Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Bearing a Burden


The world seemed to slip into slow motion with each step she took. Before she realized it, Kyra found herself seated in a patch of damp grass in front of the student union, clutching her book bag at her side.
She gripped the phone tighter with each word that resonated through the phone.
“Kyra,” her dad repeated. “You don’t need to worry. This isn’t a surprise.”
“Yes…… I do,” she stuttered. “Dad, this is…Dad, this is bad. What’re they going to do now? Do you have another appointment?”
“Sweetie, it’ll be under control, ok? I had to expect this.”
“Dad…”
“Kyra sweetie, let’s talk again tonight,” her dad said. “Didn’t you say you have class? Call back tonight, I’ll put it on speaker phone so we can talk to your mother too.”
“Okay, well –”
“Love you Kyra.”
“Dad – ”
“Kyra sweetie I’ll talk to you tonight, ok? Love you.”
“Love you, Dad.”
She held her phone to her ear until she heard the “beep” ending the call. Squeezing her book bag tighter, tears swelled in her eyes. She hugged her knees and book bag to her chest as if she was hugging her stuffed dog, as she took deep breaths to rid herself of the tears. It didn’t work though, as she put her chin on her knees and tears broke loose from her tear ducts, like race horses let out of the starting gate.
Her quiet outpouring of emotion occurred in the Great Circle, the main hang out of her college campus. Kyra sat between the student union and bookstore, away from the most common path that students took during the change of classes. If anyone noticed her rocking back and forth hugging her knees as she sat in the grass, they didn’t give her a second look.
A 20-year-old sophomore in college, Kyra was set to study abroad in Dublin, Ireland in 5 months during the fall of her junior year. She had first visited Ireland with her younger sister and aunt when she was 17. Posters of all different shades of green decorated the walls of her dorm room, and in her bedroom at home she slept under an authentic wool blanket that she bought at a market in Kildare. Each day in her daily planner was marked with a small number in the bottom right corner, counting down the days until her plane took off.
The phone conversation she had just had with her dad was a conversation which she prayed everyday would never happen. Her dad was 67 years old and his health was deteriorating. When Kyra was 7, her dad had a stroke which left him physically handicapped. Because of the stroke, he was forced to take an extended leave of absence from his consulting job, and finally retire. Though he relearned how to walk, eat, and speak, Kyra’s dad was deaf in his right ear, had nerve damage on the right side of his face and in his right hand, as well as in both of his legs. He needed a walker to walk and was no longer being able to drive.
It was not until Kyra’s freshman year of college when she made a new set of friends that she realized that her dad’s stroke had greatly changed what would have been the normal course of her life.
Kyra and her younger sister, Grace, grew up in a small town in suburban Chicago and attended all of their various levels of school with the same general group of children. Because of this close community, everyone knew each other’s family well and Kyra and Grace’s dad was not often spoken of. However, when Kyra went to college in southern Virginia, three hours from her small community of friends and family, she was suddenly bombarded with the expectation of explaining her dad. She realized that people expected her dad to be “normal.”
“He’s retired,” she would say. “He had a stroke when I was little. Yeah. He hasn’t been able to work since then.”
“My parents are visiting this weekend,” she told her friends as a warning. “My dad had a stroke, so if you can’t understand what he’s saying, don’t feel bad.”
“Yeah, I guess I did have to take care of my sister a lot,” she’d admit. “It never felt like that though. My mom just always had to take my dad to the doctor and stuff, so Grace and I got to play together a lot.”
Kyra’s friends’ surprised reactions often caused her to consider the benefits and downfalls of her dad’s stroke. Tinges of jealousy often struck her as she shared stories with friends about childhood memories, leaving her with mixed feelings of jealousy, confusion, and anger toward herself. She was angry at herself for being jealous of her friends playing sports with their dads. She was angry at herself for being embarrassed of her dad, when people stared at him as if there were something wrong.
In the mess of her tears, Kyra felt a wave of emotions. Initially, panic flooded her body. During the phone call her dad shared news with her that she had been dreading to hear. His white blood cell count had broken the barrier between “high” and “too high.” Leukemia sounded so much worse than anything else that had crossed her dad’s path. Sadness followed the panic, as she thought of her dad’s age, his health, and her younger sister. Maybe leukemia isn’t that bad, she thought to herself, we were expecting it anyway.
