have given me the freedom to express myself and so much more! You have backed me up and given me everything I need and more to survive. Without you, none of this would have been existent, so I believe that the least I can do is acknowledge that. Thank you. For everything you've done and will do, there is no end to my gratefulness.

Thanksgiving Dinner

 Thanksgiving Dinner

Thanksgiving dinner, 

It's the dinner that's the winner,

Before the meal you're thinner, 

And after, you feel fat. 

When the turkey's stuffed,

And the pastries puffed, You never eat enough, 

But after, you feel fat.

Veggies pass you by,

Mashed potatoes to the sky, 

Why once a year, just why? 

Later, you'll feel fat.

There's some gravy on your shirt, 

And your stomach starts to hurt,

Oh look here comes dessert, 

Now...you're fat.

~Laurel Farrell

2012

Truffula Trees and Brown Barbaloots...A Point

     Today was the last day of school before the long weekend, and the four day break I'm getting is well appreciated by my body. However, as much as I was itching to get home and relax this afternoon, something small at school  inspired me, causing a thought trigger.

     We had Science as our last period today which proved to be very interesting, seeing as we got to watch a movie. To finish off an Ecology packed week of learning about HOPIC, Invasive Consumers and cycles, we summed it all up by watching and educational film known as none other than The Lorax. I'm not talking about the 2012 adaptation featuring Danny Devito and Taylor Swift, I'm talking about the 1972, twenty-five minute original cartoon. 

     As I was filling out my question sheet during the film I found that I was smiling to myself at the mention of Swomee Swans and Humming Fish and the infamous Barbaloots that munch on Truffula Fruit. All in all it's an adorable short, but as simple as it is, the message is really important and specific to what we've been learning for the past few days.

     Unless. In the end of the movie the Lorax leaves what was once a "Glorious Place" and in his spot remains only a pile of small stones with one word engraved on them-Unless. Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, things aren't going to get better. They're not. -Dr. Suess.

      The more I think about it, the more I realize it's true. Things do have a great potential to get worse on this planet, and they will if we continue on our current demanding track. I'm not insisting we all go 'green' and renovate our houses to be decomposable, in fact, I'm the last person to be pro environment. However, I'm saying that if a children's poem can be so simple and still motivate as many people as it has, how many equally simple things can we do to help out in our ecosystem? 
Like this blog entry, it's just another small thing to think about...

The Flight of Time...A Point

Six months. 
Twenty-six weeks.
One hundred and eighty-two days.
Four thousand, three hundred and eighty-two hours.
Two hundred, sixty-two thousand, nine hundred and seventy-four minutes.  
fifteen million, seven hundred and sixty-eight thousand seconds. 

     Time is a wonder. So much of it, but so little at the same time. Why do hundreds of trillions of minutes soar past us so quickly? Already today marks the half year time stretch since my last birthday, yet I remember everything as if it was yesterday. Finishing dance class and getting hugs and birthday wishes from everyone before putting on my dress and going for dinner. Six months since I sat at the Italian restaurant and tried to decide over a dish for my dinner. Six months since my little sister surprised me with a copy of The Hunger Games and I was exploding with astonishment and happiness. Six months since I sat on my Aunt's couch and opened what is now my favourite hoodie. It's incredible how long ago it is already.

      I've been going to high school for one month exactly as of tomorrow, but in reality it only feels like two weeks. Already we are eleven months away from summer and only a little less than three months away from Christmas. Why time? Why are you going so fast? Stop for a little while won't you? 

     People have asked me, after reading one of my first blog entries, why it is that I cry on Christmas. It's true, every Christmas Eve for the past few years has brought me to tears. This is the reason. I cry because time has slipped so easily through my fingers, it has gone away forever with no way or hope of ever getting it back. It's slowly, day by day, minute by minute, becoming a little farther out of my grasp and disappearing from my view. I can go through my life smoothly, shallowly and without concern but every once in awhile it hits me like a rock again, how far I am in life and how much I've been missing. 

     It makes me upset and truly, scared to think that each day is all I have. I wish so badly that I could freeze where I am now and live in it forever, where there is no tragedy, heartbreak or hardship. Where all of my relationships are good and everything is perfect. Coming into September was extremely hard for me because I was terrified that I would lose every good thing that had happened over the summer-friendships that had become one hundred percent better than they already were.

