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"Come Over Here, Princess"

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"Come over hear, princess." said the "it" lying on the bed. "It's alright, sweetie, don't be afraid." This lady was wearing elaborate, flowered, "Grandmother Style" pajamas and had bags under her eyes. Her face had not a single wrinkle excepts for smile lines. "Princess..." the lady talked as if speaking to a dog.
I knew who it was, I was just not believing it. Her long, voluminous dark hair had completely thinned and was turning gray. We could not go anywhere in public without people staring at us. So what, I thought. She is bald. Haven't you ever seen a bald lady? But the bags under her eyes and the tears in mine gave our secret away to some people. Yet still they starred at us like we were celebrities, which we weren't.
It was as if I was wearing a shirt that said "My Aunt Has Cancer and She is Going to Die", literately everybody everywhere knew and they were always asking how she was. I always said fine and changed the subject. I could not admit to myself that things were not fine.
She came to every basketball game, every musical and every school play. Before the cancer, people would always stare at how beautiful she was. Whenever she spoke they would all turn their heads to give her there full attention. She deserved that. After the cancer, the always stared because she was bald or becoming bald, but she never tried to hide being bald. There was hardly ever a moment where she was too tired to be her normal self.
At school a few weeks after the school play, everyone, by everyone I mean teachers, parents, students, people I had never met where noticing me in the halls and saying "I am so sorry." Polly, my Aunt, had Cancer for five years. Whenever someone randomly told me sorry I wanted to snap back "Don't be sorry, it's not your fault."
When I went to put on my make up in
the restroom before homeroom, I noticed how much I looked like her. How we had the same eyes, nose, mouth and used to even have the same hair. I was never ashamed of standing up at the end of a play and saying "That's my Aunt!" And she always clapped loudest at the end of every play.
They announced it right before our schools last show of the play "Wicked". It was Aunt Polly's favorite. The moment my principal announced her death, I felt one stray tear wipe down my face. My principal let me say some words.
I said, "My Aunt Polly loved the play Wicked. She would have been here today, sitting in the front row right in the middle with a video camera." Her normal seat was unoccupied today. Everyone was laughing behind tears. "Let's make this the best production of Wicked Polly has ever seen." Everyone clapped.
It was then, at that moment, that I heard someone else's voice intertwined with mine. I heard Polly's. No matter how many school plays I have, Polly will always be center front row in my life. She would be proud of me today. The entire cast attended her funeral. At the end of it, I walked up to the closed casket and said confidently "That's my Aunt!" I could have never been more proud of Polly as I was that day. And I will always be proud of her because she is my aunt and i am sorry.





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