Soaring Through Sadness | Teen Ink

Soaring Through Sadness

December 10, 2015
By balletlove7 SILVER, Manhasset, New York
balletlove7 SILVER, Manhasset, New York
9 articles 0 photos 1 comment

She was a sweet, and bright young girl. Pale, with rosy-orange hair, bright blue eyes and deep dimples that showed with every smile she gave. Though she didn’t have a huge variety of clothes, she always would try to wear the few sunny, decorative dresses she owned with a pair of nylon-tights and her beat up dress shoes wherever she went. She had a strong passion for learning, and enjoyed every moment she spent at school. From her local public school in her small town Alderson, Oklahoma, she loved everything about learning, and life. Especially science. Science truly fascinated her. Even at the young age of four- she was entranced by everything she saw. Every ant crawling about, and every blue-bird she observed, soaring and chirping in the air. 

“So free,” she thought.  “I want to be like those birds,” she would always whisper to herself.

An Urgent Time
By the time Millie Anclarson reached fifth grade, her parents had devastating news. She wasn’t able to attend her local school anymore. Her dad looked into her teary eyes, trying to form the words that would explain to her why, but his mouth just quivered into a state of blankness.
Tears began to swiftly stream down Millie’s swollen face, and her dad made an effort to explain to her why, “Millie...Millie please, blueberry, don’t cry.”
“That’s what I’m always told to do: not cry…But tears keep on coming.” She peered into her dad’s flustered face, her words sounding so blubbery and unclear.
“Ok, then, release all your emotions, tell me everything… how it feels, and what we can do to make you better.” Her dad replied, eyes searching her face to see a smile. Millie’s mom gradually shuffled into the room, and took a place text to Millie, rubbing her shoulder, whispering into her ear, “Millie, I know it’s hard, lovebug, but it will be okay. I promise, everything will be okay.” Both parents knew she loved school. Millie’s local school, was like a second home to her. That night she continued to weep quietly to herself, her pretty dresses astray her small, light yellow room, which the color always reminded Millie of the sun. An early night in September. It was cool and calm, with the sun almost setting. Millie didn’t want the weather to be as beautiful as it was. Instead she wanted rain, thunder, and for colossal bolts of lightening in the sky to strike the nearby school. For a huge storm to pass. But although she was flustered and heartbroken, she peacefully drifted off to sleep. “I will be an idiot. An uneducated and poor idiot”, she thought. If only she remembered her dream the next morning.
Feeling Worse
When Millie reached the age of fifteen, her mother and father had discussed their financial situation with her. They were hardly making enough money to pay their taxes, and to put food on the table. Millie still could not comprehend why they couldn’t find a different job, or work more hours. But she knew that in the area she lived in, jobs were scarce, and many families were struggling with the same issues her family was.
“Millie, dear, there is a local farm a mile or so away from our home… they are offering jobs in milking the cows, and harvesting the crops they have there. Please, Millie, it would help us out so much if you could work there just a few hours a day.” Her mother begged, watching Millie grab the carton of milk from the fridge.
Millie sighed, disappointment fulfilling each word she spoke,  “Fine, whatever. I can’t have a basic education, and now I get to work fields.”
“Blue-bird, I understand its hard...” her father genuinely expressing sympathy, calling her by her nickname, as he sunk down into the creaking wooden chair. He didn’t know how to finish his sentence, when he came across his daughter’s glassy eyes.
She sighed once again, “It’s fine, I know times are difficult.” she tried to plaster a small grin across her face.The next morning, she awoke, ate a quick apple, and walked a mile straight until she arrived at an old, yet relatively large farm. 
“I don’t think I’ll ever be like those birds.” But she walked in anyways, trying to endure what she could.
I Think I Love Him
Working in the field for a few months now meant nothing to Millie. She just worked- milking cows, collecting corn, earning a little over four dollars a day. She sulked every morning, pulling the
weeds near the crops in the vast field, thinking about attending school again. But ever since families struggled with making money, the tax for school just went up. She knew it wasn’t possible. As she continued to pull more and more weeds, she accidentally bumped into another boy her age. Tall and freckled, with locks of auburn hair, a tint darker than hers. 
“Sorry,” they both exclaimed at the same time, then giggled together right after.  “What’s your name?” He asked, admiring her bright grin, along with her gleaming, cornflower blue eyes.
“I’m Millie, and you?” she blushed, eyeing him up and down, noticing his tan freckles.
“I’m Simon.” he cracked a smile.
“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Simon.” she blushed and smiled while shaking his hand,
“I don’t think I’ve seen your face ‘round here before”, his rather bright and southern voice cheered, “Are you from the area?” 
“Yes. Just a quick mile away, and I come here because I love working with animals and helping out.” she lied. She was too embarrassed to tell him the reason she worked there was to try and earn some money for her family- even though Simon looked pretty rusty, with an old shirt, ripped jeans, and a pair of shoes that looked two sizes too tight. But Millie still liked him, just for that reason. And she knew too, she couldn’t possibly embarrass herself in this situation. 
“Well we better get back to work.” Millie politely said, a small smile spread across her face.
“I agree, Millie. I’ll meet you here tomorrow.” Damon, looked at her eyes for another moment, then turned to walk to another section of the field.
“Bye!” She blushed again, and with a wave behind his head, Simon slowly walked out with a hoe, and wiped the sweat smearing his face.

