Mosquitoes

My mother smells like plants; fresh and drenched with summer rain. My father smells like wood, new earth and grease from nails. My sister said that whenever I was happy, the makahiya would be content and close its leaves when I was near. For three seasons my family grew this place of wood, leaves and grass. Every Sunday we would rest and dance in the garden, four people who knew life side by side, always holding on to each other, ready to face the world with their heads up towards the sky.

My sister knew of pain when her twin died. My mother knew of death when her first love was killed in the war. My father knew never ending sorrow when he realized she could never love him the same way. But he went on to love her even as she dreamed of someone else. It wasn't that she didn't truly love him, she told me and my sister. But some things a woman couldn't give a man, no matter what she felt.

When I first became aware of my presence in the world, the rain stopped in the middle of a storm. The wind halted and hovered over me, as if shocked by my existence as I was of theirs. They couldn't quite place me, and I wondered what they told the trees and the seas, and the glorious mountains when they spread news of my presence. After that day, dragonflies and mosquitoes followed me wherever I went, and my sister called them my disgusting little fairies.

My father decided to take his life when I was 10. My sister caught him because the spiderwebs had fallen off everywhere that day. It dropped onto our breakfast plates and on mother's hair. I started screaming and my sister ran out to the shed and saw our father with a gun pointed to his head.

My sister never talked after that. Each day she would sit with me as I played on the pond and she'd never comment about the dragonflies and mosquitoes that had started to grow in number that one had to swat through a blanket of them to get to me. I watched her light grow dim as the months passed. She had been like the strongest sunbeam in the world; brilliant, vibrant and luminous. Now she lay in her bed and I saw her dreams over her head, replaying my father's last moments on earth.

Her tears burned my skin. My mother watered the garden at night and would sometimes dance with me when the moon was full. But the makahiya never closed itself anymore when I walked by. They spread as wide as they could, as if trying to absorb all the pain inside of me. Most of the time I wasn't even aware I was hurting, but my fairies would, and they would swarm all the more louder when I was about to cry.

Eventually my sister found someone to love, and he smelled of alcohol and needles. He helped her back to happiness and I often found myself on their front door, looking in through the peep hole to catch a fishbowl view of their life. For a time, it made me happy to see her smile.

When my mother decided to get a new husband, I felt angry for the first time in a long while. I was angry at the man who took my sister away. I was angry at my dad for taking his life in front of my sister. I was angry at myself for being aware of how the grass grew and the wind blew and how I walked with steady feet across the earth.

The day of the wedding was bright and beautiful, with skies so blue it could hurt your eyes. Everything was perfect and the wind blew with a smile and I knew they were all going to be happy, my sister and my mother. Far away to the north, where mountains still talked and trees whispered to each other, I felt my father touch my cheek and tell me that everything was going to be okay. As they took their vows, only the dragonflies remained, silent and watchful in the background as the band started playing the Wedding March again.

I Will Remember You

Dedicated to my dear, dear friends.

If you need someone to be with you when the path is dark, I'll be there. If you need me to hold the flash light as you poke around a dangerous looking underbrush, I'll be there, even if I know better. In fact, you'll probably get an earful from me, but if you really want to poke that damn thing, I'll be there.

The moment I hear a menacing snarl, my first instinct will be to run like hell. But I'll look back to see if you're with me. And if you're not, if you're there being stupid or brave, glaring up at some mean-looking creature, I'll go back and help you.

I'll be stabbing at the thing and making sure you get away safely. I'll be stabbing at the thing making sure we kill it effectively. I'll be cheering you on as you stab it. I'll help you bury the monster when we're done with it. I'll sit beside you while you cry, and make sure you get lots of food and water when you break down. I'll be the one bringing flowers to its grave and sharing the hurt with you.

I'll be cheering the loudest when you come back with its head. I'll organize the trumpets and confetti flinging for your triumphant return. I'll make sure our horses are shiny and gallant. I'll make sure your hair is okay.

I'll be the one to write about you and your failures, achievements and dreams. No matter what I'll be writing about who you are without glorifying your mistakes or successes. I'll be writing about the essence of the man... the woman. You'll be immortalized for who you are, not by what you've done. And I will love you everyday for the rest of my life, and I'll remember you after. We'll look at each other and remember the dream of our mortal life, when we fought, loved and lived for each other. We'll remember how we were everything to each other.

We will remember that we did our best to be the best of friends.
We will remember how well we loved. :)