Monday, August 25, 2008

Summer Finale

I sit at the lake's edge,my legs ankle deep in the murky water.Tadpoles encircle my feet and race away like olympic swimmers when I kick my legs.The sun is setting and Aunt Bett is calling everyone to the picnic area,a clearing in the woods a few yards from the lake.Me and my cousin Ian don't rush,we won't have to be at the picnic tables to see the big finish.We ignore our aunt and continue to sit.

"School tomorrow," Ian says.

"We still have the afternoon," I reply lazily.

"Nope,the sun's already setting,soon as it comes up we have classes and homework and-"

"We have the night." I kind of snap at him without meaning to,but he doesn't say anything about it.He knows I'm just sulking over the end of summer vacation.

"You're right Bell,we have the whole mom wants me in bed early."

I don't pay attention because the sun,a blood red ball,rapidly sinks until it's out of view.The lightest portion of the sky is navy blue and the rest is black with globs of stars appearing around the moon like a quilt pattern.

"Everybody,everybody,get ready for the finale!Keep your eyes on the sky!" Aunt Bett's booming voice orders.

"Bell?" Ian whispers.

"Ssshh," I reply,keeping my eyes glued to the night sky,waiting,waiting,waiting-

"Here it is everybody!"

"Boom!" It sounds like a cannon goes off inches from my head, my ear canals vibrate, and the night explodes into a dozen shades of purple,green,blue,red,and orange.Smoke curls around everyone's legs and fills my nose.Additional fireworks pop and crackle and burst into flowers and twists of color.One in particular explodes directly in front of the moon so it looks like an iced sugar cookie.The sky momentarily goes blank while Uncle Will and some of the other kids prepare to launch the next batch of fireworks.

"You know what else we have Ian?"


"The Summer Finale."

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Monday, August 11, 2008

I f I See You Again

It's been a decade.You were a teenager, newly christened an adult by the government.You were short and skinny with curly black hair and highwater jeans , and I always remember the green t-shirt you wore.You rode a bike,moussed your curls and doused yourself with cologne.If I see you again I might not recognize you.
Why?Because I heard you're not a pencil anymore,you're six feet now,and your hair is so short that no one would know you once sported large,shining loops.Plus,the jeans and t-shirt are gone and your bicycle has been replaced with a four wheeled motor powered machine also known as a car.But I wonder,do you use the same cologne?If I passed you on the street would I know your scent?Salty skin masked by musky,male perfume.You probably don't.If I see you again I probably won't recognize you.
Last year I spoke with you on the phone,you sound the same, maybe a little more mature.If I was blindfolded I would know your voice.Of course I probably wouldn't need the blindfold to hinder me from identifying you,years passing might've already done the job.You don't look or dress the same,you're not the same.Neither am I.If I see you again I won't know you.

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