     But looking back, I see that all of the worrying was pointless. If anything, the friendships have become even stronger and the good things have grown into positive experiences that I will remember for the rest of my life. Yes, time does fly past us and no amount of wishing or begging can slow it down, this is sad. But the one thing we can do to make it last, is live to the fullest in every single moment. As hard as it is, forgetting tomorrow, putting aside next week and thinking only about the present minute, that's what we should do. No matter what happens today or any other time in the future, take what you're doing right now and rejoice in it because it's a beautiful gift from God, no matter how short it is. 

Puddicombe Farms...A Pearl

  Much to my delight, autumn has been exceeding my expectations. Today we took a pleasant little trip to Puddicombe Farms, a cute area just a few minutes from here. It's actually quite surprising how much they have there, not only is it a Pick Your Own orchard-where you can currently harvest pumpkins and apples-but it also has several different kinds of animals, all of which have been rescued. From pigmy goats to peacocks and a cow that has a liking for snuggles, we had a lot of fun meandering around. They also have a little train with quite the history that takes you on a tour of the farm all the way to the back of the escarpment. It's actually fun, although we didn't go this time around. 


     Today I broke down and bought some fudge for the family, I'm looking forward to indulging in the chocolate caramel sensation later. Apple picking was really a lot of fun too, but then...who doesn't like picking their own fruit? The best part about it by far is snacking on the job-empires are delicious this time of year-and biting into a juicy, crunchy, delight. Whenever we pick our own fruit, for some bizarre reason, I always eat more of it. Maybe it simply tastes better knowing how much fun went into the experience of it all. 

     I'm an animal lover, so of course, the petting zoo was my favourite part of the day, especially since they had two ponies. You can assume I was ecstatic when the little one just kept sticking its head through the fence to let me stroke his muzzle and give him a scratch between the ears. The cow, believe it or not, was begging for attention! He pushed his head right up against the fence and held it there while we massaged his forehead and every time we stopped, he nudged the fence for us to continue. I have never seen a cow do that before. It was completely, entirely entertaining and adorable!

     Emmah and I also got to pick a pumpkin, it feels like forever ago since we did last! There were quite a few to choose from and you should have seen the way my face illuminated at the sight of a perfectly round pumpkin sitting in a ray of sunlight. I insisted it was the perfect one because of the cuteness factor...if it's possible to find that in a pumpkin-which I believe it is. But after a few minutes, we agreed on a another one instead. It was smaller than some, perfectly round, and Emmah was able to carry it with not more than a little struggle which means it was just the right weight. After plopping it onto the scale and paying the 'man' we climbed into the car with our harvested crops and fudge and began the five minute journey home. 

   

  All but one family member home, cool, crisp, weather, no homework, leaves starting to change and one amazing day after another...yes I think the autumn odds are in my favour. 

Autumn

I love fall. There's something about the way that the breeze breezes that summons me. It's not like a summer breeze, which is still warm, but Autumn breezes are cool and almost chilling and they always put me in the mood. The mood for sweaters and jeans and pumpkin spice lattes. For apple picking and cinnamon sticks and leaves and being outside. It puts me in the mood to write, which is good, because hopefully I'll be posting more. 

     It was a couple weeks ago sometime when I woke up, and felt the air coming through our window. When I went downstairs the first thing I said was "Mom, it feels like Fall!" As if by instinct I dressed warmly, socks and a sweater, but unfortunately for me, it was still August and twenty-seven degrees outside. Thankfully, wonderfully, now it's September and the cool days have given me the liberty of dress. 

     On Friday, Mom and Emmah picked me up from school and the first thing they asked after I climbed in the car was, "Do you want a pumpkin spice latte?" Those are my favourite! So, to Starbucks we went and I indulged myself in the nutmeg-sprinkled whipped cream and half pumped coffee. Fall also puts me in the mood for reading, and if you didn't know this already, I'll tell you. I am the person that you keep away from the book store. No matter the season, I will go into the library or Chapters and fall in love with the place. Just the smell of paper does something to me. Paperbacks are like Sirens in the ancient Greek Myths for me; they distract, tempt and pull me in and during this time of year, it's ten times worse! 

