The Beach House

I chocked back my tears as I stabbed at my scrambled eggs. “James, why so glum chum?” the sic-kingly sweet voice of my mother asked,

I shrugged and sipped the orange juice that was kindly placed out in front of me. “Hey mom?” I asked wiping my mouth, the bushy brown hair whipped around to face me with concern.

“Yeah baby?” she asked taking a seat across from me, I looked down at the breakfast plate my mother had prepared for me, “So, I was thinking that maybe-I would go to NYU early,” I replied quickly.

At that moment my mom dropped her coffee mug, “Ugh!” she cried quickly standing up and grabbing a wet paper towel, “Why?” she asked quickly wiping down the mess.

I shrugged and moved my book out of the way of the over-spilling mess. “I don’t know. I’m eager to get down there and stuff. Plus I only have like three weeks left till I have to go, why not early?” I asked.

I could tell my words hurt her, that she secretly wished I wasn’t going to leave at all, and that I would stay with her forever. “Jamie?” she asked, as she stood so still it looked as if she was dead in place, “Why do you really want to leave, leave us?”

I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks, “I never ever want to leave, I have to. I need to grow up! You know this; I want to embark on my career, the thing I love.”

My voice grew lower, “And it’s not like you’ll never see me again,” but my mothers coy words cut in, “You’ll see me on Broadway, I know James! But I’m scared, scared for you! It’s a risky world, New York. I just want you to be safe.”

I nodded and picked up my plate, “I’m going start packing okay,” I asked putting the full plate on the counter. She nodded and continued to stare at the once, coffee stained spot.

“Jamie….how long till you leave?” she asked.

I stopped on my spot, right in front of the stairs, “Two days.”

--

Picking up and putting old memories into a small brown box is strange. You reflex the past, and then look into the present. It’s something strangely chilling yet undeniably relaxing.

The old memories hit me like a wave, I was growing up, and it scared me. When I was younger it was like I had a lifetime of dreams, and a lifetime to fulfill them.

But now, now that I was going to college, facing the world as I new it, head on it was suddenly dark, and mysterious.

Placing old photographs, old videos, and old stuffed animals into a rugged box meant moving on. Moving on alone.

There was a quiet knock on my door, “Jamie?” I looked up from one of the many boxes I was working on to find a small boy at my door.

“Hey Dylan.” I smiled standing up straight. “Mom told me you were leaving soon,” I looked at boy I called my brother; he was everything that I loved, and loathed.

He was sweet, kind, funny, loving, always there to listen, and then he was mean, annoying, undoubtedly obnoxious, and everything I ever knew.

“Yeah, to college bud.” Dylan nodded and took a seat at the foot of my bed, “what if I told you not to leave?” Dylan asked, I chuckled and took a seat right next to him,

“I would say, I have to and that I’d miss you-but! That I will visit and send you many fun things,” I replied trying to crack a smile.

Dylan nodded and let his frown show, “You know, I don’t want you to go right?” he asked. I nodded and suddenly reached down into the box I’d recently been packing.

“Take this okay?” I asked holding it out to him, I was a picture. It was a picture I’d always loved; I was with Dylan down at the beach, holding his by his waist upside down.

Dylan studied the picture carefully, “I don’t remember this.” He replied, I nodded and pointed to his giggling face,

“You my friend where only four, it was mom and dad’s anniversary and we went down to the beach for an outing, and you begged me to swing you around like that!” I smiled remember that day ever so clearly.

“Hey Jamie?” Dylan asked looking up, I nodded and ignored the wet tears sliding down his face, “Don’t leave!” he cried pulling me into a tight hug,

I have to squirt, I have to.”