Sophie's Blog

Memory has always been an major issue for me. From “Did I feed my cat yet?” To “Where was the band concert again?” I’ve never had any memorization skills whatsoever. I’ve always been terrible at the card game we all played as little kids, ya know, the ones where you had to flip over two cards and if they matched then you got a point. If they didn’t, you flip them back over and wait for your next turn. Let’s just say, I was’t really just letting my sisters win to make them feel better.

She put pulled out her tablet and quickly put in her password.

“See Sophie? I have The Game of Life.”  She said gesturing to the small colorful square in the corner. I pushed myself up onto my toes and gazed at it for a moment before quickly tapping it over and over with my index finger. She yanked it away.

“Okay, okay, we can play it!” Her hair swayed as she laughed at my childishness. I grinned, knowing I had gotten what I had wanted. Friends are like that; if they can give you something simple, like a game, they will. Another girl joined us to play the game as the screen lit up with the wrong color. Oopsies. I looked away and pretend I didn’t notice as the two of them yelled at me jokingly. I shrugged and smiled some more as they fixed it quickly one of them shaking their head at me.

“I call orange!” I shouted over their argument about who gets the blue car. Once they finished (one with blue, the other, not-so-happy with green,) we spun the wheel, only getting to the second player as the bell rang out loudly through the classroom, sending people running.

“We can play again on Monday! Then every day till we finish!” She said as she put her tablet back into its case and gathered up her papers. The three of us ran out of the door, and into the flood of Middle Schoolers, excited for Monday.

I want to say “I love you.” I say “I don’t know.”

I want to say “Never leave me?” I smile.

I want to say “You could never know how much you mean to me.” I smile again.

I want to say “I promise.” I nod.

I want to say “I’ll never leave you.”  I bravely hug you.

Why? Because I’m human, and I’m scared. Just like any other human.

Tap tap. Tap tap. My feet say as they move down the side walk, getting closer and closer to home. The wind blows, flipping my hair and freezing my ears. It sends left-over leaves across the sidewalk and they jump over my feet without hesitation. Like a squirrel, running across a vacant road. The heat from the sun warms the backs of my legs and my back pack. I take in a big breath of air, it smells of cinnamon and pie, then freshly cut grass and newly planted dirt, along with winter faded flowers. My stomach groans. I suppose I should have had a larger lunch. I begin to plan what I’ll have after I finally get home, when another huge gust of wind blows my hair into a flurry. Sticking strands of it to my fresh coat of Eos chap stick. A dog barks in the distance, newly aware of my presence near their home. I glance back in their direction as I pull my hair back and over my shoulder. And I walk on, tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap…

L onging to be with them always.

O verprotective- just a little bit!

V ery happy!

E ternal.

Love is a very peculiar thing, but only a few know it’s true powers and abilities.

Only the ones who have known from the moment they really fell.

I am one of those few.

“I’m bored! I want to go somewhere! To do something, anything!” I cry out as I flop down onto the couch in despair.

“Fold your laundry, then we’ll talk.” My mother calls back from the kitchen. I grunt and kick the pile on landry at the other end of the couch. After a pause, I roll off and begin my journey to entertainment. Over the running water in the kitchen I hear silverware and plates being slowly clashed together, sounding like tectonic plates. But with more metal and less lava.

“So what you’re saying, is that if I fold all of my laundry, and take my laundry upstairs to my room, we can go some were?” I ask, making sure I know the terms of our verbal contract.

“Sure, why not? But you have to get Quin to do hers too!” she said over the dishes. I roll my eyes. My little sister Quincy and I both have the day off for one reason or another, but she never dose what our mom tells her to. I take it smugly really, I can get her to do anything my parents say, but they never reinforce my methods. They always baby her, act like she’s some precious little princess. If I was as rude to them as she is, I’d be way grounded. She knows it too. Just because she’s the youngest of three she can get away with anything. I bid adieu of going anywhere, or doing anything, on my free Monday.

Waiting.

A funny thing,

You’re required to do absolutely nothing and yet its so difficult.

You’ll count the seconds,

Then the minutes.

One goes to five,

And soon five turns to ten.

And finally, ten turns to forty.

And thats when you’ll decide its too cold to sit outside,

On the bumper of your sister’s car,

Waiting.

Ahh, Saturday. Also known as, Lazy Day. No one ever really likes to admit it, but come on, Saturday is either the day you have a TON to do and your busy all day, or you’re on your own, probably binge watching Netflix. Most people I know prefer the second one. To be honest, as long as I’m not in the middle of having a lot to do and nothing, I’m happy. Catching up on newly released seasons of anime and dramas, sleeping in for an extra hour or three, Saturday is possibly one of the best inventions of mankind.

Festival. Sounds fun. Filled with joy and music, and in a rare case, maybe some games! But not this one. Whereas yes, plenty of music, live even. The joy you thought there would be is filled instead with terror, fear at what lies behind the Adjudicators panels. were as you are on stage, trying to perfectly play three of your ensemble’s pieces, they just… Stare. Every now and then when I glance up from m music, I’ll see one of them jot something down. Good or bad, you can never tell. The sounds are intense. Crashing symbols, blaring horns, delicate flutes, all piercing their way into the ears of our dozen spectators. Worry fills my head, flowing in through my eyes and ears and with every breath I take my mouth as well. I worry about how well be appear. What the Adjudicators think about us. How difficult the sight reading will be. Were our eleventh flute has gone. She wasn’t feeling well right before the performance and disappeared mere minutes we had to go on stage. Our director sent out a small search team of high schoolers that are making sure everything runs smoothly, and a handful of adults that have been doing the same. She’ll be found soon enough, for all I know she already has. It’s really too bad they can’t tell her worried band mates about that. I just hope for dear life our flute group, and our whole band, will be okay without her for the competition we battle in at the very moment.

People are like nail polish.

Always pretty and shiny

If you choose right you have a good group of them,

But, then there’s when they go away.

Slowly, they start to chip, and leave pieces of themselves everywhere.

At first you don’t notice,

but then you start to make them leave.

Slowly chip, chip, chipping at them with your other fingers.

Some times you don’t even notice.

But then, when you finally realize its much to late

and you have to chip them away completely,

you just replace it with new, better nail polish,

Never noticing the difference…

People are NOT like nail polish.