Two of Many Memories (My Memoir for English Class)
It’s Friday, the last day
of Drivers Ed, the beginning of summer vacation. The bus ride back
from Milnor
is full of noise; I hear bits and pieces of people’s summer
plans between all the laughter. I am in mid conversation as my
phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling my phone out, I see that
it’s my mom calling me. I consider ignoring it; after all
we’re almost to town. I decide to answer it anyway. Right
away I can tell that something is wrong, my mom’s voice
sounds strained and hoarse. Almost as if she’s been crying.
My stomach drops as she tells me the news. Soon I’ll learn
how precious life is, how sometimes you don’t know the value
of a moment, until it’s just a memory. My mind races with
endless thoughts. Her cancer is back? How? It’s terminal?
What does that mean? Only two years left? No! There’s nothing
that they can do? That’s not possible. That can’t be
right. No, it’s not true I think as I end the call in a daze.
My head is spinning with all of these thoughts. Barely hearing the
clueless voices and laughter of my friends and classmates, I stare
out the window. The trees, fields, and houses were all blurring
together as we drive home. Thinking to myself that I must have just
imagined that phone call, it didn’t actually happen. It
couldn’t have happened. As the school bus arrives at the
school I see my mother sitting in our old white van, her short dark
hair framing a pale, tear stained face. A cigarette was shaking in
her left hand, smoke escaping through her thin lips. Slowly I make
my way to the van, taking my time. I know that I should be running
to her, I should be trying to comfort her. Why? Why, am I taking my
time? I ask myself this, already knowing the answer. Seeing her
makes it real. I won’t be able to pretend I just imagined it
anymore. The drive to my grandma’s house is filled with a
deep silence. All of us were consumed in our thoughts. By the time
we pull into the driveway I feel like I’m going to explode.
Barely allowing my mom time enough to put the van in park, I jump
out and run across the road into the trees. My mom yells my name,
“Jordan!” but I barely hear her. My vision begins to
blur and the trees start to meld together. Away from everyone and
out of breath, I kick at a fallen tree in frustration, and then I
drop to my knees. As the dry leaves crunch under my weight,
everything hits me. There, on the ground, with only the trees
watching me I break down. Sometime later, my cousin finds me lying
on the cold hard ground, staring at the hidden sky. We walk back to
the house in silence. The only sounds filling the air are the dead
branches cracking under our feet; I don’t even hear a bird
singing. Two years later I lay in bed, listening to music.
There’s a soft, hesitant knock on my door, I almost
didn’t hear it. Then I hear my grandma’s voice quietly,
hesitantly saying “Jordan?” Her voice had cracked
slightly. I open my door, unsure of what she would be wanting at
this time of night. Now as I look at her, see the tears running
down her cheeks, the room begins to spin and the air is rushed out
of my lungs. I feel as if I cannot breathe, like someone punched me
in the stomach, as my grandmas pale lips speak the words I have
been dreading to hear for so long. Then I’m running, running
down the stairs and stumbling out the door into the dark night.
Soon the summer night is filled with my choked sobs. Gone, gone she
was gone? No, it was too soon. She can’t leave, not now. It
all just seemed like a nightmare, a terrible nightmare. None of it
seemed real. A chill ran through me as I looked up at the moon,
knowing very well it was not a dream. It has now been almost four
years since that bus ride, almost two years since my mother passed
away. Through those experiences, I’ve learned to not take
things for granted. A life can end so quickly, so easily. It has
taught me to cherish the good moments in life. These past four
years have shown me that life is most certainly not easy, but you
need to learn to enjoy the good parts anyways.
Two of Many Memories (My Memoir for English Class) It’s
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Oct 7, 2011 9:56pm