#and i look up at the sky and its a fucking rainbow colored balloon with a box that i KNOW has a sky egg

[spushii]

‘tis the season

#acnh #animal crossing #zipper t bunny #acnh bunny day #anneart #i drew this last year. he's back now #i really didn't think that i was going to hate bunny day this year like i did last year #but i open up my little animal crossing front door and the first thing i hear is whooooosh #and i look up at the sky and its a fucking rainbow colored balloon with a box that i KNOW has a sky egg #and i try to say hello to my beloved skye. and she's like Hey! Youve always been so good to me! take these five Water Eggs :) #and i just have to accept them from her. i dont need these. i got all the recipes last year.

[stretchjournalemerson]

When Moments Turn to Memories

By Maddie Browning

art by Molly Mitchell

“You will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” - Dr. Seuss

This seemingly simple quote sat on a bulletin board outside of my high school theatre classroom for months. I would pass it quickly, glance over at it, and go about my day, not thinking about how horribly true it was. I knew things ended, but I didn’t understand that people did too.

I struggle with beginnings because I can only ever think of their eventual end, when everything I love about them will soon be a distant memory. When I was 12, my parents took my brother and I to Hawaii. It was absolutely breathtaking. We saw volcanoes and luscious greenery and crystal clear waters. We ziplined in an area where Jurassic Park was filmed and saw spinner dolphins leap into the air off the side of our boat when we went on a snorkeling trip. And as wonderful as it was, I couldn’t stop thinking about the time when I would eventually have to leave, when I would get one final glance at the glimmering waves, and then take off on a plane back to Colorado. It was like I needed the time to prepare myself for when the dreamy vacation life would be over before it had even begun. But I thought that maybe if I was prepared, leaving wouldn’t hurt as much. Maybe that was true. I still don’t know.

I never dealt with the death of a loved one until a little over a year ago. Before that, I had lost my great grandparents, but at the time, I was too young to comprehend the finality and pain of death. I thought that maybe, like my vacation thought process, if I had enough time to prepare for someone’s eventual death, I would be more okay. I’d be ready. But that was complete bullshit, and I didn’t get any time to prepare anyway.

I hear "Rainbow" by Kacey Musgraves, and suddenly I'm back in the car with my two best friends. We're dressed in all black. It's the middle of the afternoon, but it's as if the sky has been drained of all of its color. I’m sitting in the passenger seat, and I see life passing by in slow motion as I glance out at the gloomy clouds hovering above us. I’ve never seen a darker day. It is almost as if the world knows that something horrible happened and is in mourning with us. We drive in complete silence except for the soft playing of the song. I can feel the downbeat of the piano chords like they’re playing on my heart, pushing out all of the deep emotions I didn’t know I could feel. We make it to the church just as Kacey sings, “Everything will be alright now,” even though it couldn’t be farther from the truth. This used to be the place where we would all gather for choir concerts and sing and laugh. Now, it’s the place where we will witness the funeral of our 17 year old friend.

The first time that I met Parker was in my Theatre I class in high school. He stood apart from everyone else—wearing an orange puffer jacket, cargo shorts, and flip flops no matter the weather. His brown hair swept lightly across his forehead and his deep brown eyes held darker secrets than any of us could have ever known. He was kind and talkative and loved, but stood in the corner of the room as if he didn’t quite feel like he belonged. He was the kind of person who you wanted, needed to get to know, but you didn’t know how. My clearest memory from that class is watching a scene that he wrote and performed where a talking goat head was controlling his mind and driving him to insanity. He was strange, but in the best way.

I remember walking into the church and feeling numb. I saw people I knew everywhere, but everything felt wrong, and I couldn't even make it past the front door without crying. I couldn't understand how this was really happening. Directly inside, there were photo displays of Parker from when he was a baby until now and items he treasured like his infamous Scooby Doo shirt. I felt nauseous and almost as if I was floating outside of my own body. And as I floated above it all, I saw static. People were moving around in all different directions, and all I could see was a deep black aura emitting from the crowd. There was a sense of emptiness and darkness. Everyone blended together in a large mass of pain and suffering, a gathering of people who loved each other, sharing in immense grief. I didn’t know how to handle it all. I was shaking uncontrollably as I moved toward my seat in the chapel.

