Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


8.03.2003  

Malia...

It was on a Sunday. I remember that fact very clearly, because our church participated in a men's softball league, and our games were on Sunday afternoons. I caught a lot of heat from the other guys for having to sit out the game, but there was no way I was going to miss this one. I told her that she'd better realize just how much it meant if I was giving up a softball game in order to be there. Of course, I would have felt tremendously guilty if I hadn't been there, 'cause I'd already managed to get caught talking on the phone during the homecoming game. What's the big deal about that, you ask? Everyone talks on the phone during games, right? Well, I was talking while the homecoming court was being presented. Still, nothing horrible about that, right? Wrong. She was on the homecoming court. And she saw me talking on the phone. While *she* was being presented. Yeah, the decision to skip the softball game wasn't very difficult.



Being back there was very surreal. The sun was shining relentlessly in the late afternoon, and the humidity was enough to make my face shine with an angelic glow. Stop laughing...I know what you're thinking. Mom and dad spotted me, and we went to our seats. I felt rather important sitting there in the reserved section; mom told me it was just because everyone else didn't want to have to deal with the crowd, so the ticket fell to me. Ok, whatever makes 'em happy, right? We waited with the rest of the anxious throng, to which I felt some strange connection, if only because we were all at the collective mercy of Those Running The Program. I remembered what that felt like, even though it had been several years since I'd directly experienced the force of their influence. I could pick out Mr. So-and-so, and Mrs. Whatsherface. Oh, and Mr. Uehara...who could forget him? In my heyday, I'd done my best to drive all of 'em nuts; now, I had the sneaky feeling that they saw me in the crowd, and decided to make me wait even longer, so as to enact upon me some twisted (but delicious), long-awaited revenge.



Mom couldn't see her. I spotted her and said, "she's the one in the black with the funny hat on...can't you see her?" Mom only partially appreciated my help; they all wore black with funny hats. Seeing her there, it somehow erased all the turmoil and frustration of the years gone by. I remembered all the yelling, the crying, the door slamming and phone throwing. I remembered the things I'd said to her that I wished I hadn't; I remembered the things I hadn't, but wished I did. For some reason, after all the crap she'd put everyone through, all the stupid things she'd said and done, I found myself with a lump in my throat, and a desperate sort of pride in my chest. She was my baby sister, and she was graduating. So what if it almost didn't happen? She was up there, and that was all that mattered to me just then. That was what it was like to sit on the lawn at my old high school on that Sunday afternoon under the sticky sun, with friends and family being baked together into what seemed like one big sticky bun.



I thought about that afternoon for a long time after that. I still do. I thought about how proud of her I felt, and how much I love her, and whether she realizes it or not. I think about the ways she still holds people at arms length, and has a hard time loving and accepting love, especially from those who don't always know how to give it. I don't get mad at her, though; how could I? If ever I do, God reminds me that that's how I treat Him, and that He still finds Himself with a lump in His throat when I somehow break through and graduate from one stage of life to the next, no matter how ugly my grades are. And believe me, there've been some ugly ones ;)



Oh, our softball team managed to win without me playing third base. We would later go on to stomp through the loser's bracket and make it all the way to the finals. I didn't miss another game all season.

posted by Bolo | 3:04 PM
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