Re: Tiger's AIO Writings
Posted: Sun Aug 21, 2016 8:15 pm
Coming out of the woodwork to post something I threw together on Kelly.
i.
her earliest memories are warm and full of happy giggles and a pair of loving smiles; she can’t associate sentences or events but knows that they were good, that they were happy, once
her sendoff on her first day of kindergarten is an argument that had nothing to do with her, and she sees all the other kids’ parents hugging them goodbye and walking them into school holding their hands and forces a smile, wanting it to be real
her last memory of her father smells strongly of alcohol and tobacco smoke and sounds like a man who has had enough of what his life has become but can only keep up care for himself (but even then, she has a feeling that “can” really means “will”)
she learns that some people are just born lucky, and that if she wants to survive, she’ll have to start doing it on her own—it’s not as if anyone wants to help her; she's just an unlucky one
her one solace is music; she learns to play on an old church organ on afternoons lit dimly by a winter sun, and presses on despite how her arm aches from the last time she and her mother talked
she learns richland like piano keys and can play it about as well by the time she’s in the second grade, and has seen enough to give her a look about her that keeps her classmates as far away as she wants them
she knows as soon as she puts the first cigarette to her lips that she’s making a big mistake, but does it anyway because it isn’t as if anyone’s going to stop her, and maybe she just feels so much that she wants to be numb for a while
ii.
she finally runs, runs as far as she can and doesn’t look back, doesn’t want to look back, just knows that she has nowhere to go but she’ll find something, because she’s on her own and doesn’t need anyone
she's used to people pushing back against her, especially church people, and sort of enjoys getting under their skin—you either burn or get burned, and she is nothing if not a master at playing with fire
she meets the washingtons and mr. whittaker and cannot for the life of her figure them out—once she thinks she's got their number they surprise her, and she wonders if maybe these people are the real deal (no they aren't, silly girl, why would they be? you watch. you wait.)
she takes that doll and puts it in her backpack and can’t help but keep it close—the last toy she had, the little lion she’d had since she was three, was given oh-so-generously by her mom to a boyfriend’s daughter six months ago, and the comfort is worth the extra weight
she first learns to trust not ed, with his generous gifts; not elaine, with her welcoming air; not marvin, with his goofball antics; but tamika, who shares an old lullaby and teaches her how to play it and even lets her improve it, a little (it just needs some flair, that's all)
she lets elaine and connie in when she sees just how far they'll go, finally ready to let in slivers of hope that look oddly like a town library and an ice cream shop dumpster
she goes on picnics and dances in the rain and laughs at marvin's messiness and learns how to make candles and soap and lets herself be awed by her world and her freedom
she is skeptical of this church thing, has seen what church people are like and knows it'll only be a matter of time before she scares everyone away, just like always, because not everyone can be the washingtons or mr. whittaker or connie (but the rest of her new world has been one surprise after another, and maybe...)
iii.
she comes face-to-face, completely out-of-the-blue, with a savior who tells her to step out, embrace hope, and care fiercely, and pierces her to her very core with how much she is loved
she barely escapes going back to her mom—she never wants to see the apartment or the alley by the school or the corner store that accepted her ridiculous fake id for cigarettes as long as she lives because she's done with that; she's found something better
she gleefully gets into prank wars with david straussberg, whose sister has never given her approval but makes sure to inform her which branches near his bedroom window are shakier than others
she asks marvin to teach her how to play basketball when she's played it for years, just because she knows he's thrilled to be able to teach someone and if she's being honest, she kinda likes trusting someone enough to let them show her something
she starts going to the sleepovers tamika has with mandy straussberg, who's a little sugary for her tastes but always knows just what to say—and has an unexpectedly metallic taste in music while she's at it (have you ever heard of demon hunter? oh, you wait, best bass lines i've ever heard)
she sees buck oliver walking into her classroom and invites him to sit next to her, because she hears the muttering and sees the suspicious glances and thinks not in my school
she accepts jules as part of her friend group without question, because she knows what it's like to be lonely and abandoned, and doesn't bat an eye before giving her an extra rice krispie treat at lunch because she said she liked them
iv.
she decides to become a washington one day, completely out of the blue, and it's all marvin's doing because he's the one who finally points out that y'know, she's lived with us for four years now, might as well make this thing official
she is in the washington family and the family of the church, and doesn't need to think about those old memories anymore because she's never felt so wanted
she leads a boy to becoming a christian, a foster care boy who was tossed around for seven years before he went to the petersons, and marvels at how things are coming full circle
she won't be stopped from serving food to the homeless or ripping weeds and thorns and bushes out of abandoned lots for new houses because i'm serving the least of these, and if you want to put an end to this i'd like to see you try
she happens to be a lot better at school than she'd been given credit for, determined to earn college and get scholarships because ed and elaine—mom and dad—have provided for her enough and it's time that they see their returns
she double majors in social work and child psychology; she fights tooth and nail for foster kids because this system is broken broken broken and she'll do whatever she can to fix it
she leads charges and bandages wounds, she nurtures and battles, she gets married and fosters and adopts, she advocates and organizes and makes voices heard, and she places above all the desires of the one who brought her here
she refuses to settle for surviving and who lives and laughs and loves and teaches and fights because it's all so risky, and really, that's the thrill of it, isn't it?
her memories are full to the brim with warmth and beauty and joy and contentment, clear and rich and vivid, and knows that whatever she felt once is nothing—she's been brought here now, she is whole, and she is His.