One of my favorite memories of Parker was during Beauty and the Beast, our last musical before COVID shut down in-person schooling. I played Mrs. Potts, but could not do a British accent to save my life. Parker had a knack for accents, so he told me he would help me in whatever way I needed. He tried coaxing me to say different phrases and mimic his intonation and went on rants in character about his life as the person he had created with specific accents. There was one day that I had an especially horrible British accent, and I was feeling really defeated. I told him it was almost more fake Australian than British to which he said, “That’s ok. Australians are just British people but on fire.” He made me laugh and smile when I felt awful about myself. I’ll never forget that moment.

When the funeral started, they played a slideshow of Parker from when he was a baby until his senior photos. It was the first time I had ever seen this adorable little boy. His family enjoyed going on tropical vacations together yearly and compiled photos of him from each one. He seemed to be holding exotic animals in almost every photo. There were different types of lizards and birds and monkeys perched on his shoulder. I remember just how captivating his smile was. At that moment I couldn’t think of any smiles in the world that shone brighter than his. He looked up at the camera like he was the luckiest boy in the world to be where he was. He was so playful and happy, but now he was gone.

Parker was really, really funny. He used to post daily snapchat stories about the most random things. My best friend, Kalyssa, and I looked forward to watching them everyday and laughing while he discussed the concept of frogs and how airplanes are just flying metal dildos. “Bro what even the fuck are airplanes?” was our favorite quote. None of what he said made sense, but without us even realizing, it was one of the best parts of our day.

Parker’s family wrote moving speeches that they delivered throughout the funeral, but his dad’s speech still haunts me today. He said that whenever they went on vacation, Parker was always captivated by the waves. He would go down to the edge of the sand and play in the water as the tide moved in and out. He couldn’t swim, ironically enough, but he still loved being right at the edge of the water. His dad said that he would watch Parker play for hours, content with seeing him so happy. He said that those same waves that his son used to play in now washed over him with grief and pain. The thing that his son loved most in this world, now tore him apart. I think about that a lot, and I wish that I could have known that little boy, so enthralled by the crashing of the ocean's waves.

During the first semester of our senior year, Kalyssa and I choreographed and starred in the musical, Heathers, with our theatre production ensemble class. We only had about two and a half weeks to pull the show together, so Kalyssa and I had to divide and conquer between learning our own parts and teaching choreography. I worked with Parker on the song, “Dead Gay Son,” and he was a comically awful dancer. He performed every step that I taught him, no matter how many times I demonstrated it, almost like a suburban dad trying to embarrass his kids. My favorite part of rehearsal was watching him dance. He tried so hard to get all of the steps, and I loved seeing him working so passionately. He never gave up and always had a smile on his face. I would give anything just to see him dance one more time.

My high school actually held an in-person graduation in a huge field more than six feet apart in July. They had a chair set out for Parker with balloons tied to it, and when they called his name, they released them into the air. I remember shedding a tear as I looked around at all of his friends that shared in my grief, but it was like a small part of our pain flew into the air with those balloons. It was a beautiful moment knowing that he would never be forgotten as long as we were still here to remember him.

It’s been a little over a year since he died. It still feels weird, like a part of me is missing. I still have bad days where I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning and random triggers that send me into a dark void once again. But yesterday something happened that gave me a little bit of peace and hope. My roommate, Molly, is very spiritual. She does tarot card readings and lights candles for her deities, and however unbelievable as it sounds, she sees ghosts. I didn’t believe it myself at first, but after all of the weird encounters in our room, I know she’s not just seeing things. She can’t always see the full features of any ghosts, but she can feel their energies and when certain ghosts are connected to the people they stand next to. Yesterday, she told me that she had been noticing an energy that never left my side since last semester. Even when we left our room and traveled out into the city, it was always there. She sensed that this energy was a young male presence, who had some deeper connection to me. She is sure it’s him. It’s Parker. I know it sounds crazy and impossible, but I believe her. In all of my grief, I didn’t realize that he never truly left. And even though I can’t see him, I now know that he has and always will be with me.

Acknowledgements

This memoir was inspired by my friend, Parker Priesser. He was such a kind and beautiful person who made my days brighter and never failed to make me laugh. He was funny and smart and good at accents and had so much potential to do great things. His death caused me great pain and sorrow, and this memoir was one of my outlets of expressing that. It gave me a way to feel him again without spiraling back into a pit of grief. He was truly the most genuine person I have ever met.

I miss you, Parker, and I will always love you.

#stretch2021 #memoir

[m0onbean]

Dreamin’ Chapter 3

category: fluff, angst

pairing: choi youngjae (got7) X reader

summary: a cold hearted youngjae needs some love in his life

note: i’m stretching chapters out looooong and finally getting back up on my feet to start writing!!!

