Eulogy of Childhood
Eulogy of Childhood
I awoke on the couch; sleep filled my eyes and ears, taking control of my senses.
At six, I was too young for my childhood to end, but a part of it had kicked the bucket, and today was the funeral.
I rubbed my eyes, seeing the day for the first time. The weather matched my mood; dark clouds hung aloft, creating a harrowing ambiance. Kurt was still deep in slumber on the bed across from mine. His light blonde hair swept over his face, masking his tear stained expression. Somebody had thrown thick blankets over us; I kicked mine off and watched as fell to the ground. I stayed on the unmade bed for a few more minutes, watching my brother sleep and taking in the horror of it all.
The bright lights from last night had created burned a horrible, life-altering memory in my head; my ears were still ringing from the all the sirens. My memory was full of sympathetic looks from hospital workers and the voices of doctors, quietly calling my family in to talk. I knew what they weren’t telling me; I was smart girl and that I had that horrible gut feeling eating me away. I fell asleep somewhere between here and the hospital, bringing myself in to a temporary safe haven from the frightening real world.
My feet and legs were sore from my atypical sleep position; they hurt something terrible. I wandered into the doorway of the kitchen. The lighting was dim, and for a few seconds, I was touring the castle in Europe all over again. The house had the same sad, lonely essence as the castle. But sadly, I was swiftly transported to the current world. My feet hit the lightly padded flooring, making a soft thump, thump sound and creating an ironic rhythm.
I stood aloof in the hallway, staring at all the pretty pictures that had been taken of the years. Kurt and I, Ruth and I, Troy and I, all four of us, my parents’ wedding, school pictures of Ruth and Troy. Any given household in the country would have these same pictures, but no other family’s pictures could ever amount to anything that ours did. I stood in the hallway for a while longer, attempting to memorize every petty detail of every petty photograph.
I paused before entering the kitchen, listening to my aunts’ soft voices, before revealing my presence.
They stopped talking and a fake smile met their lips. I could see through their flimsy façade, I knew everything wasn’t okay.
“Are you hungry, Beth?” Aunt Kendra asked softly, her smile never leaving her lips. This was a play, and she wasn’t going to abandon her character.
I shook my head, silently. Neither responded, nor did they abandon their roles. I knew they wouldn’t until the director told them to.
I took a step closer and was able to clearly see my aunts’ shadowed faces. Wrinkles I never knew existed were now visible, and the dark spots under their eyes were now as unequivocal as a rain cloud on a sunny day.
Without thinking, I ran forward into Aunt Kendra’s waiting arms. She embraced me, and I sobbed. I buried my face deep into her shoulder, the familiar aroma comforting and heart-distressing. My heavy sobs took my breath from me, as the mile would a runner. I cried through closed eyes, and when I bothered to open them and look up, I saw something I’d never seen before. An adult crying.
Those were the final words of the eulogy of my childhood. The funeral was over; there was nothing left to do but weep.
At six, I was too young for my childhood to end, but a part of it had kicked the bucket, and today was the funeral.
I rubbed my eyes, seeing the day for the first time. The weather matched my mood; dark clouds hung aloft, creating a harrowing ambiance. Kurt was still deep in slumber on the bed across from mine. His light blonde hair swept over his face, masking his tear stained expression. Somebody had thrown thick blankets over us; I kicked mine off and watched as fell to the ground. I stayed on the unmade bed for a few more minutes, watching my brother sleep and taking in the horror of it all.
The bright lights from last night had created burned a horrible, life-altering memory in my head; my ears were still ringing from the all the sirens. My memory was full of sympathetic looks from hospital workers and the voices of doctors, quietly calling my family in to talk. I knew what they weren’t telling me; I was smart girl and that I had that horrible gut feeling eating me away. I fell asleep somewhere between here and the hospital, bringing myself in to a temporary safe haven from the frightening real world.
My feet and legs were sore from my atypical sleep position; they hurt something terrible. I wandered into the doorway of the kitchen. The lighting was dim, and for a few seconds, I was touring the castle in Europe all over again. The house had the same sad, lonely essence as the castle. But sadly, I was swiftly transported to the current world. My feet hit the lightly padded flooring, making a soft thump, thump sound and creating an ironic rhythm.
I stood aloof in the hallway, staring at all the pretty pictures that had been taken of the years. Kurt and I, Ruth and I, Troy and I, all four of us, my parents’ wedding, school pictures of Ruth and Troy. Any given household in the country would have these same pictures, but no other family’s pictures could ever amount to anything that ours did. I stood in the hallway for a while longer, attempting to memorize every petty detail of every petty photograph.
I paused before entering the kitchen, listening to my aunts’ soft voices, before revealing my presence.
They stopped talking and a fake smile met their lips. I could see through their flimsy façade, I knew everything wasn’t okay.
“Are you hungry, Beth?” Aunt Kendra asked softly, her smile never leaving her lips. This was a play, and she wasn’t going to abandon her character.
I shook my head, silently. Neither responded, nor did they abandon their roles. I knew they wouldn’t until the director told them to.
I took a step closer and was able to clearly see my aunts’ shadowed faces. Wrinkles I never knew existed were now visible, and the dark spots under their eyes were now as unequivocal as a rain cloud on a sunny day.
Without thinking, I ran forward into Aunt Kendra’s waiting arms. She embraced me, and I sobbed. I buried my face deep into her shoulder, the familiar aroma comforting and heart-distressing. My heavy sobs took my breath from me, as the mile would a runner. I cried through closed eyes, and when I bothered to open them and look up, I saw something I’d never seen before. An adult crying.
Those were the final words of the eulogy of my childhood. The funeral was over; there was nothing left to do but weep.