Young Writers Society

28 May 2009

Finally. I'm a senior. I have only one year left in high school. And I'm looking forward to it.

Officially a senior. Lieutenant Colonel, the Battalion Commander in JROTC, and Rifle Team Captain. Band Captain. National Beta Club convention, and my last State. At least six honor's cords...thus far. And ranked tenth in a class of one-sixty-one. Not too bad a start, if I say so myself.

But the facts from then are history. I have only the future to look forward to.

Like the fun I had at Fay's house, having driven directly there after school. Wrestling with a two-hundred-pound dog certainly spent the energies built by excitement. Climbing into a willow and then falling into a lake before being tackled again by said dog, right back into the water, made the eighty-five degree weather grand. Army Combat Uniforms are good for one thing, for certain: holding water and serving as personal air conditioners...

But tonight was something more important. Graduation. My chance to say goodbye to everyone before me, like Kelly - the Commander I succeeded - and Lacey - the sister I never had - and Terry - a fellow artist. Sherman, John, Dylan - the class clowns. And Christian - God, the dancer! I could only watch him perform, completely freestyling off the top of his head, in awe...

And I am proud to say I gave them a tribute: I marched with the JROTC Color Guard, in my predecessor's stead. Where Kelly normally stood, marching in the squad, I stood. I bore her Colors, the Colors she has passed to me. And I feel good about it; I showed them - all of the seniors, now graduates - that I care, by being there and doing my best for them. Toward them. In honor of them.

And then my task was done. Then we got the phone call. The one that put a shock in my spine...

My grandmother has had a stroke. Deja vu has fallen over me, for this time last year, at the beginning of June, my father's mother died. By a stroke.

One hell of a way to start your senior summer vacation.

At least I have David, my boyfriend of nine months. I called him, and he was there. Not even ten minutes later. His parents were another story, dragging as if reluctant to be at the hospital, visiting my family, and it infuriated us both. But David's words, as always, were the only comfort I needed.

"God works in mysterious ways. But He didn't take her. Whatever He is planning, He knows what He's doing, and we can trust Him. And as for my mom, I see how selfish she is. Wanting to leave and feed herself the minute we arrive... I'll admit, I'm hungry myself, but with you like this... Hell, yeah, I'm coming, and I'm staying."

That was the only the second time I've ever heard him swear. The first being at the spring musical when an entire scene fell apart because of clumsiness and faulty sound systems...

But I raise my hands in Amen to that. Now, I just pray everything will be all right.

Now, time for bed...if only I could make myself sleep. I'm so upset I'm wide awake, alert... But I have physical therapy for my knee tomorrow morning. Another pain to deal with...wonderful...