i.
her earliest memories are warm and full of happy giggles and a pair of loving smiles; she can’t associate sentences or events but knows that they were good, that they were happy, once
her sendoff on her first day of kindergarten is an argument that had nothing to do with her, and she sees all the other kids’ parents hugging them goodbye and walking them into school holding their hands and forces a smile, wanting it to be real
her last memory of her father smells strongly of alcohol and tobacco smoke and sounds like a man who has had enough of what his life has become but can only keep up care for himself (but even then, she has a feeling that “can” really means “will”)
she learns that some people are just born lucky, and that if she wants to survive, she’ll have to start doing it on her own—it’s not as if anyone wants to help her; she's just an unlucky one
her one solace is music; she learns to play on an old church organ on afternoons lit dimly by a winter sun, and presses on despite how her arm aches from the last time she and her mother talked
she learns richland like piano keys and can play it about as well by the time she’s in the second grade, and has seen enough to give her a look about her that keeps her classmates as far away as she wants them
she knows as soon as she puts the first cigarette to her lips that she’s making a big mistake, but does it anyway because it isn’t as if anyone’s going to stop her, and maybe she just feels so much that she wants to be numb for a while
ii.
she finally runs, runs as far as she can and doesn’t look back, doesn’t want to look back, just knows that she has nowhere to go but she’ll find something, because she’s on her own and doesn’t need anyone
she's used to people pushing back against her, especially church people, and sort of enjoys getting under their skin—you either burn or get burned, and she is nothing if not a master at playing with fire
she meets the washingtons and mr. whittaker and cannot for the life of her figure them out—once she thinks she's got their number they surprise her, and she wonders if maybe these people are the real deal (no they aren't, silly girl, why would they be? you watch. you wait.)
she takes that doll and puts it in her backpack and can’t help but keep it close—the last toy she had, the little lion she’d had since she was three, was given oh-so-generously by her mom to a boyfriend’s daughter six months ago, and the comfort is worth the extra weight
she first learns to trust not ed, with his generous gifts; not elaine, with her welcoming air; not marvin, with his goofball antics; but tamika, who shares an old lullaby and teaches her how to play it and even lets her improve it, a little (it just needs some flair, that's all)
she lets elaine and connie in when she sees just how far they'll go, finally ready to let in slivers of hope that look oddly like a town library and an ice cream shop dumpster
she goes on picnics and dances in the rain and laughs at marvin's messiness and learns how to make candles and soap and lets herself be awed by her world and her freedom
she is skeptical of this church thing, has seen what church people are like and knows it'll only be a matter of time before she scares everyone away, just like always, because not everyone can be the washingtons or mr. whittaker or connie (but the rest of her new world has been one surprise after another, and maybe...)
iii.
she comes face-to-face, completely out-of-the-blue, with a savior who tells her to step out, embrace hope, and care fiercely, and pierces her to her very core with how much she is loved
she barely escapes going back to her mom—she never wants to see the apartment or the alley by the school or the corner store that accepted her ridiculous fake id for cigarettes as long as she lives because she's done with that; she's found something better
she gleefully gets into prank wars with david straussberg, whose sister has never given her approval but makes sure to inform her which branches near his bedroom window are shakier than others
she asks marvin to teach her how to play basketball when she's played it for years, just because she knows he's thrilled to be able to teach someone and if she's being honest, she kinda likes trusting someone enough to let them show her something
she starts going to the sleepovers tamika has with mandy straussberg, who's a little sugary for her tastes but always knows just what to say—and has an unexpectedly metallic taste in music while she's at it (have you ever heard of demon hunter? oh, you wait, best bass lines i've ever heard)
she sees buck oliver walking into her classroom and invites him to sit next to her, because she hears the muttering and sees the suspicious glances and thinks not in my school
she accepts jules as part of her friend group without question, because she knows what it's like to be lonely and abandoned, and doesn't bat an eye before giving her an extra rice krispie treat at lunch because she said she liked them
iv.
she decides to become a washington one day, completely out of the blue, and it's all marvin's doing because he's the one who finally points out that y'know, she's lived with us for four years now, might as well make this thing official
she is in the washington family and the family of the church, and doesn't need to think about those old memories anymore because she's never felt so wanted
she leads a boy to becoming a christian, a foster care boy who was tossed around for seven years before he went to the petersons, and marvels at how things are coming full circle
she won't be stopped from serving food to the homeless or ripping weeds and thorns and bushes out of abandoned lots for new houses because i'm serving the least of these, and if you want to put an end to this i'd like to see you try
she happens to be a lot better at school than she'd been given credit for, determined to earn college and get scholarships because ed and elaine—mom and dad—have provided for her enough and it's time that they see their returns
she double majors in social work and child psychology; she fights tooth and nail for foster kids because this system is broken broken broken and she'll do whatever she can to fix it
she leads charges and bandages wounds, she nurtures and battles, she gets married and fosters and adopts, she advocates and organizes and makes voices heard, and she places above all the desires of the one who brought her here
she refuses to settle for surviving and who lives and laughs and loves and teaches and fights because it's all so risky, and really, that's the thrill of it, isn't it?
her memories are full to the brim with warmth and beauty and joy and contentment, clear and rich and vivid, and knows that whatever she felt once is nothing—she's been brought here now, she is whole, and she is His.