Gloom
Millie knew she would encounter many struggles in her life from the situation she was already in. Her sorrowful life, made her think more and more about how deprived of an education she was, though she was pretty bright herself. Yet she still faced periods of self-pity, her sorrowful eyes often swelling up.
“Stop those tears,” she violently whispered to herself, “Look at how blessed you are. You have a beautiful son, whose bond sets you free like blue-birds with his sweetness, and his eyes, and few strands of hair remind him of you... Simon  always provides support for you,and you are sure to have everlasting happiness with him. After all, you did marry him…” she advised herself. “Stop crying Millie, and pull your thoughts together.”  Her tears gradually stopped slipping down her face. She was often eager when she thought about everything that needed to be done. Stress constantly built up within her, and she felt trapped in her own mind, as if some sort of wretched sadness took over her soul. The gloomy, mid-March day, was where she truly felt loss.
The eerie, foggy night had continued to progress and created a rainy mist in the darkness. A few gleaming stars would electrify certain parts of the dim sky. Millie pondered more and more as to why her parents hadn’t arrived home. She was in utter confusion. Simon was a little concerned but he didn’t allow his worry to cross his tired face. Damon started to bawl again, louder this time, and Simon tended after him. Millie stayed wide awake by the front door, hoping to see her parents’ rusty, red Fotolia come around the bend and make an abrupt stop, and then slowly pull into their gravel filled driveway. It didn’t approach. Millie’s eyes widened. She started to shiver at all the possibilities. “Were they lost? Did they get injured on the way? Was there just traffic?” Her heart began to beat faster and faster and an icy chill trickled down her spine, as she heard three fast knocks at her front door. She quickly opened it, Simon rushing down the steps to observe the scene.
“Millie Anclarson?” A cop approached with a few papers, and a ballpoint pen he gripped tightly in his fist.
“Yes, Officer… Mason?” she wobbily read his badge,“Yes, ma’am. I’m here to inform you about an accident both of your parents were involved in tonight. Well it was very severe, and… and the contact was at a level where it impacted them so greatly, unfortunately...they, they passed away.”
“They’re dead?!” She sobbed, her hands shaking, covering her mouth. “But how?” Her voice sounded so broken and shocked.
Simon rushed to her side and stroked her frizzy blond curls. “Millie, please. Don’t cry.” But seeing her in so much agony, even caused his relatively unexpressive face to turn a little red, a few tears sliding from underneath his thin eyelashes.
“I’m so sorry,” the officer’s emerald eyes displayed genuine grief and sympathy for her loss, “It was a wild, young teenager- 17. He switched lanes too soon, colliding with your parents’ car. They were thrown out of it, and their bodies seemed to have jerked, and jolted. It was very severe. Once again, I’m so so sorry.”
“Thank you for the information, and for your sympathy, officer.” Simon instantly replied.
“Anytime, folks. My condolences to you both. If you want to know more about the scene later, please feel free to contact, Alderson’s Local Police Department and ask to speak with Mason Garvey- that’s me. Anyway, I wish you both the best.”

