A little reminder

It turns out that one of my short stories that I submitted into my school's anthology did get published! I was both surprised and happy, since I submitted a short story last year and didn't get the honor of it being in the book. The story is called, A little reminder. I wrote it for an assignment for my English class last semester. It involves death, (since that was what the assignment called for), being there for the people you love, and learning and growing from past experiences.

A Little Reminder

Colleen Redmond

I never thought about death as much as I did when my Aunt Lisa died. Her death was somewhat unexpected to my mom and me. But I guess that’s just how death can be. You never know when it will take you from this world. Aunt Lisa’s death was a little reminder for me. It came like a whisper in my sleep. I heard a soft and gentle voice that came into my ear that said, “It’s almost time.” When I heard this, I immediately woke up, my heart pounding like a drum and the hair on my spine sticking straight up like grass in the Everglades. Almost time for what? For me to die? I thought to myself.

    I remembered I was sleeping in Aunt Lisa’s room that night. And I suddenly remembered that I was looking at an old photo album with pictures of her and my mom when they were younger. I recalled that all of these pictures had something in common; they were all taken at the same place. The place had lots of trees that were as tall as skyscrapers, and there happened to be archways covered with vines and purple flowers. In the background there were water fountains with statues of angels spitting water from their mouths.

     I wondered where this was. It looked so pleasant and beautiful, that a snapshot couldn't do it justice. But then I realized that each photo that I saw was like a piece of a puzzle, that it made up the whole place. Once I realized this, I tried to find the rest of the pictures to make up the whole place, but by that point I became tired and fell right asleep. My hair covered my face like a Halloween mask and the sunlight came in through the window, and all I could see were silky strands and the bright light caused me to squint. I quickly wiped my obnoxious hair from my eyes and remembered that I was up late the night before looking at old photographs. They were all scattered over the cranberry carpet like juice stains. I picked them up and put them back in a large cardboard box that had ‘Lisa’s photos’ written in black sharpie. While trying to put the box back on a shelf in the closet, other things came crashing down. I covered my head and tried to move out of the way, but things kept on falling. Eventually everything stopped. My mom walked in with a bowl of Mac and cheese in her hand. “Are you okay, honey?”

 Her face was expressionless, like items falling from the closet was normal. I told her I was fine and that I was going to clean up the mess I had just created. But before she had the chance to respond, I wanted to show her the old photographs that I had come across the night before. I reached inside the cardboard box and pulled out the photos that I had found so interesting of my mom and my Aunt.

    I gave her the few that I had come across, and she slowly took them in her grasp. She just stared at them like she was trying to fully comprehend what she was looking at. She flipped through them and I could tell that tears were starting to form in her eyes. My Aunt Lisa had passed away only three months prior but I began to think that I shouldn't have shown these pictures of her and Aunt Lisa.

     “Where did you find these?” Her voice was shaky and she began to wipe away the tears that were already sliding down her cheek.

     I was afraid to answer because I felt that she would be mad at me. I started to regret having shown these pictures to her. I didn't want to hurt her more than she already was and now I only made it worse.

    But before I could start to answer, she told me that I had Aunt Lisa’s eyes, hazel and almond shaped. Her smile made her dimples show just like mine, and when my Mom stated this I noticed that her smile formed dimples too.

     Of all the days that Aunt Lisa lived in this house with my Mom and me, I felt like I always had to keep a distance. She had a serious soul and her hazel eyes proved that. I could tell that she was close to my Mom, as they were practically twins with only 17 months separating them. And then there was me, chewing my peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the kitchen while my Mom and Aunt Lisa would talk a mile a minute and laugh as loud as mockingbirds. Out of all those days, most of which  being mostly hot and deadly, getting sunburned from the Yuma, Arizona sun, I never took up the chance to tell her everything and anything. My Mom worked full time and most days it was just me and Aunt Lisa at home. Silence would be the sound that came out of my mouth. But it wouldn't be a problem because she would be the one who would fill those golden moments when I would be thinking to myself. She would listen to Fleet wood Mac and dust the furniture at the same time. Her talent for singing would come through at these moments. I only wish that I had had enough courage to sing along with her. Inside I was yearning to join her, but I didn't want to bother her. She would sing real loud, as if she were performing at a Karaoke show. When I was upstairs, I could hear every word she sang.

    “Will you ever win? Rhiannon!” she would sing over and over again. After a while, I got accustomed to listening to this song called Rhiannon by Fleet wood Mac. “Taken by, taken by the sky” was the last line of the song. Whenever I listen to this song, I always think to myself that Aunt Lisa was taken by the sky.

     Once my Mom finished looking at the old photographs of her and Aunt Lisa, she hugged me tightly. I had no choice but to hug her back and wrapped my arms around her. She patted my hair and held me ever so tightly. In my ear she whispered, “Don’t leave me. I won’t let you go.” She began to sniffle and stroked my hair more; she wasn't letting me go. I stroked her head too and tried to swallow my tears, but they just ended up falling and landed on her sweater.

      “Oh, Anne, you’re all that I have left.” Her voice quivered and I tried to hush her and calm her down, though it’s always been the opposite. I whispered a little reminder and told her that I will always be here.