While leukemia was a serious condition, Kyra knew that this type of leukemia was not immediately life-threatening. Staring at a few ants trekking though the grass, Kyra’s tear ducts were bombarded full force by her tears when she thought of her upcoming trip this fall. She was angry and embarrassed at herself for being mad at her father, she knew it wasn’t his fault that he had leukemia now, but she wanted to go to Ireland.
She tried to stop the flow of tears, but anger swelled in her chest and the emotions burst from her body. Kyra furrowed her eyebrows and put her forearms on her head as she thought of all she had given up because of her dad. She spent many Friday nights babysitting Grace while her friends were hanging out, many afternoons grocery shopping or cleaning the house for her mom, countless times running around the house or around town picking up necessities for her dad, numerous days spending time with Grace’s friends rather than her own because she had to watch Grace, and hours upon hours working on the summer and weekends for her own spending money. Normally these things didn’t upset Kyra because this is what she knew, this was her life. But today, when all she wanted was to drop everything and Ireland, the place of her dreams, and finally do exactly what she wanted to do. She was envious of all of her friends who didn’t have these responsibilities and everyone she knew with a “normal” life. Kyra’s shallow breathing eventually slowed as these thoughts slipped to the back of her mind.
             She grabbed her phone and her thumbs quickly typed a text to her mom. “I’m going to come home tomorrow to talk to you guys about this,” it read.
After each piece lay neatly piled on top of one another, Kyra grabbed her bag and headed to the library to research her study abroad program when her phone vibrated.
“Hi,” Kyra answered.
            “Hi Kyr,” her mom said. “You’re coming home tomorrow?”
            “Yeah Mom,” Kyra said. “This is important, I wanna talk to you about it in person. Will you be free tomorrow if I drop by for a while?”
            She could hear her mom shuffling through her calendar.
            “Umm, yes honey, we’ll be free. How about you come home for lunch at 12?”
            “Alright, Mom,” Kyra answered. “See you tomorrow, love you.
            “Love you sweetie.”
            The sun soon made its way toward the horizon and Kyra’s stomach grumbled loudly. She had been on the internet for nearly three hours, researching her university, late deposits, leukemia, and emailing her study abroad adviser. She’d discovered that the housing deposit, which was due in three days, was a final payment which must be completed in order for her to attend the university in the fall. She’d scheduled a meeting with her study abroad adviser; however she knew that she had already made her decision.
            After hitting the al la carte station in the cafĂ© for dinner, Kyra boxed her food and took it to her dorm room to eat. She stabbed each green on her plate with conviction as she clicked on the tv in an effort to distract herself from her thoughts. When her plate was empty she climbed into her bed and lied down with her phone on her pillow, next to her head. She squeezed her stuffed dog, suddenly feeling very alone. She desperately wished that this wasn’t reality. Closing her eyes and rubbing her dog’s ear, she dozed off to the constant murmur of voices.
            The next morning, she was jarred awake by the sound of her alarm clock at 7:30 am. She quickly through off her comforter, grabbed her bag of necessities, and started her car for the drive home.
During her drive home, she thought of the development in her dad’s health. If she did in fact go abroad, Kyra feared that her dad’s health would worsen and she would regret her decision to be so selfish. Kyra would never forgive herself if something terrible happened to her dad while she was away. When she finally arrived at her cobblestone house and parked in her driveway, she grabbed her bag from her backseat and walked up the sidewalk to her front door. Her mom’s petunias lined the sidewalk, bulbs ready to bloom in the coming weeks. She unlocked the large wooden front door and was greeted by her dust-colored labradoodle, Cody.
            “Hey boy,” she whispered in his ear, bending down to kiss him on the head. She scratched his head, balls of wiry, curly hair in her hand.
            “Mom! Dad! I’m home!” She dropped her bag by the front door and walked into the kitchen in search of her mom. She could hear her dad watching the news two rooms away on his plasma screen tv. Kyra pulled the door to the stainless steel refrigerator open, assessing the options for lunch. Her mom appeared behind her.
            “I was going to make macaroni and cheese,” she said. “Do you want a sandwich, too? There’s baloney and honey ham in there.”
            “Hi Mom,” Kyra closed the refrigerator and hugged her mom.
            “Hi Kyr! Will you go get your Dad? I’ll put on the water for the macaroni.”
            Kyra padded down the hallway into her dad’s office, where she found her dad sitting at his desk, tv blaring, watching the news. After greeting him with a hug, they both made their way into the kitchen.
