Selected+Works

This I Believe: Love When I was a kid my mother was going through a Nora Ephron phase, naturally I was raised on “You’ve got mail” and “Sleepless in Seattle.” And even though I was only six, I really absorbed what I saw. I imagined myself growing up to be the quirky Meg Ryan, but with brown hair, and meeting a charming Tom Hanks look-a-like who will love each and every one of my idiosyncrasies. Even though I’m only 18, I know now that it’s much more complicated than that. But one smidge of my childhood has stuck with me. In “Sleepless in Seattle” Tom Hanks delivers a monologue about his dead wife, something that has always touched me. “I knew it the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home... only to no home I'd ever known... I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew. It was like... magic,” he says. I cry every time. I always felt like this is what love would be like, and when I encountered my first love this is how I felt. When you love someone there’s a sense of comfort. You feel like you’re home when you’re around them. And with him, I really felt that. It was long distance, but when he was here…those were the happiest days I’ve had. That person and I ran our course but that doesn’t make me bitter or cynical about love. Some things aren’t built to last. Even now, when I’m with someone new that sense of comfort and safety that I felt with him is the standard. It’s kind of nice to know that Tom Hanks was right. Love is like coming home.

Short Fiction Story-

I lay in the sun all day that day. Letting it ripple through me, not minding the scorch of my skin. I ignore my mother’s calls for me to come back in and the sound of my father’s mower in the front yard. The sun’s warmth illuminates me. The breeze sweeps through me and carries me, away to somewhere else. The trees stand tall and strong next to me, their roots reaching up and under me like steady arms. The grass tickles my back teasingly. The ants peep out to climb on my skin. The musky smell of pine is in the air. All of this beauty, and my eyes are on the sky. The blue Carolina sky spread above me. I watch whispers of clouds move in it. I watch jet planes fly through it, leaving trails of spiraly clouds. I watch the birds move over, their wings cutting the sky as they glide by. I watch my own hands move through it, bending the light and picking clouds out of the sky. And soon, as I see the twilight shadows blanket my own body and the sun sink down to it’s home in the trees, the sky turns pink. I lean my head back and close my eyes. There are somethings in life, that every time we see them, or feel them, we think of somebody. Some that embrace a whole new significance, a lifetime of memories…or maybe just a moment. For me, the rosy sky of North Carolina was always you.

Personal Sketch He has a genuine smile, one that he wears a lot. He dresses like no one else, so much himself that when you watch him you're inspired. His hair is red and cut into a short mohawk. He is very friendly, and unafraid to share his opinion. He ties his bow ties around his neck, very unique.

Where I'm From I am from tight swimcaps and foggy goggles from Nike and Speedo I'm from the small brickhouse hidden by ivy and tall oaks The magnolia tree that we would climb to etch in our names, whose long limbs I remember as if they were my own

I'm from the roses by the stars and the comfort of a book From Naomi Jones and Granddaddy Bud I'm from my brother always climbing and my brother always still I'm form my busy mother and my bicycle riding father

I'm from the bikerides that loop to the school yard and minding the sidewalk on airport road I'm from the old, knowing stones of the cross I'm from the bushel of trees, big and small, in Chapel hill flinstones pushpops and Charlie's won-ton soup From my grandfathers cracked old hand that took the glass from a man at war.

I'm from the reassurance that things change but they go on.

What's in your pocket? Apparently, while Christmas shopping my mother decided to suddenly fancy The Body Shop, as is evidenced by my bajillion stocking fillers from there. I actually like the body shop, it smells nice and I like the pictures of trees on the walls. But I do not like my //wild// cherry lip butter. It’s one of those products that has a misleading name and that I’m sure my mother bought with the best of intentions…but it smells horrible. I’ve never smelled an actual wild cherry myself, but I’m pretty positive they don’t smell like this. While the suggested smell is misleading, the “butter” part is pretty accurate, and probably the only reason I haven’t given it away. It really hydrates my lips, which is great because in winter they’re constantly chapped. But isn’t the point of lip balm is for it to smell good while also hydrating your lips? Also, now that I’m looking at it, it has pictures of APPLES on the front and not cherries. Now I’m //done//. I’ll stick to my Burts Bees that smells good, hydrates my lips, and knows how to label things.

