Green

The pear shaped pod delicately hung onto the tree, as the hot sun beared down, my grandma plucked the fragile fruit off the branch, tossing it down into the sewn bag I held up. The tree, nurtured by my grandparents, was strong with thick roots entrenched in the fertile soil. The tree hid in a forest of green, confined only to the backyard, with dots of light pink flowers swaying with the leaves. Winter Melon resting on the pillars above my head, and string beans dancing on vines across the fence. 

The green brings me back to the late afternoons when I plunged myself onto the chair, melting from the heat. Without asking, my grandma would hand me a piece of china, a warming grin on her face, the plate with vibrant green and pink fruits displayed across. Lush waterapple snapped as I munched into it, releasing the aromatic essence and love into the air. Green, the sight of cherished memories and comfort.

The Garage

Sitting at the creaking seat under the luminescent light was my grandma, intricately creating something that was once nothing, through each stitch which the sewing machine could barely give. The barrels of thread twirled as the sharp needles pranced up and down like a ballerina. The sewing machine was in the garage, surprisingly with the lingering smell of must and laundry detergent, was my sanctuary. As a kid I would always sit on top of the cool freezer on a warm day, playing with my McDonald’s figurines. The freezer felt like mountains of ice and snow, clashing with the warm fiery touch of my skin. My grandparents, they’d always think I was upstairs. I was dressed in flowy shorts, which my grandma put together from scraps of navy scrubs, elastic, and thread. Nowadays, I go in the garage whenever my mom needs to tailor her clothes. Riding the way too small bikes, decorated with princess stickers, which once fit. And rummaging through the basket of small shorts I once hauled around in.

The Game Of Life

I spun a seven, the lucky and unlucky number seven. Every year before the New Year’s countdown, my cousins and I would play the game of life, determining what the luck and fortune the next year held for us.

 “Career path, or Family path?” My cousin questioned. 

I sighed to myself, knowing that life is a gamble. I’ve always felt as if I never knew what to do with mine. I felt as if I was in the board game, except for each move, I chose a different path, the wrong path. The path that leads to the million dollar fines, or back to the start. 

The path of life, it isn’t easy, but I just hope. I hope I am never what people expect. I hope I can stop hiding behind a facade. I hope that I will one day make it to the end of the board game. I hope I will always trust my intuition, so I chose the Career path, and then rolled again, the lucky number seven.

Jelly

My sister, Muh Jelly, my Jelly. At least that’s what I call her. The strawberry jam to my peanut butter, only I occasionally like PB&Js. She’s like a hermit crab. I’ve only ever seen her come out of her room to eat, or brush her teeth. Otherwise, she would go right back in. I poke my head through her door every night, to see her sitting in her chair, in the dim light, dedicated, hunched over studying. Jelly is like a princess, with soft eyes and inimitable gold jewelry which dangled around her neck, fingers, and ears. She’s eager to see the world yet she’s trapped within the walls of her shell, the walls of her kingdom. Never sure what she wanted.

The Bigger Picture

Staring into the blurry ocean of blue waves, I never stepped back to admire the entire view. It turns out, all that was needed was focus. Well I finally did, I distanced myself further from the sea that consumed me, the rope like kelp which winded around my legs, binding me to the deep waters. I used the jagged shells around me to cut the kelp’s hold loose.

I trudged through the shore, and finally reaching the muddy sand. Finally seeing the whole picture. The little shells that hugged the sand, the bright golden horizon. The sun shone on my bare arms, as the wind tickled through me. I was able to feel the warmth of the sun, the breeze of the winds. At that moment, nothing was bringing me down. But when the night falls, the tides will rise, and I’ll be in the ocean once again.