One Day of Him

Today I was randomly compelled to write a short, very short, story.  Yes, I can do more than write answers to questions.  Have fun interpreting it for yourself!  That's what I always loved about short stories was interpreting them for myself.  Enjoy!

One Day of Him

                It was December 13, the middle winter.  Harsh, cold winds were blowing in all directions.  She sat in her room staring out the window.  Everything is dark.  Everything is chilly.  Life seems to have faded from the cove.  The whole earth is in shadow.  Clouds swirl above devouring the blue sky and sunlight.  Hope has vanished.  Nothing is real anymore.

                She put on her jacket and pants and opened the door to hopelessness, leaving comfort and warmth behind.  She looked everywhere for him.  She rode her bike to the store down the road.  He wasn’t there.  She rode her bike to the gym.  He wasn’t there.  She rode home and got in the car and drove to church.  He wasn’t there either.  She couldn’t smell anymore because of the cold.  She returned home, sad and distraught at the loss of him.  Why did he have to leave, she thought.  Why did he leave so quickly?

                She began to reminisce on him and the things they did together: swimming, riding, running, playing, chasing.  She was chasing him still, even though he was gone.  She wondered if he’d ever be back.  When would that be?  She remembered they would climb onto the roof and lay there and talk.  Talk about anything and everything.  She knew he wouldn’t tell.  He couldn’t.  She remembered tank tops and shorts and flip flops and warm air.

                She went on the roof and tried to talk, but her words froze as they entered the cold winter air.  She watched as they fell from her mouth, down off the roof, and could hear the faint shatter of her hopeful words as they fell to the ground below.  How could this be?  She thought.  How can he just leave?  Where did he go?  Why isn’t he here?  The questions swirled in her mind like a tornado.

She missed him.  She didn’t want to give him up.  She missed him so much.  She wanted him there with her.  There again to talk.  There again to laugh.  There again to be with her.  The thing she loved most was gone.

The wind picked up and she went back inside.  She went to her room and put on her tank top and shorts and flip flops and sat by the fire.  Hoping some of him could be there with her in that warmth.  But it wasn’t the same.  It wasn’t the same at all.  It was completely different.  She was never this hot with him.  She was always just right.  Not nervous.  Not anxious.  Just relaxed and calm, together and confident.

The gray sky turned black and any form of light disappeared.  She crawled into her warm bed, still thinking of him.  Wishing he would come back for just one day.  One day where they could be together again.  One day to remind her how much she loved him.  She thought of him until she finally fell asleep.

               

She was wakened the next morning by a blinding light shining through her window.  She squinted as she threw off the covers and rubbed her eyes.  She pulled up the blinds and the sun shone on her hopeful face.  She closed her eyes tight and squished her face together like she was making a wish, and then opened the window.  Eyes shut she felt something familiar.  A warm breeze tickled her face and the faint smell of him entered her nostrils.  A huge smile formed on her ecstatic face.  He was back.

She immediately put on her tank top and shorts and flip flops.  She ran downstairs to her bike and rode all around town.  He was at the store.  He was at the gym.  He was at church.  She rode home and climbed to the roof.  Words flowed out of her mouth like a new spring of water.  Her eyes were brighter than ever.  She talked about the warmth she felt.  She talked about the breeze and the sunny sky.  The liveliness he brought to her.  She could hear people working in their yards again.  Grass was being mowed and hedges were being cut.  She was as happy as she could be with him.

She kept talking and talking.  Suddenly a loud wind interrupted her.  She paused and looked at him confused.  He told her he could only stay for today, and that he had to leave tomorrow.  Her smile turned into a frown.  He then reminded her that he would be back again in just a few months.  She didn’t want him to leave again.  But she was happy to have him back for a day.  She was happy to see him again.  She was glad she got to have even one day of him.

Why do we try to impress our guests?

Today was my cousin's birthday celebration and so we picked up one of her friends and went to a movie and stuff.  Once this girl got in the car all the cousins immediately began talking about stuff they'd done.  Stuff like what they did at Disney World and that they went to Disney World and which princesses they saw and then that turned into jokes they knew and that turned into a competition to see who could make this girl laugh.  It made me think of how all of us act when we have guests in our homes.  We do all kinds of crazy things to prepare for their arrival and that made me think, why do we try to impress our guests?

