I met my first USA sunrise upon retuning from Peru on my undergraduate campus before a science department senior breakfast.
Although it is difficult to acknowledge, a whole month has rushed by since I returned from Latin America. I
was welcomed home by graduation weekend at EMU and my parents’ move into a new
home. The following two weeks, I enjoyed visiting the preschool where I worked for 2.5 years to share my experience with children and participating in several weddings as a flutist
and bridesmaid. I also embraced spending time with family in anticipation for my
move to work in a research lab at the dental school. The past two weeks, I have
been adapting to life in Richmond and volunteering in a microbiology lab. I was
happy to start a garden and will soon welcome a kitten into our home. The
transition from Latin America to home and now a new home has given me the
opportunity to transfer and unpack many articles of my past, such as books,
binders, old papers, cards, and letters. It is delightful to read my old papers
and see the little girl that I used to be shine through.
Eastern Mennonite University's lawn was prepared for graduation on the morning of my return.
As mentioned when I started my weblog, I hoped to find tulips blooming upon my return to EMU...unfortunately the usual crimson tulips were replaced with rose bushes, but I found this lonely tulip in the 'Peace Garden' behind the science building.
The sun rises above the Valley in Harrisonburg, VA.
I enjoyed the short reunion with classmates and professors at the science department senior breakfast.
Tough and fun classes have brought our small biology/chemistry department close together. Some students will be off to graduate and professional schools, some are working, and some are waiting for the next step.
Some wonderful, coffee-happy professors.
My mom and me in front of the lovely Suter Science Center (facing the library--also a great place).
Weddings: a memoir to celebrate five years
My best friend from my teenage years was married on May 19th. Five years ago on the same day, I had also been a bridesmaid for my sister. Being a 14 year-old at the time, my sister's distancing was a difficult experience for me. Sharing a narrative I wrote in the ninth grade recounting this experience, I would like to honor my sister and all the 'big sisters' (and brothers) in my life that have and still are lending their mentoring hand and heart. ...And thus I present the 'people paper' entitled "Losing a Protégée:"
My friend Alina and me at her surprise bridal shower.
And us on the big day.
*****
Hearing the returned honeymooners giggling behind me, I slid down into the beige leather seat of the black Camry that sped down I-81. No longer having endurance to hold back the radioactive feelings fusing together in me, I felt a heavy tear erupt down my tensely strained face, leading the way for many to follow. "How could she? We had so much left to do. What do I do with all the accumulated characteristic snapshots that I have strived to emulate? Who will tread the way for me in choosing and following new paths? What will replace watching her ambition that has driven me? How will I climb out of my pits of confusion alone?" This steaming pot was me a week after my sister's wedding, being hit with the realization of her marriage's consequences and their effect on my life. Picking the couple up at Dulles Airport with my brother-in-law's sister, I experienced anxiety and bitterness about greeting the newlyweds. After getting to the car, I was drowned with the tsunami belief that declared every good feeling, moment and lesson that I had shared with my sister concluded and unrepeatable.
I sank yet deeper into the seat as the memories took form. I was two years younger and eager to get on the road. My older sister was taking me to see Shenandoah University, a school she was interested in. The trip would take two hours and we would tour the school for the day. Throughout a usual week, she could have been found in one of three places: her room, high school, or the community college. None of these places had any morsel of time for her naive, immature, annoying little sister. But a fresh breeze blew across the Valley this morning. Dressed in my beige corduroy matching jeans and jacket, with my favorite tee underneath, I knelt to tie my new white Nikes as the departure was eminent. Such attire was necessary for the rare occasion: my sister was spending time with me...a whole day, at that! In the car, we took a quick picture on her cell phone before taking off. Looking at the picture, one could see two similarly shaped faces, carefreely anticipating a fun day. One of the girls seemed comfortable with herself, yet awaiting something new and promising. The other, a mirror image of the first, smiled nervously, her less-than-perfect bangs hanging into her dancing blue eyes. As we pulled out of our house's driveway, I took a moment to study my sister, savoring the moment. Concentrating on backing out onto the busy street, she did not notice my scrutiny. Turning this way and that, to check the traffic, her styled chestnut shoulder-length hair twisted and swayed in response to her movements. Switching gears, from reverse to drive, she conveniently turned on the nearby CD player with her swift, manicured fingers. Moving to the start of "So Happy Together," she began to softly mouth the words along with the song, feeling its excitement. Two hours flew by and we turned into the university parking lot. As we stepped out of the car, we felt the chilly breeze that flew across the duck-filled pond to sweep the drive-accumulated warmth off our stiff bodies. The day held lots of potential for memory-making and adventure. After outrunning a rampage of attacking geese and taking pictures on many of bridges and docks, we toured the university campus and even had lunch in their cafeteria. All throughout the process, I could not believe that such a fun and beautiful place could be the setting in which one could obtain an education. After returning home after that excursion, I realized that I had brought back more than a cold and algae-stained pants: my sister had opened up a new world of possibilities for me. Days and years after the trip, I have dreamt about the vast possibilities for my future.
