…I felt bad just a second later, realizing that what I said might have been harsh.
“I’m sorry” I said, “I know your trying and I know this isn’t easy.” “No you don’t.” He answered sharply. He rolled his eyes and slumped into his chair. He sighed. I knew at that point nothing could be the same. Nothing had been the same since I told my parents he needed help. Our relationship took a hit when he started taking money from me to buy alcohol and coming home drunk at 4pm. A part of me just feels bad and another part of me wants to tell him to man up and deal with it… SCENE 1 I scaled the multiple groups of college runners hoping to spot him as the announcer called for his event. I recognized his curly hair in the sea of competitors as he made his way to the starting point. The boys lined up next to one another as the red sea of college kids began to part, revealing the track. One by one they got in starting position, each of them taking one last glance at their supporters before attempting to reach their personal goal. I waved, hoping he would spot me. Eventually, his hazel eyes met mine. He had always been more of the suffer-in-silence type, but underneath his male genetics that forced him to bury anything that could come off as weak, I sensed his bubbling anxiety. Years of living with, arguing with, and relying on him allowed me to read him like a book. I noticed the same gloomy aura that plagued his being whenever my parents fought. I had spent years feeling as if there was a parachute tied to my back every time I tried to escape. He’d always helped me shake it off. He would always say “no matter what happens, everything will be okay”. He constantly found ways to keep me afloat, even when he was drowning. Today, his parachute was the fear of losing everything he had worked toward. I kept my eyes locked to his as the announcer raised the gun to the sky. Moments before he pulled the trigger signaling the boys to run, I mouthed “no matter what happens, everything will be ok”. The corners of his mouth lifted as he turned his head and stared straight. His face became tense and I could tell he was motivated to win. I held my ears as the announcer pulled the trigger. The outcomes of distance races are hard to forecast because there’s so much time for change. After about 10 minutes, I saw a uniform in the distance about to claim first. I squinted my eyes trying to make out who it was. Suddenly, I noticed the same hazel eyes that had been fearing loss just a few minutes before. He smiled as his stride picked up and he began to sprint to assure his victory. Oh no. I realized there was someone right behind him that he did not see. I screamed “RIGHT BEHIND YOU COLLIN! RUN!!!” His grin faded as he turned his head and saw the boy shortly behind him in pursuit of the same thing. He picked up his speed. I was amazed by how much his endurance had grown. He crossed the finish line a few seconds before the other boy. When his foot went over the line, I felt a wave of pride spill over me. The happiness I felt watching him succeed was unlike anything I had felt before. I watched as he walked away to converse with teammates and his coaches. It stung a little that he had overlooked my presence. If I had known this was only a preview of the future, I would have cherished the moment more. SCENE 2 “So how are you? How is it here?” I asked him. I leaned back against the uncomfortable chair in the lobby. The lights were low. The floor was covered with a brown rug. The secretary sat at the desk and looked over every few minutes. “It’s good. I’m fine” I saw his eyes which were always the window to his emotions. He looked down and avoided eye contact. He looked tired and his eyelids were hanging lower than usual. I rested my hand on his shoulder. He slowly looked into my eyes and for the first time, I wasn’t the one with the parachute holding me back. It was my turn to help him escape. “Don’t feel ashamed. Don’t feel embarrassed. It’s just me… I thought your ugly ass would be a little happier to see me.” I tried to poke fun with him but my attempts were clearly failing. He chuckled, obviously faking it. I saw his A.A. notebook peering out from behind his pocket. “Did you meet anyone new in here?” I asked with a hopeful tone. “Bunch of addicts.” He shrugged off my attempt to make positive conversation. “You aren’t allowed to judge them.” I told him. I felt bad just a second later, realizing that what I said might have been harsh. “I’m sorry” I said, “I know your trying and I know this isn’t easy.” “No you don’t.” He answered sharply. He rolled his eyes and slumped into his chair. He sighed. I knew at that point nothing could be the same. Nothing had been the same since I told my parents he needed help. Our relationship took a hit when he started taking money from me to buy alcohol and coming home drunk at 4pm. A part of me just feels bad and another part of me wants to tell him to man up and deal with it. “How’s the kids?” He asked me. I felt hopeful that our conversation would turn around. “Mia and Brady are good. They’re getting so big it’s crazy. Riley is good too. She’s taking the divorce well I think… every time I try to talk to her about it she tells me that she’s happy. She says they don’t fight now that they aren’t together.” He nodded slowly and thought for a second. “Mom?” I sighed. “Still having a midlife crisis. Riley has become my responsibility whenever I’m there. I think she’s lonely” He looked at me and agreed. “You gotta be there for her.” He told me. For a moment I thought he’d returned to his original role. The big brother role that gave me advice and let me vent to him. “I’m trying. I also have school and work.” He rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Family first. Always.” His hands fidgeted. He pulled his 1 week sober A.A. chip out of his pocket and began playing with it. I held out my hand hoping he’d let me see it. He looked at me and hesitantly placed it in my hand. I could tell he took pride in it and valued it greatly. “This is just the first step. You’ll have a lot more of these pretty soon.” He took it back and shoved it in his pocket. He doesn’t like receiving praise for things. He’s hated attention for as long as I remember. In middle school our principal, Mr. Tracy, used to announce all the birthdays over the loudspeaker. Every year on April 21st, Collin would go in early just so that he could remind Mr. Tracy to skip his name. “I gotta get back for a meeting in five.” He told me. I stood up and hugged him. He had been cold and distant all night but when he hugged me, I could tell he needed it. I watched him walk through the door into the meeting room. I walked over to the desk to sign out and peered in the room. I saw him sitting in a chair in a circle with other addicts. His parachute was dragging him back. It was my turn to help him run.
