today the cultural club in north quad had this activity where we decorate sugar skulls in honor of the dead, which is a popular mexican tradition. the girl explaining it said they don't mourn the death of a loved one, but instead focus on celebrating their life. while i'm a firm believer that mourning is a large part of death, i decorated one anyway and wrote my mom's name on it in memory of her.
and then i started thinking about the memoirs we wrote in ap lit senior year. we could write about any memory we wanted, and i immediately thought of my favorite memory with my mom. so here's the memoir i wrote. it's called "the summer of happiness".
It is a warm summer day. The sun is shining and there is a gentle breeze in
the air.
“Stephy! Lunch is here!” I
hear my mom call to me. I swim to the edge of the pool and lift myself up and
out of the water. I look around at my surroundings. I see the familiar setting
of the Country Club Pool, my second home in the summer. I scramble over to our
seats in the shade and grab a big fluffy towel that smells of countless summer
memories.
My mom is setting out my
favorite lunch as I dry off: chicken fingers, fries, extra ketchup, and a
blue-raspberry slushy. We make small talk but mostly just enjoy each other’s
company as we eat our scrumptious meals.
This is how I have always remembered spending my
summers. Almost everyday consists of swimming at the place I consider my own.
All of the lifeguards let me sit with them while on duty and the entire wait
staff knows me by name. The world did not need to be bigger than that fenced in
pool area; I had all of the happiness a girl could ask for right here.
I look at my mom sitting across from me as she holds
her latest novel in one hand and a french fry in the other. She’s wearing a big
sun hat and a protective cover up, even though we’re seated in the shade. This
is one of the changes I’ve noticed in my mother lately. The sun is her worst
enemy and sunscreen her best friend. She never explains to me why our new
favorite section has suddenly moved to the area shaded by the big Oak tree, but
I just accept the changes and don’t think much of it.
My mom looks up at me now and notices me watching
her. She smiles and puts her book down She asks me how my food is, but already
knows the answer.
“Yummy!” I tell her as I eat the last of the
fries.
I yawn widely and realize how tired I have become.
I walk over to her and sit in her lap, resting my head on her shoulder. She lies
down on the pool chair and I snuggle up in her arms.
“Mommy, will you tell me a story?” I ask her,
already feeling the calm tiredness coming over me.
So she begins my favorite fairytale, the one about
a special little princess with beautiful long hair who meets her perfect prince
and achieves all of her dreams. I drift off to sleep as her voice fills my mind
and the tranquility of the moment takes over. I could lay like that forever, a
daughter in her mother’s arms.
I awake on that same chair eleven years later on a
dreary summer day with the same long hair, except I am no longer in my mother’s
arms. It seems her darling little princess lost her protector to a demon called
cancer and those magical summers disappeared. I sit up and look around. I am
laying in our normal spot in the shade but there is no laughter to fills my
ears and no companion by my side. I lay back down and close my eyes, desperate
to see her face again, to feel her warmth, to recognize her love. But the
images are gone, washed away by the sadness that fills my mind. With a heavy
heart I realize that my memories are all I have left of my mother and the
summers we shared can only be relived in my dreams.
xoxo, stephy