Throughout my flashback, I did not notice the flooding stream on my face become a sticky, faint trace. Before I could realize and grieve my tragedy anew, more memories fluttered in. I could once again hear the discussion my parents led with my sister. "Are you sure you want to do this? It will take up a lot of your time and stress you out," my parents were referring to her decision to begin taking courses at the community college at age fifteen, while still in high school. The lanky figure, resting her elongated face in her arms that were propped on the table, nodded in agreement to an action she believed was something she truly wanted to do. A snapshot of a shivering girl under a tree-dimmed, streetlamp-lit sidewalk flashed in my mind. The overwhelming books became visible when we approached her with our headlights. I accompanied my parents many times when they drove her to her night classes. I remembered her worrying about those that mocked her for her nonconformist decisions and actions. Seeing her hardships made me want to decide whether I wanted to be so emotionally swayed by others' opinions or adamantly pursue what is outside of the mundane. With this new understanding, a fire of ambition and confidence, fueled by my sister's modeling, was built and began to burn. Her ambition and courage to be different drove me to be genuinely striving in all that I do, not being swayed by others' judgements.
Realizing that her college days were over and no more of its challenges would come her way made me remember that my observing her in this setting was also complete. Turning towards the window of the car to stare out into the dreary sky, I tried to think of something that would comfort me. What came to mind was a distant memory of one of the numerous times that I had a 'dead end' problem. In those events, I would wander around the house like a zombie, seeking comfort and a solution. Being regularly cumbered with schoolwork, my sister did not have less stress on her shoulders. One particular predicament that she found time to help me with involved choosing friends. Being a somewhat quiet child, I was not constantly going to friends' houses or parties. That spring, however, I was 'cordially invited,' as the invite read, to attend a birthday party. After attending the gathering, I did not react as I thought I would. The party was fun, no doubt, but I wondered if I wanted to be a part of that sort of rowdy society. You may think it absurd for an eleven year-old to so think, but it was a real crisis to me. Having a moment to examine my situation, my sister called for a trip to the ice-cream shop. There, she distracted me from my problem and described something from her life. Whether it was her daily schedule or an interesting detail from one of her classes, I listened with wide eyes, not wanting to miss a detail. Once her turn was over, I explained my problem, which now seemed only trivial. She listened with all seriousness, never laughing at my childish views. Both participating in the solution, we decided that there was no reason for me to form friendships with people that were not pleasant to be around. Being a great counselor in times of confusion, similar scenes occurred many times throughout the years and have been helpful and special to us both.
We pulled off the interstate into an Applebee's when I snapped out of my trance. "Hey Luba, we bought you a surprise in Haiti," my sister announced as she climbed out of the car.
"Really?" I tried to sound more happy than surprised as I quickly wiped the remaining dampness off my face. Receiving my gift, I became conscious of a new fact: yes, my sister was married and moved away, but I had so many memories to refer to when in doubt. The gifted wooden flute and maracas proved that our time together was not over, just that a new phase had begun, perhaps one that would be even better than the first.
*****
It is easy to forget (or leave un-noticed) all of the mentors, role-models, and encouragers that influence a person in certain ways that distinguish their path. I hope to stay intentionally conscious of the people and relationships that have brought me (and are still bringing me) to the blessed existence that I (will) lead.
The beginning of my Richmond garden--coffee grinds and corn shucks on card board. The lasagna garden has been covered with composted horse manure and it appears that plants are thriving.
