Lucas
June 15, 1995
I recently decided that I need to start reflecting on my decisions. I figured that I’ve wasted too much time reacting. If I can understand why I make certain decisions, maybe I can start to plan better and become more than the piece of shit that everyone expects me to be. After a month or so I realized that internal reflection wasn’t doing the trick. So this is me, applying lessons learned from my reflection and putting pen to paper. Don’t expect me to be one of those little girls that sits around writing about her feelings in a diary. This is strictly a personal growth tool, fuck feelings. Well, here it goes.
This morning I found myself sitting on a stage, surrounded by a bunch of people that I hardly knew, asking myself why I even bothered to show up. The smell of freshly cut grass filled the air and angst seeped from each and every one of us on stage. The school had made the oddly time decision to mow the grass the night before and dry, dead grass littered the stage and all of our shoes. We were almost there, just thirty minutes away from the freedom we had wished for throughout the last four years. If I’m being completely honest, it was probably being wished for during the previous eighteen years, but who’s counting.
The principle stood at the head of the stage with a microphone on a stand situated way too close to her mouth, her black robe, drowning her thin frame, sat comfortably on the ground covering her ridiculous lime green heels. Her dull, flat voice echoed across the football field as she read the names of each student. Each student, in turn, jumped from their seat with excitement and smiled for the cameras of their parents and loved ones as they strutted across the stage to collect the piece of paper that validated their existence to this point. All of their thoughts seemed focused on spotting their parents in the stands to ensure that they got the perfect Kodak picture, all I could think about was my parents, but for a completely different reason. They were always who I thought about during milestone moments, because they were never there to see them.
I was so lost in my head that I didn’t even hear them call my name. I snapped out of it when the surprisingly sharp elbow of the chubby kid sitting next to me jabbed me in the ribs. All eyes were on the six foot two loner who would have been the perfect star point guard, had I ever chosen to play for the school. I rose from my seat as the principle declared to the crowd that I was the class dreamer, still lost in my thoughts even though my dream was presently coming true.
As I collected my diploma I glared at my principle. How dare she tell the world that my only dream was simply to graduate from high school? The principle and I turned to the crowd for the typical graduation pose, but no camera flashed and no one celebrated my achievement, save for the few pity claps from those who were uncomfortable with the silence.
I scanned the crowd to find the only member of my family that bothered to show up. I spotted my aunt in the crowded stadium-style bleachers, hardly paying attention to the ceremony. She was probably wondering how long it was going to be before she would be able to have her next drink. I was wondering the same thing.
Following the graduation, my aunt wrapped one of her toned arms around my shoulder and placed her head lightly on my chest in order to give me one of her awkward hugs. Not affectionate enough to make me think that she cared, just enough for me to know that wasn’t indifferent. She kept her eyes pointed elsewhere and never looked up to meet my gaze. She didn’t ask to see my diploma, I didn’t ask if she wanted to see it.
Our family isn’t very keen on praise or recognizing accomplishments. I’m not sure if our unaffectionate habits were the result of spending all of our energy keeping our heads above water or because they genuinely just couldn’t care less. Does it really matter which was to blame when the end result was the same? I don’t think that it does.
I already had my shit packed and waiting for me by my room door. It’s been packed for the last three weeks, not that there was much to pack. I was accepted to Chambers University months ago and the plan was always to leave my aunt’s place the second that I was able. I didn’t have any place to go, but I knew I couldn’t stay at her house anymore.
Throughout my tenure living under her roof, there was an unspoken understanding that I was unwelcomed. Yes, I could stay as long as I NEEDED to be there, but the second that I had another place to go, I knew that she expected me to be on my way. I had been there for so long, it almost felt like home.
Home, imagine that. Home isn’t a real place for me. There is a where I am and a where I am going, but never a place where I belong. I don’t allow myself to think of my aunt’s place as home, never let myself get too comfortable.
I told her goodbye when I left, said I’d be back for the holidays. She knew that I was lying, we both did. I appreciate everything that she has done for me, but she isn’t my mom. She has no obligation to open her door to me or share her special moments with me.
Today was the last time that I would have to deal with her demeanor that made her seem like the tallest person in the room, though she was only five foot five. I looked her in the eyes and told her what I knew to be a lie, then turned and walked out of her door, never looking back. That is my way of life. I don’t look back, only forward. She was now in my rear-view mirror and I was never going to see her again.
I don’t have to check in to Chambers for another two months. I have no idea what I’m going to do or where I’m going to live until then, but I know that I have to get the hell out of this town.
Creative, ingenious and smart. I admire your writing!