About Me

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I'm still in high school, but I love to read and write. Ever since I read 'Inkheart', I've always thought that making up your own world on pages is so amazing. I write from experiences. I'm 15, so I'm still learning!

Friday, July 31, 2009

My Sister's Wedding

September 3rd, 2005.
Hair, make-up, dresses.
Flowers, flats, jewelry.
Family, pictures, smiles.
Tears of joy, shaking hands.
Sparkling white dress, red rubys.
Black tie, red vest.
Hand in hand, more smiles.
Two wooden doors, flowers being tossed.
Anxious glances, parents sniffling.
Slow moving steps, sweet soft music.
Red dresses, black ties.
More tears, I do's.
Two rings, one kiss.
Wide smiles, arm in arm.
Two wooden doors, more tears.
Microphone, maid of honor loves the bride.
Dancing, holding on tightly.
Cakes cut, kisses.
Bride, groom.
Husband, wife.
Car pulls up, dress stuffed in.
Happiness, joy, love.
Rings, kisses, smiles.
Love that will last a lifetime.
As I woke up to the smell of fresh paint, I breathed it in deeply. For some oddball reason I love that smell. Its so refreshing, so new. Its also a sign of change, a new beginning for the poor walls that drain from one color to the next. Today I would be painting the bathroom door red. Not a dull, lifeless red like you would see on the side of an old washed out barn,but a red that shows courage and strength. A color that's bright, but gentle. Like a butterfly that catches your eye and excites you. A red that pops out at you just enough to make you look at it a second time.
I got out my paint brush and slowing started slathering what looked like strawberry juice over the cream colored door. It looked so pretty. Stroke after stroke, like a bird's feathers overlapping one another. There's just something about painting that relaxes me. It's just the type of thing that gives you time to yourself and gets you thinking. It lets you be in control and have a sense of power.

Stroke after stroke I kept thinking. I stopped and looked at the half painted door and smiled. I could see my Grandmother wearing her favorite red jacket sitting in a pew at church with a flower pin stuck on the collar. I kept painting as I giggled to myself. Bright red crayola crayons popped out at me as my friends and I at church were fighting over who could draw the best heart. Toenail polish that was the color of poppies being painted oh so carefully on my sister's feet as we watched 'Harry Potter' flooded back to me.I could suddenly smell spaghetti sauce as it was all over the kitchen floor while two girls were laughing because that's all they could do.
I sat down on the floor and this time I couldn't contain my laughter. I kept looking at the door,thinking. I saw the pen sitting on my teachers desk and the brightly colored 'A' on the top of my test...the bouquet of roses being sent to my classroom on valentines day by the boy that sat behind me...how red my face got when I received flowers...the coke bottles on a hot summers day by the barbecue...my grandmother and I laughing at two ladies with red from the tips of their hats all the way down to their heels...band members surrounding me on stage...bright colorful packages on Christmas morning...my sister walking gently over deep red rose petals up the the alter...myself right next to the bride in the most beautiful red dress I had ever worn...
I stopped painting and stepped back, I smiled. The door was all done. So fresh, so new. Its amazing what a simple color can remind you of, almost like a memory that doesn't get looked at often. I stepped out of the bathroom and turned around. I guess there are just some things in life that you will never forget. When you look back, you ask yourself 'why did I remember that?!'. Being reminded of memories just makes you realize. It may be now, or later. I turned off the light and shut the door smiling, "Everything does revolve around love..."