Family Tales Contrary to whatever their clever and heartwarming commercials may lead you to believe, Disney World is not the most magical place on Earth. Disney World is also not a paradise vacation. Disney World is a test. A test of you and your family’s patience, compassion, and temper. I know this is a broad statement, and that some people love Disney World and return year after year for the seasonal discounts. But for my family is it the world of temper tantrums, heat exhaustion, and melt downs. While there are several stories I could tell about the horrors I’ve seen there…all of them making a summer tour in Vietnam seem like a sunny vacation, I have chosen to tell the tale of one specific day at Disney World. It all started with the drive down. The first problem with Disney World is it’s location. My family being the cheap skates we are, we drive. And if after a twelve hour drive with four other people in a Honda Civic you’re not ready to slap someone to next week (as my mother says) I’d say you were on something. However, once we arrived and marched into the park my mother tried her best to convince us all to cheer up. “Oh my gosh! Disney World!” She says as if it wasn’t her fifth time seeing it. “Oh my gosh! Lines!” My dad replies. To understand the Smith family dynamic you simply need to look at the above lines. Enthusiasm is quickly put down by sarcasm. Although, the rest of the day went pretty smoothly compared to our past visits. By nighttime we ad park hopped over to Epcot just in time for the fireworks. We had had a successful day free of tears and temper tantrums, but it wasn’t over yet. We stood, overlooking the Epcot lake and waited for the fire works to start. “Oh, I’m so excited,” my mother said, beaming. The fireworks and parades were her favorite part of Disney World, she didn’t even ride the rides. The lights all went out and the crowed was hushed, the fireworks we’re about to begin. And with this sudden darkness came a sharp wailing from directly behind us. We all turned away from the magnificent fireworks my mother had been so thrilled to see and saw a little girl behind us. She was crying, drenching herself in her tears and looking around frantically. My mother’s maternal instinct kicked in and she knelt down to the kid, shaking her until she looked at her. “I lost my mommmmyyyyyyy,” the little girl said. My mom gave my dad an exasperated look. She knew that we were now morally obligated to find the little girls mother. My mom tugged her hand and said, “well, let’s go find her.” We all walked away from the lake with the little girl in tow. I was irritated to notice that the little girl wasn’t even looking for her mother any longer, she was just crying into her shirt. Well this is gonna go well, I thought to myself. My parents must have had the same thought as me…my father seemed to stomp behind the little girl while searching the crowed for any nervous looking parents. My mother was more considerate, but obviously on edge. “Where did you see them last?” She asked the little girl. “I dunno.” “What does your mother look like?” “I dunno.” “How about your father?” “I dunno.” “Do you remember losing them?” “I dunno.” The questions stopped there. I wanted to ask the girl if she knew //anything.// We continued the fruitless search for another hour, reaching the point of desperation where my dad just asked people if they were missing a kid. No dice. And suddenly, when all hope seemed lost and I thought the girl may be my new little sister, she screamed. A happy scream, she saw her family in the distance. They walked over to us and my mother smiled. Here was her reward for her good deed, a kind “thank you” or maybe even a “you saved our daughter!” But as the little girls mother and father approached us it became clear they weren’t going to say anything. “CAROLINE!” the mother said, not happily but with anger. She yanked the kid’s collar and practically dragged her away, not that Carolina minded. Nothing had been said to us, her saviors. We stood there, dumbfounded in silence. An hour with that kid, listening to her sob and whine and we don’t even get a thank you? Heck, we deserved a monetary reward. “I hate Disney World,” my father finally said, breaking the silence. And for one of the only times I can remember, my entire family was in agreement.