 “I’m glad you came home, Kyra,” her dad said. He leaned back in his chair and watched her mom bustle around the kitchen, busying herself with nothing in particular. “I’m glad we can all talk.”
            “Yes Steve,” her mom said. “It’s important. Honestly, what are we going to do if one of these problems that you have gets worse? You’re getting older. Kyra, he is getting older.” Kyra could feel the urgency in her mom’s voice. She watched her mother lean against the kitchen counter, eyes on her dad.
            “Mom,” Kyra answered in a hushed voice. “I don’t, well I don’t really know what to say. I know he’s sick, Mom. I’m not gonna go to Ireland, you don’t have to worry about that, ok?”
            “Your dad is sick, Kyra,” her mom raised her voice and looked at Kyra.
            “Mom, I know, I’m not – ”
 “Honey, you’re sick,” her mom said to her dad. “And yes, right now it’s not that bad. This leukemia isn’t that bad. But what are we going to do when there are complications – when the combination of everything is too much?”
            With each word, her mother’s voice filled with more and more feeling. Kyra watched her mom trying to hold back tears, trying to be strong for all of them. She turned back to the pot on the stove, hiding her face from everyone. Her mother was a worrier, but she had reason to be – she had to take care of her entire family.
            “Does Grace know?” Kyra asked. “Wait a second, where is Grace anyway? It’s Saturday.”
            “No,” her mom answered, turning back around. “We didn’t tell her because we don’t think that it’s worth it to worry her more than necessary. And she’s at Tracey’s house, she slept there last night. I’m supposed to go get her at 1:30.”
            “Well really Lynn, it’s not that dire,” her dad said.  “With the right care – ”
            “Steve – ” her mom marched across the kitchen and stood next to her dad’s chair.
            “Guys,” Kyra interrupted. “Just stop it we don’t need to talk about that, I’m not going.”
            “It’s not a good idea, Kyra,” her mom said, retreating back to the stove. “What are you going to do if he gets sick? What if – ”
            “Lynn you know it’s not that serious,” her dad cut off her mom. His slid his chair away from the kitchen table. It squeaked on the linoleum floor. “Kyra, we want you to go.”
            “Steven!” her mom raised her voice like she used to when she scolded Kyra for playing too rough with Grace. “You cannot just tell her that she can go! And you’re wrong, it is that serious. What am I going to do if you get sick! Grace will be three states away in the fall, Kyra will be across the ocean,” her voice grew softer. “And what do you expect me to do if you’re sick? Steven what am I supposed to do?”
            Kyra’s mom collapsed into her kitchen chair in defeat. Tears welled up in her eyes but Kyra knew she wouldn’t cry. She had never seen her mom cry.        
            “Mom,” Kyra said, reaching for her mom’s hand. “It’s fine Mom you’re right. It’s alright Dad, it doesn’t matter. I can go to Ireland when I’m older. It’s not the right time.”
            Her dad watched across the table, helplessly. Kyra had never known her dad to express emotion very well, so comforting her mother was not his forte. He pulled his chair back in, closer to the table.
            “I’m going to be alright, girls,” he said. “You don’t worry about me.”
            The three were jarred back to reality as the lid on the pot of water on the stove clanked against the pot. Her mom shot up from her chair and grabbed the box of macaroni, pouring it into the water.
            “Mom,” Kyra said. “I’m not going to go, ok?”
            Kyra stood up and reached for her mom.
            “Mom, I’m not going anywhere, you don’t have to worry anymore.”
            “Kyra, now – ” her dad started.
            Kyra’s mom pushed Kyra’s arms away from her.
            “Steven! Don’t! Don’t say anything! She’s not going, ok! Do ever think about how I feel, even for one second of your day? If she’s across the world, what am I going to do if you get sicker? What am I going to do if God forbid something bad happens to me – what if I get in an accident? I can’t take care of you alone, Steve – I just can’t do this all day all the time without any help! She’s staying here and she’s going to help me when I need help! So just stop it!”
            At this moment, Kyra’s mom was inches from her dad’s face. Her mom gasped and collapsed into the chair closest to her. The three of them paused, still for nearly three minutes, and only the dog, Cody, dared to make a move.
            Kyra’s dad pushed his chair out from the table and pulled himself up. Bracing himself on his chair, it took him three steps to reach Kyra’s mom. A tear rolled down Kyra’s cheek as she watched her dad struggle to bend his knees and waist so he could crouch to be eye to eye with her mom. With his right hand he reached for her face, which he touched lightly, and with his left hand he pulled her mom into an embrace.
            Kyra approached her parents and opened her arms to reach around each of them.
            “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere, Mom, I’ll be here.”