“(Y/N).”

You jolted awake from your slumber and your eyelids slowly lifted up. After your vision focused for a couple seconds, a low ceiling appeared in front of your face and you soon realized that you had fallen asleep in a car. A nice car, must you add.

“(Y/N), wake up.” the same voice repeated your name in an impatient manner. When your eyes flickered over to the location of the sound, you were met with a Youngjae who was holding open the car door nearest to your head from outside. One hand was shoved in his navy suit’s pocket and the other was leaning against the widened door which was leaking in cool air and the smell of musty rain. His hair was lazily tossed to one side and his suit was wrinkled up.

Slowly, you sat up straight and rubbed your eyes sleepily. Youngjae watched you and sighed to himself. “You can leave now.”

When you looked out the door behind his figure you saw that he had parked in front of a street sign that read “Olive St.” However, he was parked in front of another house which you did not recognize.

“That’s not my house.”

“We’re at your street though.”

“But that’s not my house.” you repeated.

Youngjae groaned and ruffled his hair in exasperation, “Look, I don’t give a flying fuck. I’m dropping you off at your street, so go walk home from here.”

“But this street is really long and I don’t even recognize this house! How am I supposed to get home if I don’t know where I am?” you protested in disbelief.

“Google Maps,” Youngjae simply replied.

“I don’t have a phone.”

“God, you’re such a nuisance. Don’t you think you’re asking for a little too much?” Youngjae asked in a condescending tone. “Just be grateful I didn’t kick you out of the car while we were still in the middle of nowhere.”

Before you could retaliate, Youngjae gripped you by your wrist and dragged you out of your seat and straight outside onto the sidewalk blanketed with scattered puddles. You stumbled back clumsily as your shoes dug into the mini flood which damped your sneakers.

By the time you balanced yourself and was about to vocally express your hatred towards Youngjae, you were cut off by the sound of the driver seat slamming shut and an engine revving off into the foggy night with a trail of thick smoke pushing behind it.

At the lack of Youngjae’s presence, you were now struck with the realization that you were lost in the dark streets with rain sprinkling you for what seemed like the hundredth time today. The houses to your left and right didn’t look familiar at all and to add a cherry on top, you were freezing. Your arms instinctively wrapped around your body as you trudged along the sidewalk, not knowing where to go.

As you ventured around, you actually found enjoyment in strolling in the biting air with nobody else accompanying you. It gave you time to think, which was something you did quite often. You thought about how you have a job now and how you can finally support yourself after years of struggling to maintain even a duty as a simple convenience store worker.

A smile crept on your lips when you started to imagine how you could sabotage Youngjae’s room as his family’s new servant. Maybe you could place a lizard on his probably million dollar worthed pillow, or offer him pink packaged Starbursts that were actually yellow. You shuddered at the latter. That was maybe a little too cruel.

A screeching meow abruptly interrupted your evil thoughts. It startled you, causing you let out a small yelp. When you gazed down to your feet, you were met with piercing green orbs staring into your face. The cat stopped meowing but was now rubbing itself against your legs while  purring sweetly. It had darkly shaded fur which you couldn’t identify the color of since it blended in with the sky.

“Good cat,” you praised but didn’t dare to touch it. “Now please get off me?”

As if to taunt you, the cat only continued to used your legs to scratch its back. You were about to lift your foot to shoo it away until its big furry bottom landed on both your shoes, anchoring you down with its heavy weight.

“What- fuck -why are you so heavy??” you groaned but decided to not kick the cat off your feet out of manners for nature. Maybe it had a long day and needs a rest just like how you did.

So you kneeled down cautiously and reached your hand out to stroke the cat’s furry body. It purred in response which boosted your confidence.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry about that!” a voice called out from behind you which made you swivel your head around to the sound. A man was frantically approaching you in a rush, the rain attacking him on all sides. He was wearing gray sweatpants that sagged a little and a thin white shirt that hugged his body nicely. Two tiny moles were placed over his eyelid which immediately struck you with shock.

“J-Jaebum?” you sputtered while staring at him in utter disbelief. At first he stopped in his tracks, clearly surprised that a random girl in his yard had recognized him. But when his eyes adapted to the darkness, his expression mirrored yours.

“(Y/N)?”

“Jaebum, what are you doing here?!” you asked while quirking your eyebrow. “You told me you lived downtown.”