     I go into the bookstore telling myself, "Laurel, you don't need anymore books. The chance that you'll read them is slim..." Still, there are few places I love going to other than the book store. 

     I look forward to watching the leaves change on our view of the Niagara escapement. It'll be absolutely beautiful. Even now, the more I write, the more I can't wait for Autumn to really set in.

     Although I can't say that this is my favourite time of year, it is a season that has been well awaited and I intend on living it to the fullest! 

The Sandwich

     This is something I've been meaning to get out for a long time. My apologies to the owner, I know I said I would blog about it when it was "New News" sadly procrastination has been poking at me.

     I'd like to present the cutest guinea pigs I've ever seen, Peanut Butter and Jelly. Also known as...The Sandwich. 

     I remember having a conversation with the owner once, saying that my gerbil was the epitome of cuteness. She had asked me what epitome meant and I responded saying, "It means when you look up the word in the dictionary, my gerbil's picture will be there." She countered, insisting that she was sure her guinea pigs were there, and not my gerbil. To resolve this serious issue I explained that her guinea pigs are the epitome of adorable. This is true. 

     Peanut Butter's name was picked perfectly because she reminds me of a Reese's Cup. Her black, silky fur has caramel coloured ribbons throughout. She's the cuddly one and while it's impossible to pick which I like better, her or her sister, I love that she's content to be stroked and sit in your hands. 

     Jelly, if there's one thing I love about Jelly it's her fur. Spiked tufts stick out in every direction and are all kinds of colours from black, to white to grey. She likes to snuggle too, but she's also more of the adventurous one. She likes to explore the room and find a nice cozy corner to sit in. 

Snuggling.

     The funniest thing is how much these two rodents love their owner. The second she walks into the room the rodents start to make noises. Clicks and squeaks and noises that remind me of Chewbacca. When they know they're going to get their vegetables the come out of their wooden house and wait patiently for celery and other yummy treats. Once they get fed, it takes seconds for the little mammals to devour the greens and after they're finished they're happy to be petted on the noses. Then they crawl back into their house and snuggle up to each other to sleep. 

     Although you can't eat it, this Sandwich is one sweet sensation. 

Florida...A Pearl

     It's been forever, but I'm finally blogging about our vacation to Florida. I think I go through bursts where all the ideas rush to the front of my head and I just want to blog all day long, Then, usually for months after, I write nothing even though exciting stuff is happening all the time!

     To work on keeping things short. I'm going to try and blog about our vacation in 500 words and I'm staying away from point form. Here we go!

     We left Canada on a Saturday morning to drive to Pittsburgh where my brother lives. We would be driving down with him and his wife. Sunday morning, after my brother finished church, we piled into two cars and began our eighteen hour escapade. If you know me well, it probably won't surprise you that all I packed to entertain myself was a notebook, a pen and a novel. The ten hours the first day were beautiful, as we drove through West Virginia and Virginia, I loved the mountains. Around ten o'clock that night we stayed the night in Columbia, South Carolina. The next day we drove the rest of the trip and stopped for roadside peaches just inside Florida. Around six that evening we reached the cottage on Anna Maria Island. What a surprise it was to find trees blown over and streets flooded. We'd caught the tail of Tropical Storm Debby.

     The first few days were spent at the beach across the street, collecting shells. The positive side to the storm was that it washed up all kinds of things. If we weren't too tired, we'd get up at six, before high tide and collect all kinds of stuff, then spend the days at the beach and wash off at the pool later on. After day one, even with sunscreen, we were burnt to crisps. Slowly, the murky water started to go back to it's clear blue, it stopped raining and got hotter. Every day I wore a dress and my hair in a waterfall braid. I called it my beach look. My brother caught two catfish that we ate for dinner, they were delicious. The Friday after we arrived we were joined by my older sister, who flew down for the weekend just so we could have a real family vacation. The first in eight years.


