March 15, 2010
By ifiwereabell BRONZE, Cupertino, California
ifiwereabell BRONZE, Cupertino, California
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Change has 34 definitions on, ranging from a fresh set of clothing to the coins of a low domination. I’ve read through all 34 of them, but none of them shed any light on what change feels like, what change can become.

The first time I really experienced change was when I was four and half years old. My brother was born on August 27, 1998. I can only remember the love I felt for the tiny, inconsequential, helpless child who lay in my arms asleep. I was going to teach him everything; he was going to be just like me. In such innocence, change found me and granted me new prospect, new ambition, and new responsibility. Change was an older sister; change was love.
A few months later, I came home from school and found my house significantly different. Nothing had moved, nothing looked different, but everything felt altered. My mother tucked me into bed that night, skittish reciting our nightly bedtime story. As she nervously flipped the light switch and bid me adieu, I was sure something was terribly wrong. The next morning I made my way down our winding staircase to see my mother making pancakes for breakfast, incredibly suspicious considering that my father was always the one to great me with a bowl of cereal every morning.
I approached my mother and asked her, “Where is Daddy, Mummy?”
“He’s not here, Puja.”
“When is he coming back?”
“He’s not.”
“You won’t understand. You’re too young.”
Instead of crying or yelling, I insisted my mother at least answer one more question, “Why didn’t he say good bye to me?” Change had transformed into confusion, shock, and pain.

Four years ago, a woman I considered an aunt, was diagnosed with brain cancer. Two years later she died, leaving behind her sixteen-year-old son and twelve-year-old daughter. I see them from time to time, but with each passing day the somber atmosphere only becomes heavier and heavier. It is as if the tear streaks never will fade, and the memories of her only become stronger and stronger. Change became loss, change inflamed with grief.

I save everything. All things of value to me are stored within 3 binders and two boxes. Sometimes I need to remember what has changed, so what was before is not forgotten. I go back and look through the pictures, read over the journals, and trace over little trinkets from the past trying to inhale their worldly essence, trying to recreate the beautiful memories once again. I have realized that though change presents us with hurt and pain, it always gives us opportunity to learn and grow from the sorrow. The experiences give us new insight on life and make us stronger, more independent people, set on educating ourselves so we do not make the mistakes that lead to the change that stings us but to the change that brings us joy.

So, what does change really feel like? One could only attempt to explain the riveting feeling of falling into a dark world of emptiness. They maybe could try to show you the scars left from the deep cuts change gave them when reality set in. Perhaps they would sing a melody from their wedding song or show you pictures of their newborn baby. Quite possibly they would tell you of the new beginnings changed had offered them, the ones they took and ones the regret not taking. Well, I would tell you that change feels like flying. Once you let go of the fear to jump, you find yourself soaring in a new direction, maybe even a better direction than before.

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This article has 2 comments.

Lellie said...
on Feb. 24 2011 at 4:37 pm

I agree with LeanneRose.

You story is truly inspiring, thanks for this story ifiwereabell, it made me put things into perspective!

on Apr. 2 2010 at 1:39 pm
LeannaRose SILVER, Moreno Valley, California
5 articles 6 photos 43 comments

Favorite Quote:
I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you learn to appreciate them when they're right. You believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself...and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.

This is a sad story, but the way you depict it is wonderful, i got chills as i read. Keep up the good work:)

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