“I was just staying over for a party...” he mumbled while avoiding eye contact. Jaebum was one of your fellow classmates in highschool that you shared a couple of classes with. He was quiet and composed all of the time which highkey scared you. If somebody bumped into him in the hallways he would just shrug. It seemed like nothing irritated him.

It was until you were put in a group project with him did you realize the man was a freak. A wild freak that loves cats to be specific. Aside from being a chill person to be around, he had a good sense of humor. You were fond of his snarky comments and sarcastic language. Overtime, he became a good friend of yours.

“And you brought your cat to a party?” you narrowed your eyes at the furry loaf whose body was on the brink of sleeping on your now ruined sneakers.

“Who doesn’t love cats?” he asked in a duh tone while reaching his arms out to swipe the cat away from your feet. The minute its plump body lifted its weight off of you, you felt the blood circulation in your feet sighing in relief.

“Dude, what do you feed your cat? It literally looks like a balloon.” you distastefully remarked while massaging your feet.

“She.” Jaebum instantly corrected. “And I feed Snowflake very well mind you.”

You snorted and crossed your arms, “Snowflake? Your cat is literally the opposite of a snowflake. She’s not lightweight or white colored at all.”

“Jeez, why are you so sassy tonight?” He accused while stroking Snowflake’s soft head tenderly. Snowflake was cuddled up into his arms, her head resting on his bicep.

“Long story short, rich douchebag dropped me off here and now I don’t know how to get home.” you sighed and reached your hand over to pet Snowflake as well to relieve some stress.

“You sound stressed. Wanna party with us?”

The moment he mentioned the party, you suddenly noticed the muffled music blasting from the house of the yard you were standing in. Lights were flashing from the exposed window into the sky and you heard deep voices chanting “CHUG CHUG CHUG.”

You scrunched your nose up distastefully, “I’ll pass.”

“C’mon, I can tell you had a rough day. Learn how to relax!” Jaebum insisted with eagerness prominent in his voice. “It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out since summer started.”

“That’s true, but I prefer catching up in a different location... not in your house filled with sweaty guys who haven’t been laid in a month. Besides, I thought parties aren’t your thing?”

“See that’s what I thought, but if you go to a party with the right people, you’ll become drunk on social energy. You don’t even need a single shot to have a good time, I promise.” Jaebum effectively convinced with a puppy-like grin. Was Jaebum, a cat nerd, actually finding parties to be relaxing and enjoyable?

“I just want to go home,” you sighed while rubbing your forehead. “Can you let me borrow your phone for directions? We can hangout next time.”

Jaebum’s face fell at your rejection, “Awww (Y/N)... I can tell you’re frustrated. I promise if you join the party you’ll have a great time. And if you don’t I’ll uh... I’ll buy you clothes or whatever you like.”

You scoffed, “I’m amazed at your persistence. Look I-“

“I’ll take you to an expensive restaurant.”

Your eye twitched. “An... expensive restaurant?”

“Yes! Of your choice of course! ANY restaurant!” Jaebum emphasized “any” in his sentence.

You took a glimpse of the the house which was now shooting rainbow beams out of its windows. “Let’s just get over with this.”

To your surprise, Jaebum was correct. You had a good time, no, you had an AMAZING one. You had suspiciously expected the party to be flooded with drunk and reckless people but there were unexpectedly a large amount of sober ones instead. And the social energy had rubbed off on you just as he had said. Before you knew it, you had met at least ten new people, laughed so hard your ribs ached, watched a horror movie with the whole house crowded in the living room, vented about your day with your new friends listening intently, and sprinted around the neighborhood in the pouring rain while splashing every puddle in sight.

By the time the party had been called over, you were feeling energized as ever. You wanted so badly for it to never end, but unfortunately all good things come to a halt at some point.

Now that most of the guests had bid you farewell and drove off in Ubers back home, only you and Jaebum were left in the now seemingly vacant house. “Woo!” you cheered and flopped onto his couch that was probably littered with potato chips. “I had the time of my life!”

Jaebum chuckled from the kitchen and returned with a glass of water in his hand. He offered it to you which you gratefully accepted and chugged the whole thing down your throat. “I’m telling you, I host the best parties here. No alcohol allowed, and everything turns better.”

You hummed in agreement. “I’ll forgive you for lying about living here since the party was super lit.”

He tensed up, “Oh. Right. Sorry about that. I told you I lived downtown because I didn’t want any of my classmates visiting.”

“And why’s that?” you inquired while giving Snowflake who was nestled in your chest a belly rub.