     That was probably the best part of the trip, when the most stuff happened. We went out for dinner a couple times. My brother took us fishing in the Gulf of Mexico and while I was catching little fish-whose names I only remember sounding like Tracker Jacker-Adam caught a baby hammerhead shark. He was actually adorable, although it was creepy that he was swimming just a few feet in front of us. We also saw a manatee twenty feet from shore along with some dolphin's while we watched the sun set on the sand. I found a bunch of baby clams in tide pools and my older siblings swam out to the sandbar. Then we bought a few souvenirs. I love when we're all together because that's when we all laugh the most. 

     My sister went home and we stayed until the following Thursday. July 4th was our last night and we went out to the beach to watch the sunset. After it got dark fireworks were exploding in every direction literally above our heads. We didn't know where to look next. They were exquisite. The next morning we were on our way back home. Finally we pulled into the driveway of my brother's house and that night, collapsed into our beds. The next afternoon we drove back home and unpacked everything. That night I fell asleep really fast. I hadn't slept in my bed in two weeks. Yes, we would miss Florida, but it was good to be home.


Total: 558 words. A little over, but it's worth it. 












     

Fresh Ink...A Pearl

     Recently, in the local paper, we read about a contest being held by the St. Catharines Library called Fresh Ink. This year would be the twelfth annual writing contest for students aged twelve through eighteen living in the Niagara Region. All you had to do was write a short story or poem. My Mom suggested I enter and I gladly agreed, but I had one problem. I can't write short stories. Everything I've ever written since I was little, has been long and well...detailed. I had ideas coming out my eyeballs for this contest, but with a limit of 1,500 words I was feeling it would be impossible.

     Maybe you've read my previous entry, Lilac Lane. Mom suggested I enter that because she loved it. After this was decided, I payed little attention to writing at all until I figured I should probably check the word count on it. I discovered it was 1,630 words. Mom assured me we could edit it so that it would be shorter, but then something happened; we got busy. Suddenly I was being called out to movie sets and we had a few appointments and get togethers and the next thing I knew it was July 31st. We were in Burlington, early in the morning, when it hit me. I put my hand to my head. The deadline was today and my work was at home. Needless to say I was disappointed and mad at myself.

     On the way to my grandparents, where we would spend the morning, I was explaining to my Mom how Dad had woken me up that morning. She was laughing hysterically. Then I had the idea. I would use Grandma's computer to write my entry and I would write about my experience from that morning. Sure enough, at Grandma's I went to her computer and I think maybe an hour later, I had completed my entry for the contest. I printed it out, and as a team, Mom and I edited it and read it aloud to my grandparents. The next thing knew, I had clicked the submit button. This was the first contest I've ever entered for my writing and the excitement I felt...that I still feel, is incomparable!

To read my entry, click the link at the top of the page titled Fresh Ink 2012. Thoughts are welcome!

Lilac Lane-Chapter One-Serial Anecdote

June 16^th, 2012.

     Today I went to the orchard again. It’s the only real place I can go to think. Peaceful and serene, I feel free there, but then I always have. I felt the cool breeze kissing my face and the song of Robins touched my ears as they communicated through the branches, there can’t be a more beautiful sound. The lilacs are in bloom now, full and fragrant. It feels like only a few weeks ago that I spotted the first Crocus heads poking through the earth, when in reality the calendar says it was almost two months ago.

     

     I sat in my tree, for at least an hour, just mesmerized by sounds and scents, until I saw white haired Lemuel Sherman again. He was examining the blossoms on the Magnolias, I think he misses the place. The only reason he can possibly still come now and then is because it reminds him of her. They used to come all the time for picnics, laughing, smiling, and talking, to me even. (Which I think is almost dreadful. If I had to talk to myself, I’d want out of that conversation fast!) But people seem to enjoy my company…most of the time!

     

     Since Corinne died though, Lemuel doesn’t say much, other than the occasional “Hi.” I understand because even I miss Corinne. I think they were married for almost 50 years, before she got sick last fall. When she found out about the bone cancer, the entire town went into grieving for her, and not just because we thought we wouldn't be getting her raspberry squares anymore-although Blake said that was the source of the melancholy-because we did get them. I think that's part of the reason why everybody loved Corinne Sherman. I think that’s why I loved her. Even when she was on death’s doorstep she was present for every fundraiser, every meeting, even helping out at the food bank when she wasn’t held up by the doctors. When she did die though, everyone cried. My face was tear stained for days, but Margaret left me to myself thankfully. Now I just try not to think about it.

