7 Months Later...
Part 1: A Perfect Summer
"Keep your face always toward the sunshine—and shadows will fall behind you." — Walt Whitman
Amy
It all started with minutes. Then the minutes turned into hours, which turned into days. Finally making weeks. The third week we went to the hospital, the doctor announced she was dead, deceased, gone. I was seven at the time and it was difficult, more than difficult to process her passing when I was so young. She was my oxygen, my heart, my lifeline. I needed her, I wanted her to live, to be there for me. My 5 year old sister must of had it worse. I knew it was hard for her, but she didn't show it. She was the strong daughter, the penetrator. The woman who died was my mother, but also my closest friend, my guardian, a big sister but most importantly, my favourite person in the world. I didn't know how to live without her. I couldn't. But I was strong, not as strong as Maddie, not as persistent, but pushed through. I kept going, kept moving, kept breathing. I missed the feeling of everything being perfect, of having nothing to worry about, nothing to think about. Life was full of bliss when we were younger. It was the kumquat, it started sweet but ended bitter and sour. And that, that sweetness was over. As I grew older, I developed a maternal instinct. I pretended to, I acted like I was a mother, the little girl. And Maddie was the daughter, the doll. The aftermath? We became inseparable. Too close that she wouldn't go or do anything without me. She would await my permission for things that children would normally ask their parents for like if she could have a marshmallow or watch a PG rated film. I kept on reminding myself, she's your sister. But it felt fun to pretend, and It didn't feel like a chore but rather a responsibility, an obligation. Sometimes I act like a teenager, because I am one, and sometimes I act like an adult, because I can be one. Dad managed his grief silently. He always had a strong persona, never showing his emotions. Sometimes, I wondered if he was even human. I knew he loved Mom, and sometimes when I mention her, I can still see the agony in his eyes. A reminder for myself, an alarm to wake you up, to the truth. You can't pretend, you can't run away, she's dead. 9 years later and we now live in large, urban Melbourne. I still miss Cairns, its beaches and palm trees, the scorching 30 degree heat. And even walking barefoot on hot concrete. Melbourne is a thing of its own. You can't compare Cairns to Melbourne. Every summer break we visit our old home. It has our cousins, old friends, family, the beach and childhood places. Even thinking about it makes me want to go. To run away and just be there. I wish humans could master teleportation, because if they did, every day I would teleport myself to Cairns. It's the best place to be, anytime of year, but especially in the summertime. It's currently the last week of school, next week we leave for Cairns. I was already so excited that I started packing my bags over a week ago. As I gently picked up the wooden, chipped picture frame, I glared at my mother and me, smiling in front of our old house. I still remembered her ginger hair and her vibrant smile. A memory I could touch but not feel or see. Before I could realise my state of grief, a small, lukewarm tear fell down my scaly cheek. I looked up as I heard a knock at my door. I quickly wiped the tear away and slowly placed the frame in my untidy suitcase. I didn't want anyone to know I was grieving, I was a mask, no one knows what I look like behind it, they can only see the front. "Come in." I said, welcoming, trying to conceal the incoming sob. The door opened at an ajar angle, I recognized the person by the strand of orange hair that rested through the gap. My sister, Maddie peered through, searching around the room as if she was looking for someone. I gave her a half smile. "Hey just wondering if you-" she saw me on the carpet next to my suitcase. "Why are you packing? We're going in a week, that's loads of time." She strode towards me and jumped on my bed. "I'm just excited, okay?" I replied. "Excited to see Luca?" she questioned sarcastically, using one of our inside jokes. I enjoyed the feeling of being in on an inside joke. It felt as though you and your friends were puzzle pieces, connected, related. Only we knew what it meant, a secret. I defended myself. "Ew, no. Did you know he told me that he doesn't believe in the "schematics of personal hygiene"?" It was true. Once I was in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and I could smell him behind me. I asked him if he uses deodorant, and he replied with the same comment. "So that's why he smells like the bait shop." replied Maddie. We both giggled softly together. Luca is one of our 4 cousins, Leo is the youngest, Nora is the oldest and Nash, well let's just forget about him. Nash is the family darling, the handsome, young entrepreneur. Whenever Auntie Mabel boasts about him my mood always goes off. Maddie shook my shoulder gently and left the room. A strand of my ginger hair got in my face so I blew it away. I sighed as I looked at my seashell collection. I could tell it was going to be the best, most greatest summer ever.