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When composing my hiraeth project, I worked alone. I believe this was a good approach because I work best when I am alone and do not have any distractions. For my final draft I will most likely ask for thoughts from my parents because I believe this could help me expand the emotion I use in my hiraeth.
The most difficult part of my writing process was putting down my phone and not looking at it the entire time or stopping to check messages when I got bored. I overcame this obstacle by turning it off and putting it aside while I wrote. I did not do this in the past but I will continue to do so in the future as it helped a lot. I wrote this project at different times. I wrote some during my q-time, some while the child I nanny was having his screen time, and some on weeknights after work. I believe this was a good approach as the fragmentation of the time allowed me to go back and reread my work with a fresh mindset. I wrote this project at different places. I just had to make sure it was somewhere quiet. This is a good approach because I focus much better with quiet. I will continue to make sure I am in a quiet environment when writing in the future. I chose to write about this hiraeth because it is the most prominent loss in my life and I believe it is the things we lose that shape us. I also wrote about this because it has affected my life greatly and, while it has had some negative impact, it has driven me to make positive changes to myself and my lifestyle. My writing process includes these 6 steps:
I scaled the multiple groups of college runners hoping to spot him as the announcer called for his event. I recognized his curly hair in the sea of competitors as he made his way to the starting point. The boys lined up next to one another as the red sea of college kids began to part, revealing the track. One by one they got in starting position, each of them taking one last glance at their supporters before attempting to reach their personal goal. I waved, hoping he would spot me. Eventually, his hazel eyes met mine. He had always been more of the suffer-in-silence type, but underneath his male genetics that forced him to bury anything that could come off as weak, I sensed his bubbling anxiety. Years of living with, arguing with, and relying on him allowed me to read him like a book. I noticed the same gloomy aura that plagued his being whenever my parents fought. I had spent years trying to tread water with anchors chained to my legs and he’d helped me get rid of them. He would always say “no matter what happens, everything will be okay”. He constantly found ways to keep me afloat, even when he was drowning. Today, his anchor was the fear of losing everything he had worked toward. I kept my eyes locked to his as the announcer raised the gun to the sky. Moments before he pulled the trigger signaling the boys to run, I mouthed “no matter what happens, everything will be ok”. The corners of his mouth lifted as he turned his head and stared straight. His face became tense and I could tell he was motivated to win. I held my ears as the announcer pulled the trigger. The outcomes of distance races are hard to forecast because there’s so much time for change. After about 10 minutes, I saw a uniform in the distance about to claim first. I squinted my eyes trying to make out who it was. Suddenly, I noticed the same hazel eyes that had been fearing loss just a few minutes before. He smiled as his stride picked up and he began to sprint to assure his victory. Oh no. I realized there was someone right behind him that he did not see. I screamed “RIGHT BEHIND YOU COLLIN! RUN!!!” His grin faded as he turned his head and saw the boy shortly behind him in pursuit of the same thing. He picked up his speed. I was amazed by how much his endurance had grown. He crossed the finish line a few seconds before the other boy. When his foot went over the line, I felt a wave of pride spill over me. The happiness I felt watching him succeed was unlike anything I had felt before. He ran off the track quickly and I ran into his arms. “I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” I told him. He smiled and told me he couldn’t have done it without me. That was one of the happier moments in his college career.