     

     The Orchard isn’t really an orchard anymore. Everyone in town used to come to pick, but I guess it got old and twenty years ago it was left to rot. Since the stench of rotting fruit was so foul, the mayor had most of the trees removed and planted flowers instead: wisteria, lilacs, dogwoods and smoke trees. Luckily, he left a few fruit trees like the plums, pears and crabapples which I’m thankful for, because in the summer they make great snacks. My tree is an old Autumn Cherry. Its highest branches reach about twenty feet. It’s not very big, but is easy to climb, if you know how, and right now the blossoms provide pretty good concealment, which is exactly what I need. The lilac trees kind of spread out through the place and continue all the way to my house in a long narrow strip, resulting in beautiful burst of periwinkle. I called it Lilac Lane.

     

     Last Monday marked three years of me being here, which is hard to believe, since it feels like I came only a few months ago. I remember when I first met Margaret and Dale Catawin and their three sons, Felix, Blake and Liam. True, I was scared, but I should have been. I’d been tossed around from foster home to foster home for eleven years before I found them…or should I say, they found me. The last thing I needed was to be intimidated by three boys, all over six feet tall. I was sitting on my bed in the spare room, that first day, when Liam came in. He sat on the across from me for a while, wordless.

    

      “So, you’re and orphan?” Was the first thing he ever said to me and it took everything inside me not to break down. Every other home I’d been in, the kids would find a way to tease me about this and they were successful too, since most of my nights ended in tears. Preparing to defend myself, I nodded at him. He looked sad for a minute, and then said softly, “I’m sorry. That’s terrible.” I just stared. “But, I want you to know, as long as you’re here, we’ll be your family…that is, if you want us to.” Whether it was because I was surprised or overwhelmed, in shock or just so crammed full of anger, for whatever reason, before I knew what was happening, tears started streaming down my cheeks. His face hardened. “Well don’t cry! We’re not that bad!” I laughed for a while before I worked up enough sanity to say,

     

     “Thank you.” It was then I decided to trust him and since I did, we’ve been close. Very close.

     

     I was dropped off at the foster home when I was a baby. I used to think I was like Orphan Annie or Oliver Twist, but after I got older, that fantasy evaporated fast. Every character I read about was left with a clue to their identity. A locket, a letter, I read one book about a boy that was left with a spoon with his name engraved in the handle. I was left with nothing. Well, I shouldn’t say that. Faye Weaver, my social worker, has a bunch of information on record, but I don’t want any of it, except my last name: Simone. (One of the other women that Faye worked with at the time named me Aster, which sounds ok I guess…Aster Simone. I think it means star or something) I don’t need any of it though. There’s no reason to find my family. I don’t want to meet the people who gave me up for some unknown reason, because I don’t care who you are, in my mind there’s no excuse for giving up your child.

     

     The Catawin’s have wanted to adopt me from day one. But for whatever reason, I’m assuming it’s the house size, or the income or something, the board won’t allow it. I don’t care though. Whatever the social workers say, I still think of myself as part of the family. I have since Liam said what he did to me, but I won’t take their last name. Or, no. I shouldn’t say that. I’d take their last name instantly. It’s that I can’t, another stupid problem concerning the board. Until they allow the Catawin’s to adopt me though, we’re all happy living together, and I don’t want to go anywhere.

    

      I also almost broke my neck today. I was so absorbed in thought, in that tree, thinking about my life, what my future could possibly hold, until his voice made me jump and almost fall fifteen feet to the ground.

     “I thought I’d find you here!” It was Liam.

     “It appears you did,” I said when I finally calmed down.

     “I guess so,” he thought for a second. “What are you doing up there anyway? Building a nest?”

     “Of a sort.”
 He was smiling. “Well, you’d do better down here. You’re not a bird you know.” 
I opened my mouth in astonishment. “I’m not? All these years I thought I was!” I giggled. “I guess that answers why I could never fly.”

     “That’d make sense.” He laughed. “So, are you coming down or what?”

     “No. I think I’ll stay up here. It’s really nice…There’s no one to bug you.”

