P4+KHamilton

Home
I've always lived on Iowa. Sometimes I wonder what it must be like to live in a different house, but I like it here. My parents bought this house from my grandparents. My dad has lived here since he was six. My parents are like gypsies with the rooms of our house. They are constantly remodeling. They are like lost painters never able to decide how to finish their works. They are slaves to this house. My father doesn't like to leave unless he has to. Sure we go out to eat or on a drive, but he never strays too far for too long. It's as if this house has him on a leash and it's kind of haunting to think about. Our house is indeed our home although a lot of unpleasant and private things have happened here. In each room something good and something bad, memories, having to live with each other. Focusing on the nice thing that has taken place there isn't always easy. If you look at certain spots or furniture in the room you can't help but feel that pang of sadness that hides in your memory. The bike trail is basically our backyard, which is also enjoyable and scary. I am always timid when it rains because I think the riverbed will flood and I will drown with my house. The massive telephone poles are also a source of fear stalking around my house. One day the poles will give into wind and gravity will smash into my room. Crazy homeless people yelling. Make sure the windows and doors are locked when it's dark, you never know. Finding rocks arranged like chairs and playing scientists. The sky scraping trees on one side of our front yard so that we don't have to look at the neighbors dirty broken boat that hasn't moved from that old driveway since I was born. Dog hair piled up in the corners of all the rooms in my house, but no one gets mad at Max, because we love him too much and we know we will miss it when he is gone.

Eyes
My family has variety in our eyes. Dad's are like sharp icicles, which only hurt if you grab the point, but the pain never lasts because the icicle always melts. His eyes are two salty drops of the sea, longing to be reunited with their larger counterpart. Katie also has blue eyes but they are like the sky that doesn't always stay the same shade, and is often covered by emotional clouds. Her eyes are flecks of blue glitter reflecting light in all directions but never settling in one place. My eyes are like meadows with one big yellow sunflower waiting in the middle to be seen. Two great vines forever reaching outward, looking for a place to grab hold of and stay happy there. My mother’s eyes are two candles that burn with the scent of memories and are two cups of hot chocolate always warm and eager to comfort.

Division
Everyone is joined and separated by different categories. Age won't let some people who could be very happy and close have the chance to be so. Some people are rightfully separated but if the intentions were acceptable there is no reason to be apart. The way you look is really important no matter how you feel about it. When you look at someone for the first time you automatically see him or her in a certain light. This holds true for me because I am not always treated the way I believe I should be by strangers. Being of a different race than most of my peers is sometimes troublesome, we don't have the same history or values so it is sometimes harder to connect with them.

Names
My name means "Irish Maiden." Two always comes to mind because of the two E's and L's. My name sounds green. It feels like a warm drink being poured into a mug on a cold and lonely night. My name is distance, for I've never grown accustomed to it. My name is a stranger that I have yet to know.

Moon over Iowa
Mary Moon. She moved in almost two years ago, five houses down. A lonely old lady who made and sold raggedy Ann and Andy dolls used to live there, but she left to be closer to her family. Mary used to make a living taking care of her mother, but she died a few weeks ago. My parents go over to her house all the time to play cards. My mom hasn't made dinner like she used to since Mary moved in. I like Mary, she is nice but she is an unusual person. Mary has led an exciting life, she used to be a vegas showgirl and was in television for a little while.

They don't know
They don't know who we really are. They take one look and assume we are trouble, then thats it. We aren't all bad, we are like the rest of people, some good and some bad. We express our morbid fascination unlike most people who dismiss it as "weird." I think we are sometimes better off than most, because we are not afraid to dress unconventionally or wear our hair in an offbeat fashion. Most of the time we are surrounded by normal people and we are the ones who feel intimidated, although most of us do intentionally try to draw attention to ourselves, we are aware that the attention isn't always welcoming. We can see you when you stare at us and make faces that look like the scared face of a defensless human in the presence of a monster. Did you think that we couldn't?

Em
She has lived across the street forever. She lost her husband and then her cat, and now she is alone. I think she was a chemist, but now I'm pretty sure she is retired. She is Columbian, and still has a strong accent even after living here for so long. She is a tiny and pretty well-preserved little old lady. I babysat her house and cats once, and even recorded words in English on a tape recorder for her brother who was visiting from Columbia. We have borrowed cups of sugar and numerous eggs on saturday mornings when we were starving for pancakes but lacked the ingredients. She has always been nice, and kind enough to inform us of any drama going on within the neighbors.

Tragedy
Girls Scouts. The epitome of an american good-girl childhood experience. The bonding, the learning, and earning of good values and environmental helping. The parent participation and everlasting friendship. I only got to Brownies. I never understood why, but none of the other girls ever liked me. I wasn't mean or rude. I thought maybe I was too fat or too ugly, because I certainly was willing to make friends and I definitley was not trying to isolate myself. The other girls looked down on me, or at least that was the impression I got when the would look at me, look away, and never speak to me. I don't remember very well how involved my mother actually was in the program but I know she hates most school and parent functions and Girl Scouts is basically the same thing. I could always sense that the girls disliked me and I think I just eventually quit because I felt so unwelcomed. So much for normalcy.

Chances
I never knew why. I never understood why I didn't like him. He was my uncle, but I didn't like him. I liked all of my other uncles, and he was just as nice as they are. He passed away. I never gave him a chance. I never got close and I will never know him. My mothers brother, he couldn't have been bad. He was real family, and I never gave him a chance. Move on now, but always look back at what could have been.

Want
Ana and Adam, what a sad couple. Ana thinks its a big basket full of love and kisses but Adam knows what he's doing. He lets her think that, but he knows. He doesn't tell her that he loves her, but Ana figures he just isn't that type. He doesn't let her go to his house or ever meet his parents, but Ana stopped asking and forgot that it matters. Ana tells Adam she loves and cares for him, and if she tells him enough, maybe one day he will change and start saying it back. Ana tells Adam how happy it would make her if he only just touched her face, touched her face like he just wanted to for once. How thats what people who love eachother do, and thinks thats what they are, aren't they? Ana gives him time and doesn't always ask why he does or doesn't do what he does. Adam lets Ana think they are together but he wouldn't say that they exactly are, and Ana lets herself think that eventually he will say it and they will be together for real.