Drops of Reality

An open mind is all you need to live. That’s what my dad told me every day. He had always dedicated our Friday nights or Saturday mornings to just us. This Saturday was no different. Yet, it was odd what we were doing.

“I was supposed to be showing you how to tie a fly for fishing, but,” he waved his hand at the window below the kitchen cabinets on the other side of the room. Large water droplets were smashing against the window, making a steady thump. The sky was crying. “So I have decided that we can do something else. And personally,” he winked, “this is way more fun.”

I climbed onto a chair at the kitchen table. “What are we doing?” I was small for an eight year old, and yet, I liked it. I loved still being able to curl into my father’s lap and fit securely without falling off. I liked getting assistance, unlike others my age. I knew I would eventually have to do things on my own, so why not prolong the day?

My dad’s face sparkled with his secretive smile. “Tying a fly of course!” My dad’s dark brown eyes matched his wavy hair that hung in front of his face. He swatted at the dangling strands to see me clearer. “Isn’t that what I said we were doing?” My parents had started their family when they were sixteen, moved into an apartment, and struggled until after high school. My mom and dad were only sixteen when she got pregnant with Savannah, and four years later I came to be, but I liked that my parents were still in their twenties and loved life.

I looked to the window, then back at my dad. “But it’s raining out.”

That secretive smile crept onto his face again. “Ah, but Jani, I mean this fly.” He slid a jar to me on the other side of the table. A small black fly buzzed inside of it angrily, trying to get through the glass.

“A real fly?”

The man across the table was so happy his leg jumped up and down as he untangled the wad of string he found. “Not to worry Rainy Jani, we won’t hurt it in the least.”

I held the jar in my hand, inspecting the ferocious fly. “Daddy, are we going to walk this fly with that string?”

The table wobbled as my dad’s frame shook with his laughter. “I guess we are.”

The front door swung open and hit the table behind it. The rain and wind rushed inside, filling the house with a cold, unwelcome feeling. “Cam? Can you go and get the rest of the groceries?” My mom stormed into the kitchen holding paper bags filled with groceries, and soaked from head to toe. “I just can’t go out there again.”

“I told you it was going to start storming. You should have waited to go shopping.” But he laughed and went out to get them after my mom squeezed her hair out in the sink.

Savannah, my older sister, ran into the kitchen, sliding on her socks and making an entrance that made me jealous of her more than I already was. She was beautiful, coordinated, outgoing in school, and loved to make my mom proud. And even though I knew my mother loved me, she seemed to love Savannah more.

“Hey mom,” Savannah screamed with excitement. “Guess what, guess what, guess WHAT?”

Savannah’s best friend Kara sauntered into the room then, her hair in a pile on the top of her head, one of my mom’s dresses hanging off of her like a bed sheet. And my mom’s favorite necklace sparkled from her thin neck like precious jewels in the sun.

I sunk in my seat, knowing that my mom was already in a horrible mood. This was just going to make everything worse. But to my surprise, my mom only laughed. “Well look at you!” she cooed, “Are you going to the ball tonight?”

Kara placed her hands on her hips, her head tilted to the side. “I’m not eight.”

My mom only smiled at the comment.

Kara pushed her red bushy hair out of her face. “I’m going out on a date.”

“Oh that’s right! With a boy in your class I bet.”

Savannah whipped her head around, glaring at my mom, her expression said Who else? Kara and Savannah left the room under my mother’s eye. The front door swung open again, my dad carrying two paper bags filled with groceries. He stopped at the doorway and shook out his hair. Cold droplets of water splashed my face and chest.

“Daddy!” I screamed in shock and amusement.

He laughed. “Sorry honey.”

The rip wasn’t as loud as the crash that followed. One of the paper bags my dad was holding had been soaked through with water, the bottom giving into the weight of the food. Cans of food clattered to the ground and rolled across the floor. A carton of milk smashed open on impact, flowing white liquid all over the newly washed floor, and a loaf of bread landed on my dad’s soaking sneakers.

I surveyed the scene under me, and looked to see my parent’s reaction. My mom had stopped with her hand on the handle of the refrigerator, her eyes locked on the milk jug which had stopped pouring milk everywhere, and broke out laughing.

My dad did too, placing the other bag on the counter and took my mom in his arms. They laughed together, looking down at the mess on the floor. I couldn’t help but join in. After all, these family moments were hard to come by in this household.



I took my juice box out of my paper bag and handed it over to Tyson. He in turn handed me his apple juice. His eyes were the same color as his golden hair, shining a little in the florescent lights above us. Skin stretched over his bones with nothing in between, showing all knobs of his skeleton. He was too skinny, and yet could eat as much as my dad.

Tyson smiled in thanks, his teeth gleaming.

“Do you have to go tomorrow?” I asked, not looking in his direction as I tried to shove the straw into the juice box.

Tyson took it back without asking and stuck the straw in it for me. “My mom and dad say yes. We have to move to where the jobs are.”

Tyson was my best friend, and I thought he always would be. Its that feeling you have when your little that you introduce yourself to a person, and you are immediately friends. Its so simple, so easy, and so careless.

“You don’t need a job,” I informed him, “you’re eight.”

He shrugged. “Guess grown ups do. My mom says that’s how they get money.”

I frowned. “Doesn’t money come from the bank?”

He shrugged again. Tyson grabbed his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and brought it to his mouth. “That’s what I thought.” He took a bit of the sandwich, chewing fast.

