My Continuations

Our mouths dropped and a blanket of anxiety wrapped around us. This was it.
"Kill it!!!"
One point away. Four of my teammates and myself instinctively got low to cover as our captain jumped up in perfect position. The moment was in slow motion. The anxious crowd's breath hit us like a heat wave. As if hosting the tournament game wasn't great enough, we actually had a chance of winning it. Ready to cover, we stared intently at the ball. After everything we were told during practices, this was definitely the time to apply them. Anythings could go wrong: a mishit, a tip, a net touch.

Chritina's hand followed through. Slap! The referee's whistle blew. Tears ran down everyone's faces.

I could tell it was coming. Anyone could. His cold and hallow glance said it all.
It wasn't fair. Being cheated on...then dumped? Every single type of emotion swarmed within me. How was it my fault when all I did was trust and all he did was lie. Picturing it in my mind, I felt sick to my stomach. Sitting there alone in the dark, I felt paralyzed.
Vulnerability had accompanied what I thought was love.

You build up all these defenses and a whole suit of armor so nothing can hurt you. Constantly telling yourself "The wall's not coming down." Then one stupid person, no different then any other, wanders into your life. You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or hold your hand, and then your life isn't your own anymore.

I felt paralyzed. All I could do was stare out of the window for what seemed to be eternity.
I've always loved the atmosphere of hospitals, but that day was different. The tears were unending.
Cancer, the only word I heard from the doctor. I couldn't handle it. Questioning God as if my answers would be found in the street lights, I stared. I stared at anything but her:the t.v., the window, the nurse, my mother.

Why? The common question that God has to deal with on a "milisecond" bases.

After her living with us for five years, the house felt empty without her presence during her stay at the hospital. "Grandma's going to be okay..." my mother reassured me.

And she was.

The six a.m. phone calls stopped. Why was he doing this...
Waking up to his voice had become a ritual for the past few months. He made me happy. I couldn't imagine my morning without it. Royalty had become engraved in my mind. I was his princess.

Then one day it ended.
"Ahh, it's already 8!!!" Showering then rushing out of the door with my uniform half on, I ran to catch the next bus. After collecting my thoughts and organizing myself I stared out of the window. "Wait." Frantically searching for my phone, I checked the envelope icon on the screen. It read: "I messed up."


Waking up to his voice was no longer a ritual. He no longer made me happy. I couldn't imagine my morning without an alarm clock. I was his princess.




But apparently not his queen.

Pieces of ripped up envelope covered the kitchen floor as the house phone rang off the hook.
"Thank you Lord!!!!!" shouted my mother. Tears ran down our faces. All the hard work, all the dedication, paid off. All the praying and church support, paid off. Unable to stop moving, the world was called. The 10 aunts in Canada and the 8 aunts in New York. The cousins in Haiti and the uncles in Florida. News traveled fast as close friends and relatives called the house.

The crumpled letter caught my attention, and once again I read.
"We welcome Macda Gerard to our Trinity Catholic community and are pleased to offer her a full scholaship"