Rush This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   Rush

by A. D., Meriden, CT

At six every night the house is a zoo. Your mother screams from under a stew lid, "Set the table, wash you hands, get the drinks, soup's on. Bring the salt, where's the pepper? Get the napkins, hurry!" You finally sit down and stuff your face. You talk about everyone's day, occasionally there is an argument or two. This was a usual scene, yesterday. Today more often than not you stop at Mickey D's, get a hamburger, lettuce, tomato, fries, a soft drink - five bucks - a quick fix - you're gone. No hassle. No Meaning.

Spend a day in a field amidst dandelions, violets, wild orchids, and buttercups. The sun is along your back. You waste the whole day thinking about your loved one. Totally wasting it, yesterday. Today, however, it is no big deal. In your local supermarket just pick up your toilet paper and grab what you need: roses, carnations, daffodils, etc. - five bucks - a quick fix - you're gone. No hassle. No Meaning.

Ding-dong you're nervous, your palms sweat; her father answers the door and the interrogation begins. He asks, "What do you want to do for a living? Where does your father work? How are you doing in school? What is the meaning of life?" You answer to the best of your ability, though the last question he answers for you. "There will be no meaning to your life if my daughter is not home by ten. Trust me." Your date finally comes down the stairs and you are off. You take a walk in the park hand in hand; you both talk about everything under the night's sky. Dates went something like that yesterday. A far more familiar scenario today would be: You in your beat-up old station wagon drive up to the girl's house. You beep the horn and wait for your date to scramble out the front door. For the night you could see a movie (probably pointless, if you pay attention) with a bucket of greasy popcorn - ten bucks - a quick fix (for some more than others) - you're gone. No hassle. No Meaning.

We value things that are difficult, things that come easily are replaceable. I am not griping about "the good old days, the yesterdays," I'm not. Things were easily more meaningful to our parents and grandparents simply because they did not have the hindrance of technology. An obstacle you and I have to overcome if we care. For if we don't, our lives will be expendable, replaceable and without meaning. A single grain of sand like the trillion others caught in the rush of the tide.


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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