”This may sound gay, but I would love to drink with you.”The end of summer is always so depressing and slow. The dog days of summer I believe they’re called? Even when I was younger I remember just sensing school inching closer and closer to me. The signs would be subtle- my mom would buy me new clothes and shoes. Maybe I’d go to bed a little earlier. A few weeks later, I’d get a new back pack.. some folders.. maybe a totally awesome trapper keeper.. and the one day.. she’d announce, “Guess what? Tomorrow school starts!” and I’d burst into tears.
No, just kidding. Kind of.
It’d hit me hard, but I wouldn’t be upset about the fact that I was going back to school, just the fact that I’d have to leave my mother. Back in the day I loved school. I’d cry on the last day and throughout the entire first week of summer vacation. Later on though, I grew to REALLY enjoy my breaks and loathe those AP teachers who think its great to give a semester of homework over the summer so that they can start school as if its November already. Or those who gave long term projects over spring and winter vacations. The bitches. The whores. You know who you are.
I’m actually excited for school this year and its my last year to be able to say I go to North Canyon. It’ll be my last first day of public high school. Whoa. I’m taking a moment.
I didn’t want to get all emo/girly on ya’ll, but I had to get my Oh Em Geeze out, you dig?
College will be tough on me. I can’t imagine leaving my cozy home with private bathrooms to live in a dorm with public restrooms. I couldn’t even use the rest room at Nordstrom the other day (and they have nice bathrooms) much less sharing one with an entire floor of dirty disgusting co-eds.
Plus, I’ll miss my mommy.
I’ve always had that problem. I couldn’t even sleep over anyone’s house until I was twelve. No joke. I remember, one summer, when I was about ten, my cousin Erica who was my age, invited me to go with her and her family up to their cabin in Flagstaff for a week.
A week? Seven entire days without my mother? Are you kidding me? I nearly started to hyperventilate right at the restaurant table when they invited me. Erica was family, but I still couldn’t bear to live without my mother. I didn’t want to go in the worst way, but my mother forced me to, saying I’d have “a great time”.
I cried the entire way up to the cabin, which I was able to hide by sitting in the back of my cousin’s mini-van and putting a sweater over my head. It seemed like the best thing to do at the time. Erica and her brother Matt were fighting too much to even remember I was there anyway.
We arrived in the late afternoon, so we had dinner and watched a movie before Erica and I were sent off to bed. I had never had too much in common with the girl. She was bitchy and hated children, being young, bright colors, and anything good. And I liked all of those things, so when we were sent to bed, I really wanted to go to bed, but she thought it meant time to have a slumber party. She was so messed up, seriously.
As I lay in the dark with tears rolling down my eyes because my mommy wasn’t there to tuck me in and clutching the 90 stuffed animals I brought with me, Erica hopped on the twin bed shattering my moment of self pitty. “Let’s gab!” I recall her saying.
Gab? I may have only been ten, but I knew that no one used gab anymore. I was trying to hide the fact that I was crying, and it was dark so I was doing a damn good job of being quiet, when I made one of those sucking in weird sighs that happen when you’re crying completely giving me away.
“Oh my g0d are you CRYING?” Erica asked me as she reached for my face. I was horrified, not just because she found out I was crying, but because I don’t think she had washed her hands when she had gone to the bathroom earlier and all I could think about were the invisible flecks of pee that were now spread upon my face like butter on toast. A thick layer, I imagined, of germs. This only made me cry more and I ran out of the room to wash my face.
I was hoping Erica would leave me alone, but she just followed me to the bathroom. “Why are you crying?” She asked me as she sat down on the end of the bathtub. I looked up from the sink and into the mirror to see Erica’s reflection. She was biting her fingernails and I remember wanting to throw up. I didn’t know what to tell her. I couldn’t say I was crying because I
missed my mom. I was ten, I shouldn’t be allowed to miss my mom. I had to think. Think of an excuse. Anything.. something. “I’m afraid that my family is going to die when I’m not home.” I said matter-of-factly. And then I burst into tears again. For some reason, at that age, that lie sounded a lot better than just admitting I really missed them and would give anything to be home.
She looked at me completely confused. “Um.. they’re not going to..”
“You don’t know that!” I shot back through tears.
“You are really weird.” Erica sighed as her mom came in, my Aunt Sherri.
“What’s going on up here?” she asked.
“Stephanie’s being weird and crying.” Erica explained.
My aunt looked me up and down, “did you fall or hurt yourself or something?” she asked to which Erica burst out laughing.
“NO!” she answered for me, “She thinks her family is going to die!”
After a long talk with Aunt Sherri that included lots of crying, it was decided it would really just be best if I went home the next day.
Not to be trite or anything, but, there really is no place like home.
Quote of the day:
Stefi: my parents used to have a salt water tank
Stefi: but then they gave birth to me
Dick: at least they chose you
Stefi: I know
Stefi: how sad if they didn't!
Dick: that is a big hit to the self esteem
Stefi: seriously
Stefi: the only way to take care of that kind of blow is to sleep with as many people as possible
Dick: then I know a couple of people at NC whose parents choose the fish
-- A snippet of a conversation I had with Dick Rickettes
I hope none of my readers skimmed this. I will KEEL you.