Story based on a song: Alice was not dressed for the occasion. She frowned at herself, picking at the torn, yellow taffeta on her dress and pulling on her stale, curled hair. The spirals felt brittle in her hand, and she closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of them. She cleared her mind of what had just happened and let the thick hairspray stick to her fingers. Alice remembered her mother spraying the hairspray, the thick cloud falling on her head and shoulders as her mother muttered, “these will NOT fall out, Alice!” Her mother would be here soon…she thought. Alice pushed that thought out too and looked around the waiting room. There were three other people waiting. The one closest to her was a middle aged woman, who she had seen bring her son in. He had broken his arm-playing hockey, and she had heard his wails as he walked in the building and until he was taken into the emergency room. Alice shuddered…his wails were incomparable to the devastating silence of Adam in the stretcher. The next one was an Indian man, broad set and silent. He reminded Alice of a Buddha, sitting in the chair solemnly with his belly poking out from him. He was the most calm out of all of them, and Alice wondered why he was even here. The last was another man, dressed in a fine business suit that was disheveled. He was secluded in the far corner of the room, and no one came near him. They knew not to, Alice thought. His tie was undone, his sleeves drawn up, and he hadn’t looked up since Alice had come in. He held his face in his hands, occasionally rubbing the back of his neck. Every few minutes, Alice thought she could hear small, muffled weeps come from his corner of the room. There was no comfort in the waiting room. A nurse came round, and everyone lifted their heads. The nurse called a name Alice didn’t know, and the mother stood up and rushed out of the room, her pace quick and anxious. Alice knew her mother was feeling the same anxiousness, the old man in the ambulance who looked over Adam told her they would call his mother and her mother. Alice thought of Adam’s mother…but stopped herself again. A voice burst into the room. It was her mother. “Alice?!” Alice stood up slowly, the soreness was kicking in…she could feel the sting in her legs and arms. Her mother rushed to her and enveloped her in her arms. Alice sighed into her shoulder, soaking in the warmth of her mother. “Oh my god…baby, look at you,” her mother said pulling away. Alice looked down. Her new yellow dress was torn, the hem now just scraggly threads. Her arm had one scratch, glass from her window had torn at her arm as she crawled out of her car. Alice’s mother started to cry. “Mom…” Alice said. She wanted to cry too, to let the sobs flood out of her, but she couldn’t. She sat back down in her chair and gently pulled her mother into the chair next to her. “So you’re okay?” Her mother asked through blurry eyes. “Yeah…it’s just…” “Who was the wreck with? They just told me it was you…and to come here…” Alice caught her breath. “Adam Cooper.” “The boy from school?” “Yeah…” Alice thought of him. //Adam Cooper.// He was known through out the school, he had straight A’s and played soccer for the varsity team. Only a junior. He didn’t date, though he could have, and he never really explained why he didn’t. The mystery of it all made him especially appealing to the girls at school, they would turn when he passed in the hallway, flashing eager smiles and sticking out their chests. I hit Adam Cooper, Alice thought. “What happened, baby?” Her mother asked, her tears were gone. Now she was worried, Alice could tell from the wrinkle on her forehead. The same one she got when Alice wore a miniskirt or stayed out past curfew. Those things seemed so trivial now… “I was just going to the school…and…I don’t know, Mom. I was in a rush, I was on Davie road…I was just so eager to get there…and…”Alice took a deep breath, one that seemed to choke down her throat. “I didn’t stop for a yellow light. I hit the side of his car, Mom.” She stopped there. The sobs finally coming now, the sort that heaves from your chest, suffocating you. Alice’s mother didn’t touch her for a long time. She let her sob to herself, until finally she laid a hand on her back and shushed her. Her mother ruffled her brown hair, and said her name again and again until Alice lifted her head. “Yes?” Alice asked, her voice thick and unsteady. “All we can do now…is wait.” Alice absorbed the statement. She calmed herself and wiped the water from her face, she looked around the room, embarrassed for the scene she had made. She wanted silence, the heaviness of it to lie down on the room and let her rest. And for a long time that’s what there was. The door to her left creaked open, the one that gave entry to the waiting room from the lobby. Alice looked to the left slowly and saw a woman. She was tall, with a bigger frame and tanned, olive skin. Skin like Adam’s. The woman’s face was hidden by a thick layer of black hair that was hanging over her face as she rushed by, straight to the door leading to the emergency rooms. Before she opened the door she turned back and looked over the room, showing her face. It was worn, like an old leather jacket, her wrinkles only emphasized by the look of worry on her face. She had black smears around her eyes. Her eyes wandered the room and rested on Alice, only for a second, before she turned and walked out, the door shutting loudly behind her. Alice knew that in that second…the woman had known. An understanding, that even at the age of fair age of 17, she knew would change the rest of both their lives. Her mother glanced at her, obviously having seen the exchange but said nothing. They didn’t say anything for a long time, just as they had done when Alice’s father died. Silence suited the both of them better. The nurse called the man in the corner out of the room, and he shuffled heavily still holding his face in his hands to the door. This left Alice and her mother with the Indian man; still as calm as he was three hours ago when Alice had arrived. The silence in the room grew stale, the air going thick with it. Alice felt herself fall into a daze, and she leaned her head on her mother’s bony shoulder. Today, she didn’t mind the poke she felt. It was a welcomed familiarity. The nurse came in again. And for the first time, Alice felt scared to lift her head. “Alice Oswald.” The nurse said, looking pointedly at her. She had harsh features, a beak nose and high cheekbones. Neither of which suited her. Her hair was bound in a tight bun, streaks of gray running through her black hair. Alice smiled half-heartedly though and stood up, wiping herself off and walked towards the nurse. Her mother followed her. They followed the nurse down a short corridor, Alice didn’t dare look into the rooms they passed and stared at the back of the nurse’s crocks. The nurse stopped next to the last room and gestured for Alice to walk in. What Alice saw made her drop to her knees. Adam Cooper's body was draped in a white sheet, the moonlight illuminating his form with a gloomy aura. His mother was hunched over him...leaning her head into his chest and weeping his name into the stale air.