Friday, June 22, 2012

Action


            The ball ricocheted off of the palms of her hands before she steadied herself to take a shot. Gripping it, she launched it toward the hoop. Her hands flew in opposite directions as her elbows straightened, and the ball followed a narrow arc up toward the hoop. Clanging off of the back of the rim, it caught a lucky second bounce and slid through the net. Her next foul shots in the first half of the intramural game followed in the same fashion.

            Leading her team in points, she tried trick plays and silly maneuvers as they were ahead by 21. She sent a bounce pass behind her as she ran diagonally cross court to the hoop during a fastbreak, and her body tumbled across the paint until she knocked into the wall. Within seconds, officials and players were at her side, prodding her body parts.

            “Don’t touch IITTTTT!” she shrilled from the bottom of the pile. Three bodies bounced up and scooted to the bench. Lying on her back, she rolled from side to side clutching her knee to her chest like I had seen her hold her teddy bear so many nights. Her eyes squinted shut, eyebrows furrowed; she braced for more pain as she reached up for a helping hand. “Just stay still so I can grab you – don’t touch meee!” she squeaked, loud enough for the entire court to hear. After pulling herself up, she stood on one foot like a flamingo standing in a pond, trying to find her balance. One boy offered his arm at her side and she shoved it away. As she hopped to the sideline, I shrugged at her and rounded up my team to continue the game.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Barcelona

Palau Nacional, Barcelona





     She skips ever other step as she rushes to the top of the mountain of stairs that lead to El Museo Nacional d'Art de Catalunya. A drop of sweat trickles off of her nose and she whisks it away with the back of her left hand.
     "Jenna," her mother calls, 15 steps below her. "Would you slow down?"
     A gasp escapes from inside of Jenna, as she looks over the city while standing on a stone railing. Her mother and 5-year-old brother trek up the steps, hand in hand.
     "Jenna," her mother says. "You could just wait one minute. My goodness you're acting like you're 6 years old again, running away from us at Disney."
     The words bounce off of the 16-year-old girl, like a ball on a court. She takes in the Spanish sun as she gazes toward the Mediterranean Sea. Her father soon joins the family at Jenna's perch, after completing the climb up the steps.
     "Sorry hun," he says. "I had to get a few more shots on the way up. The view is great."
     Jenna's mother takes the camera from his hand, letting go of Derek's hand.
     "She's your daughter, that's for sure," her mother replies. "No matter what you say."
     Her father laughs and picks up the little boy.
     "What do you say we get a picture of the two of you kids, with the water in the background?" her father suggests.
     "Daaad --" Jenna starts.
     "Jenna, don't start this, please," her mother raises her voice slightly. "It's just a picture, anyway I don't see what the problem is. Now come down from there, sit over here with him."
     She points to a bench 10 feet away.
     "Yeah Wennah!" Derek shouts as he skips over to the bench.
     "Derek," Jenna growls. "It's Jen-nah, for the last time!"
     Jenna hops down from the railing and turns to her mother.
     "I don't have a problem taking a picture, Mom, but I do have a problem with him. He's constantly pulling my hair or messing my room up or --"
     "Not now Jenna, come on," her father interrupts. "We're on a family vacation right now. Please just go over there and stand with --"
     "DEREK!" her mother screeches , running toward the bench.
     Jenna's body snaps around 180 degrees in the direction of the scream, in time to see her brother's face panicked face as his right hand slips off of a stone railing, and his body disappear into the bushes on the mountain side.




Barcelona






El Born, Barcelona





Monday, November 29, 2010

Nightfall

Rolling from the ground like a herd of buffalo
kicking up deep purple cloud dust
against the faint yellow sky of a winter sunset.

"Mama," the child pleaded, "vas a estar en casa esta noche?"
Lipstick, perfume, hairspray all tucked into her clutch.
"Una besa mas," she bids her daughter farewell.

Clack clack clack on the cobblestone street.
As she takes her place on the roadside,
the last of the herd of clouds rumbles into the night sky.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

The Moon and the Yew Tree

 This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.
The tree of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God,
Prickling my ankles and murmuring their humility.
Fumy, spirituous mists inhabit this place
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky - 
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection.
At the end, they soberly bong out their names.

The yew tree points up. It has a Gothic shape.
The eyes life after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness -
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of stars.
Inside the church, the saints will be all blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this, She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence.

-Sylvia Plath

Saturday, November 13, 2010

The Break of Day

Flying in the clean, crisp air, do you think they even notice?
Hundreds of feet above the commotion -
     the everyday talk of laity and clergy - 
Do they even notice what's going on below?

An old man steps onto a balcony, greeting a crowd
     larger than the country in which he lives.
Thousands pile in for a glimpse of the white haired man
     with hopes that their faith with be validated.

As they soar through the cloud dusting in the sky,
    do the countries' borders matter to them?
Do they stand out to others, or can they distinguish
   others from themselves?

What is it like to be a Vatican City pigeon?