“1st Place, $50
Amie Sommars,17, Torrance High School
I could not count the times I have looked at my mother, not once taking the time to notice her, never once thinking that she was once my age, or the fact that she has had experiences in her life which just might let her understand . . . until last night. As she walked in, tired from her day at work, I looked into her eyes and I saw her memories. I journeyed through her eyes into a day I did not recognize.
“Carol McNickles, please come to the principal’s office. Carol McNickles, to the principal’s office.” I was suddenly at Venice High School. I stopped in my tracks, not knowing why my mother’s maiden name was being called.
“You better go,” said a girl I recognized only from pictures of my parents’ wedding. “They’re calling your name, Carol. Are you going to go?” Dumbfounded I stare at her. “Come on, I’ll go with you.” We walked into a dark hallway, lined with lockers. The girl grabbed my hand and said, “Look, whatever they say, stand strong. Don’t let them pull you away from what your goal is. Just remember what you always say: EQUAL RIGHTS AND NO MORE TIGHTS!” She left me standing at the doorway of the office. I opened the door and walked in to the principal’s office.
“Please have a seat,” he said as he sat down in his large gray chair. “Carol, we’ve never had any problems with you, and for that reason, I’m going to be very straightforward with you. Your records are perfect, you have wonderful grades, and all your teachers feel you’re a terrific person. However, we have certain rules in this school, and if you cannot follow them, you will not be forced to. When I was your age, women weren’t even allowed to attend high school. I understand you’re attempting to make a statement, as is most of your generation, but school is not the place to make that statement. I believe that my secretary will be able to give you a school skirt, so that you will be more properly groomed for attendance here. Have you anything to say?” He looked at me with folded arms as he leaned back in his chair.
I looked down and noticed I was wearing pants. I could remember my mother saying that she was never allowed to wear pants in school. “Sir,” I said slowly, “I do not feel that I deserve to be reprimanded for wearing pants, and by having to change, I am being reprimanded. I am not defiling my body, nor am I in any way exposing myself. Furthermore, wearing pants does not take away from my own education, for I can still learn the things I am expected to learn. As a matter of fact, just this morning in English, “I found an intriguing passage in the book we’ve been reading. It said, ‘I believe I have sinned in your eyes, but who’s to know if God shares your point of view?”‘
* * *
Suddenly I was looking out the window at our run-down apartment’s driveway. “Mommy, can I light fireworks tomorrow?” I looked down to see a five-year-old version of my sister tugging on my mother’s… I mean… on my maternity blouse. “Jewell said I wasn’t big enough.” I then noticed the belly that was blocking my own view of my feet.
“We’ll see,” I said, knowing that neither would get the chance. My sister liked to tell the story, as I was growing up, of the Fourth of July I ruined for them. Mom and Dad had to go to the hospital because I was being born, and Grandma would only let them light sparklers.
“Mommy, is my new baby brother gonna make you love me less?” I laughed out loud with her words. I had long forgotten that my parents thought I was going to be a boy. I sat down on the slightly used recliner that I can still remember, though in reality it has been years since we had it. My mother—that is—I picked up Rebecca and sat her on my knee.
“I could never love you less.” The words came from my mouth, but not by my planning. I listened as I spoke my mother’s words for her. “Samuel is going to be one of the three best things that happened to this family, the other two being a little girl named Rebecca, and her older sister Jewell. He’ll be special because he’ll be born into this family. We are the Sommars family, and we will never be able to change that. And that’s a very good thing.” As my sister ran off to play, I could feel a tear begin to fall from my eyes.
* * *
I wiped away the beginnings of a tear, as I stood dressed in black in a church sanctuary. The coffin before me was opened. My grandfather (my mother’s father) lay inside. I could see my mother’s reflection on the casket as I stood in her body. It was a sad moment, but I knew I couldn’t cry. I had to be strong for my family’s sake. I walked back towards my husband as I passed my three beautiful daughters. Jewell, now 23, sat beside Rebecca, 20, and Amie, 14. The three sat talking, laughing occasionally, and wiping away each other’s tears.
The tears represented a thousand things, the same things I could now see as I looked from my mother’s eyes. I realized why my mother’s memories were so comfortable. They were not just hers, but my own and my sisters’ as well. I see the world as she does, and that is why we sometimes do not get along. I’ll be coming back to visit my mother’s world again, because it causes me to grow and become stronger for the future: The future I will face, the life she has led.
Connecting with my ancestors
2nd Place, $30
Erica Lynn Shaffran
When I thought about the question, “Where would you like to travel?” many places came to mind. You know, the usual places such as Italy, France, Ireland, or Sweden perhaps. All these places quickly vanished from my thoughts when I remembered an amazing experience I had one night a while ago.
I dreamed that I was going to visit my grandmother. 1 hadn’t seen her for a long time: it had been two years since she passed away. I walked out to my front porch and closed my eyes. In my thoughts I asked her to come and pick me up, but I got no response. Then, the deafening silence stopped. I heard something. At first a slight sound but, as time went by, it grew into a symphony of voices singing hymns of praise. Their voices were so extraordinary that it made me feel intoxicated. I heard my grandmothers voice. She was singing “Bye Bye Blues,” a song that she used to sing to us kids when we were younger.
My mind was spinning while my heart was pounding irregularly. The sound of her voice brought on uncontrollable emotions. I wept, not because I was sad or scared but because my heart was filled with such intense joy and love. At that moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder. The touch was familiar, comforting. It was her, I knew it was! I opened my eyes and I was no longer on my front porch. I was standing on a bridge. The sky was the brightest blue imaginable and the sun was giving off the most awesome light I had ever seen. Under the bridge was a river. There were people drinking from and dancing by it. Some of them had wings and others didn’t, but they all could fly. As I crossed the bridge I experienced an overwhelming feeling of contentment. Everything was alive, but in a more magnificent way. This paradise was like nothing on earth. Everything was as one, in such a harmonious way that I couldn’t begin to comprehend it or recapture it through my writing. I was in such awe that I couldn’t even cry.
As we approached the forest, I saw children playing hide-and-go-seek. Their faces were full of happiness and their laughter was so joyous and contagious that I couldn’t help but laugh myself. There
was no poverty, no anger and no color lines. Walking”