Character Sketch:

He had a wiry frame that was draped in thinning sun-bleached cotton, with a crisp blue bandana wrapped around his neck. As he climbed in the passenger seat I appreciated the burnt-golden tint of his skin, faint hairs sprouting from his arms and legs. “How old are you, son?” I asked. He laughed for a moment, crossing his legs and leaning back before shooting me a surprisingly white grin. “Just turned 24, sir.” “Uh huh,” I scoffed. We went anyways. He was heading to Austin, Texas, he said, still smiling. He had been smiling since he had hopped in, and was still leant back in relaxed posture. He had the kinda content look on his face that can make a fella envious, make him question his own life. I sure as hell wasn’t smiling the whole carride. “Why Austin?” “I don’t know yet,” he said. His smile retreating as a deep thought furrowed his thick brows. He ran a hand through his light brown hair, the frayed, piece-y ends of which showed he needed a cutting, before he turned to me his eyes glistening. “Austin just feels right, you know?” He asked. I said I didn’t quite know, but his grinned at me anyways as if I had been joking. He was silent for a long time after that. But that didn’t mean he stayed still. His feet were always tapping an incoherent beat, his fingers sometimes drumming along. He leaned his head out the window, letting the wind ripple his skin and dry his tongue, still laughing when he leaned back in. He fidgeted with the trash, even, real lively fella…picking it apart and building little towers with the stuff. He didn’t seem the type who wanted to remain still. “You got a place down in Austin son?” I asked, we were nearing the town. The drumming and tapping ceased, and he turned towards me. “Nope.” “You ain’t got nowhere?” “No, sir.” He said, a playful tone to his voice. He started tapping his feet again, not as concerned as I was. “I can call someone if you want…” I offered. “I’m fine on my own, trust me. Thanks for the offer sir, but I can handle myself. You’ve done enough just drivin’ me down.” “Well, I just don’t want you to get mixed up son. It’s a big city.” His face turned again, this time the jovial grin of white teeth was lost. He was serious. “I’m fine on my own, sir. Thank you though.” His playful tone was gone, the rhythm of his fingers on the dashboard fading. He sighed minutes later, adding, “People never wanna let you do things on your own, do they sir? They can’t just let you go and live out somewhere, let you feel something for once. People are so scared some shits gonna happen. But, ain’t that what America’s about?”

10

I will still be in creative writing, most likely figuring out my portfolio. Will be February 24th. I will be busy with online work I’m sure, since I have a test next week, as well as getting ready for spring orientation at Elon! It’ll be December 14th. I’ll be home for winter break from college most likely and getting ready to celebrate Christmas with my family. I’ll hopefully be spending ime with friends. I will be 28. Which right now seems so far away that it could be fiction. I hope that when I am 28 I’m happy though.
 * Ten Minutes from now**
 * Ten days from now**
 * Ten months from now**
 * Ten years from now**