A Perfect Day

April 4, 2011
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Walking in the back yard near the creek that borders our property is where I would be. The wintry winds of Christmas Eve would carry my hair in different directions. Not that I care. My thoughts are somewhere else. Desiring the same thing I always do at Christmas, I amble to the old oak tree that fell down a few years back, pulling myself on top of the enormous trunk and balance myself as if I am a trapeze walking the tight rope. If I am to lose my footing I will fall into the frigid water beneath me. Finding my place I sit and gaze at my surroundings. Breathtaking, my own piece of heaven lays around me. I take a glimpse below me and see the snow and ice that cover the icy water that still runs. So white and calming I feel at ease. I hear water splashing in the distance. I turn and glance at the cascades of water that tenderly brushes the sides of the rocks. I sit here wishing again, hoping my one Christmas wish will come true. I want him to visit me. I crave that he comes to have a Christmas together.

I notice that my mother is summoning me .Heeding her words I follow her voice to the house. Up the slight rise of our yard I drag my feet as I feel the ridged snow pack beneath my feet. Tomorrow is Christmas and another year has gone by. Will I see him? No, he never will come. I bicker with myself as I come closer to my destination. I feel my core tighten and twinge with pain. I know it means tears are soon to come; on the contrary they do not. I am not longer able to make anymore salty liquids that would warm my ice bitten cheeks. The pain builds as if a dam. Wanting, demanding a way to escape, but none will come. I realize I am at the door and walk inside. Taking my winter garments off I pace past the living room and the kitchen as I make my way to my room, I notice it is strangely quiet. Christmas Eve my siblings are usually having fun, making cookies, and listening to music. Yet, Desiray and Chelsea are nowhere to be seen.

I hear my mother speech calmly as she ask me to come to the kitchen. Thinking I am in trouble I round the corner again to see a familiar yet foreign man.

“Dad” I say as the dam finally breaks and the tears stain my face.





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PJD17 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Apr. 23, 2011 at 9:02 pm
really great work keep it up  could you please check out and comment on my story Numb.  i would really appreciate the feedback
 
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