Whenever we would have guests to my house, my parents would basically turn the place upside down.  It was madness.  The house had to be perfect and we all had to look perfect.  But why?  Were we trying to make these people think we were the perfect family?  That our house looked like this all the time?  That the kids never faught?  That there were no merital problems between the parents?  Obviously we don't want people thinking we're an awful family, but do we want them to think we're nothing less than perfect?

I know when my mom goes to people's houses, it's kind of a settling feeling when their house is messy because it means they're just like her.  (Mom, if you're reading this, I'm sorry I just told everyone our house is messy.  It's actually not that bad everyone...)  When we see other people's kids fighting we feel better because our kids aren't the only ones.  So if everyone actually is like everyone else in those ways, why do we feel the need to cover all that up?  Is it so they think we're better than them?  Is it so we can feel like we're better than them?  Either way we come off as snobs, don't ya think?

I know in the South its polite to make your house look excellent for our guests, but its the feeling we try to give the guests and the feeling we try to give ourselves that makes it a bad symbol.  Sometimes its good to let people see the crap in your house, or even your life.  In some ways it's actually more polite to leave your house a little messy to make the guests feel better about their house.  I bet they'll even mention that they're glad your house is kind of messy too. 

My challenge today is to not try to impress your guests with your awesomeness, but try to make them feel good about themselves.  That is what people love right?  To feel good about themselves?  Many of you probably don't own a house but you do have guests of some sort so try that next time you're with them.  Don't focus on what makes you better than them, but try to focus on what makes them better than you.  It will be hard, but it's a small way to challenge yourself everyday.  Competition is good!  Use it to your advantage.

Why do we worry?

I had some extra time on my hands today and I wanted to get in an early December post.  Originally I thought of answering "why do we care what other people think? but my mind is to occupied to think about something that complex.  But a small part of caring about what other people think is worrying.  When something bad happens, the cool kids say "it is what it is."  Because that statement is absolutely true.  You get in a car crash.  There's nothing you can do to go back in time or to magically fix the car before someone finds out.  The weird thing is that after something bad happens, AFTER, we worry.  Why do we worry?

Let me ask you this, has worrying ever made you feel any better?  If you answered yes, you're lying.  Worrying does nothing but waste time and make you feel worse.  We're all guilty of it.  We're worried about what we got on a test even though we already took it and there's nothing we can change about it.  We're worried about what someone will think of our outfit even though we've already put it on and are currently wearing it around people.  We're worried about whether this person likes us or not even though we're about to go to a movie and there's absolutely no backing out now.  Things are what they are.  So you got an 88, NOTHING can change that except maybe random and rare post test extra credit.  So someone thought you looked weird.  It's not like that's all they thought about the entire night.  If they did, they're weirdos.  So you didn't get a second date.  Nothing you can do about that either.  Worrying is pointless.

The creator of the universe even said "worrying does not add a day to your life."  He's right.  However, if worrying did add time to our lives, it would be a good idea to worry a LOT.  But since it does not, worrying is useless and pointless, in fact, it takes away days of your life.  Think about all you could be doing instead of worrying!  Think of all the places you could go! The movies you could watch! The books you could write on worrying!

Being an introvert, I worry a fair amount before I do something.  I'm always telling myself to just do and not worry.  Just say what you're thinking and stop analyzing how people will analyze it.  If you say it, it's out there and its either weird or funny or boring or racist or stupid, but you said it and it's over.  People will think about it for a minute tops.  After that no one will remember it.  Unless it was funny.  Or racist and funny.  Anyway the whole point of this is to get you to challenge yourself to not worry.  A great way to replace worrying is to work.  They both start with the same three letters but one of them creates greatness and one of them creates laziness and sadness and wastes time.  I'm pretty sure I would choose greatness over those other things.  As my aunt Greta would say, "I'm just sayin..."