Grandma's Survival Kit

In every young girl’s life, there’s that one special woman that she aspires to emulate. NO! No!  I am not talking about losing your identity and replacing it with someone else's.  On the contrary, you purge that which is useless and replace it with a beneficial attribute.  This may sound difficult, but it’s not. We all have a living testimony in our lives. It may be an Aunt May, cousin Violet or Big Momma that lives next door. No matter whom it is, that person is within us. A part of us yearn to have that special something among our valued possessions. With it we can get the strength and guidance that we so desperately need.

All That Matters

I woke up this morning with a lump in my throat. My demanding coughs couldn’t nudge the stubborn thick mass that was lodged in my throat. It wouldn’t budge. I didn’t have the strength to force the issue at hand. Since I was able to breathe, I decided to get myself together for the start of the work week. I placed my right hand underneath the back of my right knee. I swung it across my left leg building enough momentum to launch myself upright to the edge of my king size bed.

Oh! What a night I had. Once again, I was outnumbered by my flesh, and Marcus. I spoon fed his insatiable appetite until he collapsed from exhaustion.

Monday morning greeted my flesh and my trusty sidekicks – pain and guilt with no introduction. It entered without as much as a warning. It was here and I had to face it alone.

Marcus was gone. He abandoned our warm cozy king size bed to return to his loving wife and kids in the country. I was left to face the world in double-pain by myself.

I

A Teachable Moment

Hi my name is Joshua Elander-Handover III. I am a senior at M. J. Sterling High School. The school was named after one of Orchard Grove’s most prominent citizen, Marcus Jonathan Sterling. He was once the Mayor of our fine town. I never had the honor to meet the guy, however, we both have something in common – our birthday is on March 3rd. Every year, since his untimely death, the townspeople, my family and I included, would celebrate the third day in March as if it was the super bowl of all birthdays. The celebration would commence the first Friday in March and every weekend thereafter. We would have a “mother” of a celebration in his memory.I have lived in Orchard Grove all my life. I couldn’t imagine anywhere else in the world I would rather live. My family and I live less than two miles from downtown. Our home is located at 712 Richmen Trail. If you were going west on Highmen Avenue, you would make a right turn onto Richmen Trail. My home is the second two story brick house from the corner. Every morning, I get up around five to deliver the Orchard Gazette. I have been delivering the paper since I was thirteen. I try to be extremely quiet so not to disturb any of my family members, especially my baby sister Mandy. Her real name is Mandrel Nya Elander-Handover. She is the youngest of six children.

I have the best parents in the universe, if I must say so myself. Their union doesn’t bother most of the townspeople. Of course, there are those that seem to think that everyone should conduct their lives according to what they define as right. And if you refuse to be pigeon holed, they’ll try to burn you at the stake in the town square. They don’t see anything wrong with them per se. Their ways are the only ways that matters. Everybody else is wrong and needs to conform to the “right” way – their way. Anyway, my parents have been married for the past twenty years. That says a lot because divorce in our community and in our country is so prevalent.

Most of my friends and schoolmates are on their second, third and in some cases their fourth stepparent. My best friend Samaria Antoinette Lambert, I call her Sam for short, is one of those unfortunate kids that seemed to be in the stepparent twilight zone. Her parents divorced when she was around seven. Her father never remarried. Instead, he elected to have a live-in girlfriend named Kristy. She was nineteen when he moved her in. She was only four years older than Sam and three years older than me. The entire neighborhood was in a state of shock after hearing about it. Christy’s parents were totally humiliated. They eventually moved to another town.

And then the unthinkable snatched the town's attention. Highschool dgirls began to disapeare and some were reported missing. These girls were outcasted, the unpopular ones. They didn't belong to any social group or click at school. I didn't think anything of it until Sam became one of those girls.