Love Notes
Finally a time approached where  Millie was elated. The day arrived where she and her family would leave their small farm move to New York- the land of opportunity. Millie was leaving her life of farming, and working fields, living a serene, and happy life, to start her own farm in Upstate New York, producing everything she could. She wanted to leave Oklahoma for awhile, ever since her parents died from the terrible car crash, yet she never had the money. But she had saved up for years, working different fields, with Simon, and earning money in other ways. A small home was already debated upon, and decided by Millie and Simon that it was the right place to start a new chapter in their lives as parents, and to make enough money to support themselves. There was a lot of land, and a farm already there. So it was decided. 
“New York, here we come.”
Speechless
It was just another foggy, rainy day in New York. Their son, 20 years old now, was off in college a few hours away, specializing in engineering. The farm had been a success. Millie and Simon were innovative. All their products were handmade, and of good quality, and transported throughout New York and some other states too. It was an easy life, easy days. But this day… this day was a little different. It started off as usual, a quick phone call to Damon, Simon and Millie talking about how proud they were of him, and wishing him the best in another great year. Another September day, the first week of school already passed. 
“We love you Damon...Continue to make us proud.” Millie and Simon alternating as they spoke to him. They were 40 now. Both parents still energetic and lively. Simon went to work in the field that morning. He was shoveling dirt to create new beds for their crops. He heaved at the moist soil, searing rays of the morning sun on his spine, sweat dripping from the bottom of his beard, and he panted heavily. But something changed in him. He felt as if he was punched in the throat. He couldn’t speak- on the ground now, gasping for words. He was suffering a stroke. He tried to talk but nothing happened. No air. Memories of his life and journey seemed to swirl around his head like a slow motion picture album-each page flipping by. He thought he heard Millie’s voice, but he was hallucinating. A few more moments passed, as he struggled to live, but his heart had stopped. So sudden. Dead, sprawled across the dirt.
Fluttering Minds
Damon was all grown up- stock and sturdy, like his dad was, and had appealing features like his straw blond hair, and blue eyes that glimmered like Millie’s did. Now both Millie and Damon were in Gregory Yelding’s office, Damon pacing around the compact room, awaiting his arrival, while Millie started to feel frustrated.
“The birds, they they are in my mind. Get them out!” She exclaimed,
“Mom, what is it?” His deepened voice replied, filled with concern.
The door swung open, and a middle-aged man with a few white hairs scattered throughout his thick head of hair bursted in the room. “How is everyone today?” His voice cheered.
“Who, who are you?” Question imbedded in every word Millie spoke.
“I am doctor Yelding. I have some questions for you, Millie. And Damon, you as well.” He turned rather stern, and instantly became focused on what was wrong with Millie.
As a series of questions on age, lifestyle and background were asked, and Millie grew more confused, doctor Yelding concluded their visit. He asked they return home, and thanked them for their time.
“Damon, I need to speak with you for a moment.”
“Yes? What is it? Do you know what the issue is with my mom?” Worry filling up his over-eager eyes.
“I have a few ideas, one of them is that she may have dementia. This is a rather severe mind disease, and Millie already seems to be at a serious stage of it.”
Damon wrinkled his forehead, and blurted out a response, “No. I mean she can’t have that...I can’t lose my other parent too.”
“Damon, it is important you don’t focus on the severity here. Instead, I ask you focus on enjoying whatever time you have left with Millie. It is rather common among older citizens, and I advise you to enjoy Millie and whatever you have left with her. Thank you.”
And with that, he was called into another room, to tend to another patient. Damon sat there with a blank expression on his face, as he watched Millie continue to pace around the room, her bony body travelling in circles around a wooden chair.
“Mother, lets leave. We are ready to go home now, okay?” But she kept pacing, squirming, mentioning the birds in her mind, and how she was trapped at how they kept on fluttering in different directions. Millie motioned each one.

 

Where is he?
As time continued to progress, Millie grew old, depressed, and mourned on her husband’s death ever since she found him, lifeless, and still, along the soft dirt. She would often cry, and then forget about what she was crying about. Luckily, Damon would tend after her when he could after a day’s work as an engineer- fixing minor issues in nearby houses. As this winter day continued to drag on, and the biting cold nipped at Millie’s ankles while she was out, Millie started to be filled with concern. It was almost 6:30. Damon usually arrived home at around 6:00. He wasn’t there. Millie wanted to call him, but she forgot his number. She tried to read his number he wrote on the post-it on the fridge, but she was in utter confusion. 
“What is 6...What does this mean?”  No response. She dropped the phone on the linoleum floor.
Lost
Millie grabbed her thin, vintage cloak, and ventured outside to the local police station. It had been a week since Millie had seen her son, but then she thought maybe it was only a few hours. 
“Hello there Millie, can we help you?” 
She paused. “Yes. I am Millie Anclarson,” she said wobbily, ignoring the fact the police officer already knew who she was, “My son. My son Damon. No Simon. No my son Damon. He’s lost. Haven’t seen him in a full week.” she exclaimed, frustrated and out of breath. 
“Yes, ma’am, I see. And how old is your son?” The police officer calmly asked. 
“23. No 44. NO 16! What are these numbers? I know... 23.” She was exasperated. She started to feel dizzy, frightened, and hopeless. The police officer’s face filled up with concern, and he was unsure of what to think of Millie’s vague response.  
“He’s gone.” she abruptly started to sob. “He’s gone, and I don’t know where… or how…”
“Listen, I’m sure your son is at work. He will be home soon.” The man started jotting down information on his pad. After a few moments, he said,  “Millie, we will take you home in one of our police cars. Everything will turn out alright, I’m sure.”

Drifting Off
Now a hot summer day, Millie tried pulling her thoughts together once more. She wanted her son. But she kept forgetting him, and what happened to him, and where she even was. She missed his dirty blond hair, his sweet, savory voice.  Millie was now placed in a nursing home with a few of her possessions, 45 minutes from her old farm. She sat in a rocking chair, lost in her world of confusion, rocking back and forth. Tears began to form again in her sweet eyes. She didn’t know why. She looked at the vibrant birds soaring over the thick tree branches, dainty blossoms collected along the twigs off the edges of each of them. 
“Birds those...Be like those birds, I want to be.” Her words all jumbled up, and her mouth thinning to a smile. Tears dripping off her wrinkled chin,  “Free” She whispered, hands folding over her lap, and so gently, she slowly closed her eyes.



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