As my mother drove us far away from our home, my personalized view of the world shifted from insignificant to grand. Not only have I lived in a small place my whole life, but I have lived with a small amount of people. This is not a terrible thing. Neither is it lacking in any splendor or deliciousness. After all, the savoury in life is found only in the heart and mind. And that is where you create it.
The mountains stretched in width and height, growing with the ever unchanging gray skies that surreptitiously stole many people's joys. My best friend has told me that someday I'll look back and this will only be a small part of my life. And every day that I think about it, the more it seems true. Although, my homeland is a place where I was created, essentially. I was shaped on the entire being of this place and the foundations my family has set for me. And now, I am growing up. Only heaven knows this day would come so swiftly. It was just the other hour I skipped around on the pavement barefoot, drawing pictures of flowers on the chalk. Now, I have jobs. And I'm furthering my education beyond the hellish hallways of high school. The past four years of my life have been a dream. A dream in which I will forever treasure, but be thankful they are past. I have been given so many opportunities to grow and become a better individual.
Four years ago, I would have never placed myself in this spot, with these feelings, and who I am today. Of course, I am not disappointed with myself. But in some respects, I feel as if I am. Someday, I'd like to think to myself that I am a person whom I admire. That if I were not myself, i would like to be friends with me.
I feel as if right now the real adventure begins. High school was a short lived experience and is already beginning to become simply a memory. Long lost. Now is the time where all my soul searching comes into play. I know who I am, and so now is when I must apply all that I know to be true to my life. Now is the time where I am truly independent. In actions.
To some, this may induce a sense of...freedom. And escapadity. But, it almost makes me feel a bit alone. To know that my mama won't be there when I come home and that I won't go to church with my family anymore.
So, as we drove away from the blithering acres of memories and lost hopes and forgotten dreams, I pondered upon what I've been doing the past year of my life. Although the days seem to blister by sorely, time has become a new spectrum for me. Days seem like experiences and events, rather than timekeepers. But, I still keep track of the days since major changes in my life occurred. This is rather torture. I believe that the past is the past. My sister often reminds me that I needn't worry about what happened. Worrying doesn't fix anything. Sometimes, I just can't get it off my mind.
All I know is that the sounds I hear, the scents I smell, the sights I view, and all that I feel is real. It's around me right now: the translucent white curtains draped across my windows, the paper lanterns hanging from my ceiling, the smell of home, and the serenity that comes from being here. This is all temporary. Home is where my family is. But the medals hanging on my walls and the photos of my trip to Boston and to Costa Rica remind me of who I have been. I am not who I was yesterday. I am not who I was a week, a month, three months, a year, a decade, eighteen years ago.
Without this change, I would simply be the newborn babe, swaddled in my mother's arms for eternity. This I would love, but without the opportunity for growth I could not experience all that is reveled in life: traveling, taking pictures, making memories, laughing, smiling, crying, and learning.
Of course, I've made mistakes. Sometimes, even knowingly. I am making an effort to better myself as a person: to become happier. I will always treasure these wonderful years at home: from the time I called 911 for fun, to the hours and days I spent in a chlorinated swimming pool, to the sights I saw at Laura Ingall's home, to the moments I've admired my baby nephews and niece, to the time I placed my little five year old hand in the cement pavement, to stay there forever.
Recognition of consequences has largely affected how I act. I remember feeling weighed down with guilt when I lied about something as a child. I also remember feeling this way when I lied to myself. I will always remember the tender way my parents look at me. I will never, ever forget the highly disappointed face of my mother walking into my second grade classroom after she had learned I told a secret to the whole class. I will never forget the proud looks and the shamed faces I've seen from my coaches. I sadly remember the moment I rested my head on my old coach and cried. I remember holding back tears in my goggles through many sets. I remember falling on the floor giggling and my oldest sister tickling me until I can't breathe. I remember beaming with confidence as I received awards and high placements in competitions for art and academics. I will never forget the smiles of those I have loved. It's like they are ingrained and entrenched into my brain, carved into stone. Impossible to forget. I suppose, this could be a case of "I don't ever want to let you go." To lose the memory of you is forbidden.
I don't take things lightly, in most respects. I value the respect you have for me, the respect I have for you, the respect you have for yourself, and the respect I have for myself.
One feeling I wouldn't ever mind not experiencing again is a brick of a heart. Not that my heart has been hardened, but instead of rising up like a balloon towards the blue sky, a balloon of wet cement dragging down to the "dark and dreary world" as my mother puts it. In this experience are ingredients of dislike, shame, embarrassment, loneliness, and sadness. Seeing a loved one hate you has got to be one of the worst things ever. Saying this, my mother is sure one heck of a strong woman, and my father is one stable man, as well. (Not that I hate them.)
What is encompassed in this hate is rejection. To reject or be rejected is terrible. To apply this in the eternities is even more terrible. And this is where I am assured because I know that God always, always, always loves me. Even if I'm acting stupid.
Thinking philosophically, which I like to do often, (or which I label as the eternal perspective) what comes after life? This question is so huge. I like to just think about it.
I've discovered that sometimes, we have to search high and low, and left and right for the simple joys in life. I have learned to laugh and smile more often. Without action taken upon opportunities to burn calories and feed myself endorphins and smile, I would probably be a very different person.
All I can tell you is that my name is Mallory. I love my family and friends, Jesus Christ, and Heavenly Father. I realize I may sound like a downcast, weird teenager. Because the truth is, sometimes I am. But I am progressing into a beautiful human bean. I am blossoming into what my Heavenly Father wants me to become - more Christlike. I am trying to be nicer, to think kinder thoughts, to help others more often, to forget about the mean actions others have committed towards me, to love my parents more, to not yell at my sisters, and to truly appreciate the scriptures. I like to learn new things and am grateful for the chances I am blessed with to show you who I am, and to listen to who you are.
Love,
Mallory
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