I followed his lead and dug into my bag for my own sandwich.

As a young child it can be hard to grasp some concepts of life. Therefore its can be easier to be a child, and other times it can be even harder to know that you are helpless in the acts of adults.

The lunch room was crowded with kids running between tables, trying to find their friends. The room smelt of some mystery meat I didn’t want to know about. Tyson and I always sat at this table, in the same spot day after day. He was my only real friend at school, my best friend and neighbor, and now he was leaving. Who was I going to eat lunch with now?

“Hey Jani?”

I looked up from my sandwich to stare at Tyson’s golden eyes, almost glowing compared to his dirty blond hair. “Yeah?”

He held out a small bag to me. “You want one of my cookies?”

I grinned, “Just as long as they’re chocolate chip.”

“They always are.”

A voice rang over the yells and screams of all the children in the cafeteria, yelling out a name I didn’t want to be screamed like that, like there was something wrong. Not now. “Jani Remington?”

My back went straight up, looking to the man who had called over the heads of the people along the table. I made eye contact with him rather than answering.

Tyson dropped his sandwich, letting it splat on the floor. “Dad?”

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it was lodged too tightly. This was one of those moments where, as a young girl, its impossible to fully grasp the concept at hand. But the look adults give you and the things they lie about you make you feel better in the end hurt you more than you thought was possible. Tyson’s dad did not look happy to be here. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair sticking up like he had been running his fingers through it, and he wasn’t smiling. Tyson’s father never stopped smiling.

He stumbled through the mass of kids to crouch down beside me. “I’m here to pick you up Jani. Do you think you could grab what you need so we can go?”

I didn’t have time to digest what he said before Tyson cut in. “Why?”

The man looked to his son. “Jani’s mom asked me to come get her. She can’t right now, and Jani is needed.”

Tyson scowled. “Is it her dad? Is he sick again?”

I turned my head to look at Tyson. Right, he knew. He knew everything about me, everything about my family, and everything about my dad. I wanted to say no to my friend, no to myself that my dad hadn’t gotten sick again. Just yesterday we were all at home together eating dinner, watching movies, having a popcorn fight. I knew it wouldn’t help to think about it now. It never did.

Tyson’s dad’s eyes filled with tears as he looked to me. “Yes, Jani’s dad is sick again.”



The hospital was cold, smelled funny, and wasn’t a happy place. There were no colors, no one was ever smiling, and there was never a time I came here when I wasn’t crying. Like now.

My dad was sick again. That’s all I needed to hear. They had done this once when I was young. I didn’t remember it much, but I did remember this place. My dad had already spent a year in this hospital when I was six. I had never come with, but I knew what my dad looked like when he went in, and when he came out. It was never good.

“It looks like they’re back.” Doctor Cory said with as much sympathy as he could for a person he had just met. “And they’re in your brain this time. That’s why you had the seizure.”

My mom cried on the other side of my father. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and out of her face so she wouldn’t cry all over it.

“Honey,” she whispered to my dad. He was sitting in a hospital bed, his head bowed so his hair could hide his face from us.

“I though the treatment last year got rid of all the Mets,” Savannah stated with such authority I almost thought she was a grown up.

The doctor looked at her with kind, gentle eyes that showed almost too much wisdom. “Well it did, for awhile. I spoke to your previous doctor and he’s on his way up here now to come and talk to you about your options Cameron.” Doctor Cory left the room, shutting the door behind him.

My mom placed her face in her hands and started to cry. Savannah stayed in the corner with her arms around herself. It seemed like she was trying to fade into the walls. Disappear without a trace.

I crawled onto my dad’s bed and went right up to him. He didn’t look up from his lap. I grabbed his head and thrust it up so he would look at me. His cheeks were covered with salty tears. I had never seen my dad cry before.

“Daddy,” I whispered, “you aren’t going to die. I love you too much”

His arms reached out to me and crushed me against his chest, half laughing and half crying into my hair.

Yes, an open mind. Keep an open mind and the possibilities of life are endless

Jani closed the journal, snapped it shut, and threw it across the room as hard as she could. How could she have thought this would make her feel any better? Writing down your past into a journal wasn’t as helpful as she had expected. Getting her thoughts, her feelings, and her frustrations on paper only brought them to the surface. They didn’t get rid of them like she had been told by the therapist.

“Jani, can you tell me why you did that?” Dr. Newell rearranged herself on her chair, waiting for Jani to tell her how she feels, why she did this, why she did that. But Jani didn’t want to do this anymore. She just wanted it to be over with. She only wrote that stuff to get a grip on her life as it cracked and fell apart around her. She didn’t even know how the therapist had gotten it.

“Because I don’t want to read anymore of that dumb journal,” Jani snapped.

Dr. Newell got up and went to retrieve the journal. “It’s all about healing Jani. These events obviously mean something to you if you wrote them down. You need to face what has happened to you and your family.”

“What family?”

The therapist held out the velvet bound book to her patient. “Shall we continue?”

Jani thought it over. It was either reading her journal to this woman, or going back to the police station where they would find out where to place her until she could go to her ‘home.’ Besides, this was the only thing that was keeping her out of this office for the next few weeks. If she passed this session with flying colors, she would never have to see this woman again.

She took the journal from the woman’s hands and opened it up to the next entry she had written. Another hundred pages of her feelings to go.