Thank you Steve for making me aware of this piece written by Ella. She is transforming me with her journey. The book just fell down this morning from the shelf and there it was. I thought it was misplaced but I guess it wasnt. It is as if she is telling me this story that I need to know. She wrote this in 9th grade for a language arts assignment. MY MOTHER SAYS By Ella Myers My mother says that when the house is quiet and the snow falls, there is a sort of calm that settles over; like a fog it blankets everything. Everything. Time doesnt seem to matter. The old cherry wood clock thats been passed from generation to generation ticks noisily in vain. Nothing but a simple reminder. And then something, something from the outside in breaks the silence, breaks that calm and the stillness is shattered like my grandmothers good china to the floor. But dont worry, it will be back. If only in glimpses, but glimpses where time doesnt seem to matter and the world fades to white. My mother says growing up is difficult. When I was young things were simple. The world seemed to make sense. But then one day you wake up and you realize youre missing something. That things are different in subtle ways, but ways that make you wonder who you are, who you were and what you will be. You look at the world through different eyes. The old swing set sitting in the rain, rusting away to nothing but a memory. The trees over the fence no longer beautiful against the fading light but merely there. The world use to be so colorful, every color you could think of, blue, orange, red, pink much like the flowers at the grocery store that you always longed to receive. Now the pigment has drained away to nothing but black and white and gray. Happiness that used to be so plentiful now seems so elusive, like the rainbow, it taunts you but never lets you win. Growing up has a way of making you realize what you had and what you have. Sometimes I worry things will never be the same. My mother says not to worry. I dont know if I believe her. My mother says god is in everything. She says god is all around us, inside us. This is true for me but I cant help but wonder, is it true for everyone? For the woman who lives down the road and has lost her way? For the old man who lives alone and claims to have lost something he cannot replace. For the homeless man on the street corner who begs for something he can call his own? Sometimes I wonder how god can be all around us? How can he be in each of us? If belief is the cloth over our eyes then god is cruel, god is jealous, god is loving and god is forgiving. But maybe that is what makes god god. God is a mirrored image of ourselves. The light and the dark. Not even god can be perfect. My mother says that in order to love something you have to realize it can be lost. In order to live, you have to realize you will die. That those glimpses of death, those moments of free fall remind us of our immortality. I realize it now. Moments of calm, moments of question, of beauty, even of death? These are the moments when we learn to live.
Posted on: Wed, 10 Sep 2014 14:26:44 +0000
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