*about a year later* “So how are you? How is it here?” I asked him. I leaned back against the uncomfortable chair in the lobby. The lights were low. The floor was covered with a brown rug. The secretary sat at the desk and looked over every few minutes. “It’s good. I’m fine” I saw his eyes which were always the window to his emotions. He looked down and avoided eye contact. He looked tired and his eyelids were hanging lower than usual. I rested my hand on his shoulder. He slowly looked into my eyes and for the first time, I wasn’t the one with the anchors anymore. It was my turn to keep him afloat. “Don’t feel ashamed. Don’t feel embarrassed. It’s just me… I thought your ugly ass would be a little happier to see me.” I tried to poke fun with him but my attempts were clearly failing. He chuckled, obviously faking it. I saw his A.A. notebook peering out from behind his pocket. “Did you meet anyone new in here?” I asked with a hopeful tone. “Bunch of addicts.” He shrugged off my attempt to make positive conversation. “You aren’t allowed to judge them.” I told him. I felt bad just a second later, realizing it might have been harsh. “I’m sorry” I said, “I know your trying and I know this isn’t easy.” I tried to be sympathetic. “No you don’t.” He said sharply. He rolled his eyes and slumped into his chair. He sighed. I knew at that point nothing could be the same. Nothing had been the same since I told my parents he needed help. Our relationship took a hit when he started taking money from me to buy alcohol and coming home drunk at 4pm. A part of me just feels bad and another part of me wants to tell him to man up and deal with it. “How’s the kids?” He asked me. I felt hopeful that our conversation would turn around. “Mia and Brady are good. They’re getting so big it’s crazy. Riley is good too. She’s taking the divorce well I think… every time I try to talk to her about it she tells me that she’s happy. She says they don’t fight now that they aren’t together.” He nodded slowly and thought for a second. “Mom?” I sighed. “Still having a midlife crisis. Riley has become my responsibility whenever I’m there. I think she’s lonely” He looked at me and agreed. “You gotta be there for her.” He told me. For a moment I thought he’d returned to his original role. The big brother role that gave me advice and let me vent to him. “I’m trying. I also have school and work.” He rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Family first. Always.” His hands fidgeted. He pulled his 1 week sober A.A. chip out of his pocket and began playing with it. I held out my hand hoping he’d let me see it. He looked at me and hesitantly placed it in my hand. I could tell he took pride in it and valued it greatly. “This is just the first step. You’ll have a lot more of these pretty soon.” He took it back and shoved it in his pocket. He doesn’t like receiving praise for things. He’s hated attention for as long as I remember. In elementary school Mr. Tracy , our principal, used to announce all the birthdays over the loudspeaker. Collin would get there early on his birthday just so that he could remind Mr. Tracy to skip his name. “I gotta get back for a meeting in five.” He told me. I stood up and hugged him. As I held him, I reminded him, "no matter what, everything will be ok." I could tell he needed it. I watched him walk through the door into the meeting room. I walked over to the desk to sign out and peered in the room. I saw him sitting in a chair in a circle with other addicts. I grew upset realizing how sad he was. I hated how much he resented me for telling our parents. I know our relationship can never be the same. We go months without speaking, but I do the best I can to be there for him. I would give anything to go back to that track meet. I would give anything to see him happy again. His anchors are weighing him down and I know they are heavier than mine. It's my turn to help him swim. “…as he rode out of sight, ‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!’” My grandfather closed the big book that I had listened to many times before. I spotted my brother in the corner of my eye trying to steal one of Santa’s cookies. I tattled, of course. My mother scolded him and my grandmother told her to let him be. She always had a way of defending us even when we were wrong. The drive down to Philly had been long, but it was worth it to hear my grandfather’s groggy voice recite an old story. We did this every year that we spent Christmas with our mother. She would lug all the presents to my grandmother’s house and we would sleep there so that we could be together on Christmas morning. I was in my nightgown, which was patterned a red and green plaid. Looking back, I realize it was absolutely disgusting but hey, it got me in the Christmas mood. Not to mention, I was 8 so I didn’t have much of a fashion sense. The fire crackled every once in a while, interrupting the sound of chatting adults. The only thing that changed since last year were the adults I was surrounded by. The year before had been my father’s year and this year was my mother’s year. They’d take turns with holidays. Me and my brother just tried to ignore them when they argued. Collin and I sat near the fireplace and felt our backs warm up. We always knew we were too close when it started to burn, but we love the warmth. I still enjoy that feeling to this day. Our younger sister, Riley, had been put to bed a while ago. We were young but we had already been through a lot