     “I see.” He said, pretending to be insulted. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to eat your dinner for you.” 
I put my hand to my grumbling stomach. “On second thought, I think I’ll come!” Grabbing the limb across from me and letting go, I hit the ground with a thud.

     “Ouch.” Liam flinched.

     “Ouch yourself!” I laughed. We walked back to the house together, his arm around my shoulders, my hands gripping the pink jacket I brought with me. Liam’s four years older than me, but I’ve feel like we’re the same age, it’s probably because he doesn’t try to act older than I am. Which is funny because he’s almost eighteen. When we finally got back to the house, the rest of the family was sitting at the table.

     “You’re late.” Felix said.

     “No.” I responded, pulling out a chair. “We’re on time, the rest of you were just early.” Dale laughed.

     “That’s one way to think about it.” Dinner tonight was delicious, I love Margaret’s cooking. Roast chicken and scalloped potatoes with green peas and cranberries. I’ll never go hungry as long as she’s around.

     

     During dinner there was a knock at the door and Blake got up to get it. We could hear a lot of talking in hushed tones until finally Margaret went to see the visitor for herself. The dining room was suddenly quiet. I looked at Felix and he must have picked up on my anxiety because after he finished swallowing he said,

     “It’s probably just someone trying to sell something.” A few minutes later Blake came back in the room. Silent and avoiding eye contact.

    

      “Who was it?” Dale asked finally, looking deep into his son’s eyes. But before Blake could speak, his question was answered. In walked Margaret, followed by none other than Faye Weaver, my social worker, who looked around at us for a while, smiling nervously. “Faye, what brings you here?” Dale asked happily. Something was wrong, this I knew. Anyone could read off of Margaret’s unusual silence, and Blake’s  serious expression. Suddenly I was uneasy and fear crept up my legs. Why was she here? What could she possibly want?  

     “Well,” Faye began. “There’s been a change of plans. Aster can’t stay here anymore.”

Proud Parents

Kiwi the Kitten

     They say dogs are man's best friend. But what about the rest of the animal kingdom? It's clear to see that since the beginning, man has had the company of other animals, just Google "Pet Bonds" and see for yourself. Rows among rows of pictures will be displayed of human and animal love. The best of this love is found in first time pet owners. They're the ones that take giant leaps to meet every need of their new friend, while the rest of us, who are familiar to animals, see them as spoiling. Yes, maybe a lot of the "extras" aren't necessities, but the love that is the motive is truly sweet.

     Two siblings, a brother and sister had asked me to come to visit them and their brand new pets. She had gotten a kitten, he a rabbit. It was with ecstasy that I went to visit them and what I found was this "new" love. When the kitten was placed in my arms I, being a previous owner of a few cats, tried to cuddle her. But it was clear that the cat wanted nothing to do with me...I was strange. I had a bit more success with the rabbit, but not much. "Ralph," the owner said to him. "Be nice." The dwarf lop's powerful legs scratched at my arms until eventually I was forced to put him back on the ground, where he was happy to eat grass from his harness.

     Oh well. I thought. But what was really nice to see was the owner's interaction with the animals. "We've trained her," The cat's owner said. "She licks your nose when she wants down." Among other things, I discovered the cat was also being potty trained when I went to use the bathroom and found a red ring filled with cat litter on the top of the toilet seat. We had fun watching the animals natural instincts as well. The owner would let the cat off her harness and, from a close distance, throw her towards the base of the tree. We'd watch the cat's claws grip the bark and climb to the highest branches. Of course, the fun part was having to climb up the tree and bring her down. "Firefighter." I called it. As for the rabbit's enthralling instincts, I enjoyed watching his nose twitch as he picked the clovers out from the grass.

     After the fun, the owners took turns snuggling their pets. When the girl picked up her kitten, the cat seemed to melt in her arms. Purring, licking the tip of her nose and meowing sweetly. The rabbit squirmed constantly in my eyes, but when cuddled by his owner he was happy to sit on his lap and be mauled. The cuteness of it all was unbearable. 


     Other than the fact that animals don't take care of themselves, I think we can all agree that they make great companions. I know that after that short visit, I left with a joy bubbling up inside of me both for the proud parents-who are in for the rides of their lives-and for the animals who are sure to have a happy life.   

Ralph enjoying a belly rub.