Set Fire to the Rain
Past
Sometimes I feel like I’m ready to fall in love, but then I realize it’s not love I desire, its companionship, company, friends. My life had been empty of human compassion since my mother died. I kept to myself and others didn’t reach out. I grew into a depression so deep and dark I felt as if nothing could drag me back up from the depths of my own personal hell. My father was there in the physical sense, lying in that hospital bed, but I knew not if mind, his spirit was still with me. I used to visit him often, hoping my presence would be enough to wake him.
I cried often, after the accident. I may have been young but I knew enough that people would take me away. I had no other family close, so I was taken to my Aunts, my father’s sister. I had only met her a couple of times and I wasn’t sure how I was going to be treated. She had the most beautiful face, a soft expression, and chocolate brown eyes that reminded me of my father. Her dark hair matched her eyes and was cut to frame her face.
She had children of her own, and at first I took almost all of her time, being the youngest of them all and going through turmoil. I was eight and her children were thirteen and sixteen. The oldest, a girl, didn’t pay attention to me. I guess to her I was just one more person in her way of being noticed by her parents. She always fussed and created fights just to switch attention to her. She looked nothing like her mother. She had hair the color of a flame, skin so pale. Her eyes were a piercing blue.
The boy, thirteen, noticed me, but kept his distance. He had unruly black hair and a long, awkward body that he hadn’t quiet grown in to yet. He was always out with his friends and came home at dark in time for dinner and then was not seen for the rest of the night. It was a wonder I knew he was there at all.
I had a mass of waves of dark brown hair and eyes the color of the ocean, soft, clear skin, no freckles, no beauty marks. I had a small body, lithe and agile. I would have been great at sports, but nothing sparked my interest.
One day, during the Christmas season, I was out shopping with my Aunt, a light snow drifted down after a bad snowstorm blew through. My ninth birthday had just passed and I knew my birthday presents were my Christmas presents. I had nothing to look forward to, so I looked in the windows of the stores we passed, at all the happy people. I stopped as I walked by a dance studio. I watched as the girls inside bounded and leaped with the grace of a tiger. One girl danced with passion in every movement she made. I couldn’t help but watch in wonder and at the end of her dance I felt close to tears.
My Aunt watched me and noticed my interest. She told me if I wanted to, I could start at the beginning of January, when they opened back up after the holiday. For the first time in a long time, I was filled with happiness and excitement.
It was my first Christmas without my parents. I still cried for them, but I knew that I had to move on. Nothing could bring them back to me. I tried to participate to holiday activities to the best that I could. The only thing that got me through was my anticipation of going to a ballet academy.
I cried often, after the accident. I may have been young but I knew enough that people would take me away. I had no other family close, so I was taken to my Aunts, my father’s sister. I had only met her a couple of times and I wasn’t sure how I was going to be treated. She had the most beautiful face, a soft expression, and chocolate brown eyes that reminded me of my father. Her dark hair matched her eyes and was cut to frame her face.
She had children of her own, and at first I took almost all of her time, being the youngest of them all and going through turmoil. I was eight and her children were thirteen and sixteen. The oldest, a girl, didn’t pay attention to me. I guess to her I was just one more person in her way of being noticed by her parents. She always fussed and created fights just to switch attention to her. She looked nothing like her mother. She had hair the color of a flame, skin so pale. Her eyes were a piercing blue.
The boy, thirteen, noticed me, but kept his distance. He had unruly black hair and a long, awkward body that he hadn’t quiet grown in to yet. He was always out with his friends and came home at dark in time for dinner and then was not seen for the rest of the night. It was a wonder I knew he was there at all.
I had a mass of waves of dark brown hair and eyes the color of the ocean, soft, clear skin, no freckles, no beauty marks. I had a small body, lithe and agile. I would have been great at sports, but nothing sparked my interest.
One day, during the Christmas season, I was out shopping with my Aunt, a light snow drifted down after a bad snowstorm blew through. My ninth birthday had just passed and I knew my birthday presents were my Christmas presents. I had nothing to look forward to, so I looked in the windows of the stores we passed, at all the happy people. I stopped as I walked by a dance studio. I watched as the girls inside bounded and leaped with the grace of a tiger. One girl danced with passion in every movement she made. I couldn’t help but watch in wonder and at the end of her dance I felt close to tears.
My Aunt watched me and noticed my interest. She told me if I wanted to, I could start at the beginning of January, when they opened back up after the holiday. For the first time in a long time, I was filled with happiness and excitement.
It was my first Christmas without my parents. I still cried for them, but I knew that I had to move on. Nothing could bring them back to me. I tried to participate to holiday activities to the best that I could. The only thing that got me through was my anticipation of going to a ballet academy.