together. He was always reminding me that even when it got bad, I should remember that there are people who have it worse. He had a way of helping me realize the good in my life. I asked him what he thought Santa would bring him. He said he wanted a new skateboard. He’d spent all year uploading videos to Youtube with his friends. They would pick a location, take video of themselves skateboarding there, and then Andy (my brother’s friend) would edit everything on his laptop. They thought it was great. I thought it was dumb. A Christmas Story came on the television. Me and my brother sat on my grandmothers soft brownish carpet with glasses of soda and watched it all the way through. I spilled my soda. I went on mission impossible to clean it up without anyone noticing. The carpet was brown anyway (no stains=no evidence). It was getting late and the adults started to shove off. My stepfather finished off his beer and gave some drunken goodbyes. My mother would end up arguing with him about it a few days later, but for now it was easiest just to order him to bed. Cousins said goodbye and we said we would see them tomorrow for Christmas dinner. Clanking of dishes and the water running hummed in my ear from the kitchen as I tried to listen to the ending of the movie. My grandfather gave us both a kiss on the forehead and went into bed, as he always did earlier than anyone else. My mother sent us to bed with hugs. I drudged up the stairs to the guest bedroom which I hated. It was always so scary in there. The closet didn’t have a door and I hated that I could see into it. It was a deep closet so all I could see was dark in the corner of my eye when I laid in bed. I jumped under the covers and felt the top of my pillow warm up. The heater was right behind the headboard and when I slept in that bed, my head was always the warmest part of my body. I would wake up sweating behind the ears and freezing everywhere else. Although my body shook with excitement, eventually I fell asleep. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I remember the way I felt trying to do so. I was craving a Christmas morning with presents and happiness and love. The next morning, I got exactly that. It’s been a while since that night and I still remember it. It’s my last memory of a Christmas where I believed in Santa. The last Christmas where I fell asleep believing in something innocent. There are a lot of things about that scene that make me want to cry, but then a lot of things that make me want to laugh. Sometimes, when I put myself in the scene enough and remember what it was like, I forget about all the reasons I can’t have it again. Even if it’s just for a short while, those moments are bliss.
My initial understanding of the term hiraeth makes me think of being homesick. A hiraeth seems like it would be the missing puzzle piece that some people talk about. A longing for something you have lost that cannot be replaced or a time you cannot go back to. This makes me think of the way a woman that lost her father at a young age would feel during a father daughter dance at a wedding. Thinking of an example of a hiraeth I could use from my life, while trying to avoid dishing out a sob story, is a bit difficult. Things that come to mind when I think of a home I cannot return to are the things I have lost. Most of us have those things in common. The things that you have lost, I believe, are the things that shape your desires and your behaviors. Do you ever remember simply having something? Imagine you’ve lost a bracelet you’ve had for years. Can you go back and remember every single day that you wore it and the things you did while wearing it? Probably not. Though you can’t remember every single moment you had the bracelet, I’m quite certain you remember the moment you realized you had lost it. It’s the lost things, lost people, and lost qualities that we remember the most. You’ll always remember the things you lost. I’m going to give you a list of things that you may or may not have gone through. Make a note of which events you recall and which events you do not.
-the first time you got an A on a test -the first time you had sex -the first time you helped your parent(s) clean up after dinner -the first time you went to an amusement park -the first time you fell in love -the first time you were truly heartbroken -the first time you did your own wash -the first time a loved one passed away -the first time you finished an essay on time -the first time you failed a class or had to attend summer school -the first time you relapsed or did something you said you would never do Think about which events you recalled. Though which events you recall are based off your values and what is important to you, I’m sure you remembered more of the events in which you lost something than the events in which you might have gained something. We remember losing things because usually when we lose something (innocence, sobriety, a loved one) it impacts us in a new way. It makes us feel something that we’ve never felt before. Loss, based on the severity, changes people. If most of the things you remembered are bolded, you remembered the events in which you lost something. Whether it be innocence, pride, or a loved one, that loss impacted you. That said, my area of focus on my hiraeth assignment will end up being something I have lost, a home that I cannot return to. That is my understanding of the term hiraeth. |
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