“If you hadn’t noticed, everybody in our school are jerks who leech off of other people. Had I leaked my address, a thousand of people would have showed up at my door, asking to stay over since their parents kicked them out,” he sourly stated while shaking his head. It was true. Everybody who went to your school were all assholes who were selfish and clearly only cared about popularity.

“Yeah. There’s a handful of jerks living here...” A picture of Youngjae flashed in your mind. All of the anger pent up in you was released like water being freed from a faucet during the party. Now, all was left was a bitter taste swirling on your tongue. “Ugh, I really hate that rich brat.”

Jaebum’s head perked up, “Oh, the guy you’ve been ranting about throughout the whole party?”

You hated to admit it, but you HAD been talking about him all this time. How dare he leave you off on some random street without even an umbrella to shield yourself?

“I have an idea.” Jaebum interrupted your thoughts. “How about we get revenge?”

A small mischievous spark tickled your brain. Revenge sounded delicious. You feigned aloofness by continuing to stroke Snowflake’s belly softly. “I’m listening...” you hummed.

Jaebum proceeded with an evil smile on his lips. “Well I was thinking... you wouldn’t want to go overboard and get yourself fired, correct?” he continued after you nodded your head in agreement, “Instead you should try to irritate him in the smallest ways so he can’t accuse you of such tiny shenanigans easily. For example... you could annoy him by talking to him and asking him a lot of questions, ‘accidentally’ mix up his laundry, you know...”

A small, malicious smirk crept on your face as you considered all of the things you could do to irk Youngjae in the smallest ways. Let’s call this Operation Annoy Youngjae.

Chapter 2

#got7 #got7 scenarios #kpop #got7 fanfiction #got7 fanfics #choi youngjae #youngjae fluff #youngjae angst #got7 imagines #jb #mark #jinyoung #jackson #yugyeom #bambam

[neverending2012]

My Journey To You Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

SUMMARY: They have Rachel's memorial. Finn, Matt, and Lucy go on a trip. Sam and Mercedes deal with her past. Abby experiences her first crush and is growing up. The town comes together during an unexpected threat.

WARNING: Sexual situations. Cursing. Violence. Mention of prayer, God, and religion. Discussion of death and grief and dark themes.

RATING: Mature

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy this extremely long chapter!

WHERE THE SOUL NEVER DIES

When death comes nobody knows what to expect or how to react, at least that's how Finn felt. He knew it would hurt but could never envision the pain seared into his flesh, and the blackness choking him, or his heart turned to nothing. In those stupid tearjerker movies, death was pretty, the life monitor flat lined and the deceased had rosy cheeks and bright eyes, sleeping beauties in a hospital bed. A few well-placed tears and the credits rolled. Real life was different. Rachel was thin, pale, and gaunt. Her head was bald and her lips chapped; he felt her die in his arms, and it was far from romantic or cinematic; it was dreadful. Matt and Lucy clung to her body, because that's what she was; a body, it wasn't Rachel, only her shell, so they squeezed all they could from her shell and he couldn't pry them away.

"Matt, Lucy, you have to let go."

They held on and he felt their agony.

"She's not there."

They shook in his arms, and their grip loosened, until he gently pulled them off of her body, and hugged them.

"I'm here."

"Daddy, why…" Lucy said, Daddy…"

The last time she called him Daddy she was 4 years old and had skinned knees and a sunburned nose; she retreated back to the time when she was innocent and monsters lived beneath her canopy bed.

He gave her the truth.

"I don't know."

Finn wasn't sure when they entered the room, but Sam, Mercedes, and Abby, stood next to the bed, arms wrapped around each other and crying. Stacey called 911 and an ambulance arrived a few minutes later. The EMTs rushed up the stairs. Finn took the kids out of the room. He didn't recall much after that. Arms hugged him, tears fell on his skin, Matt and Lucy by his side; they slept in the guest room, in their clothes, bound close together. Matt vomited on the floor. Finn carried him to the bathroom where he continued to vomit in the toilet. Aunt Josephine cleaned up the floor and said a prayer for them as tears poured down her cheeks. They woke up the next morning, with red-rimmed eyes and sorrow in their hearts. While Matt suffered from nausea, Lucy had diarrhea. They reverted to infants with their constant cries and help to the toilet. He made each of them take a shower but they wouldn't let him leave the bathroom, so he stayed and waited for them as they bathed behind the frosted shower door. Mercedes showed up at their door with stacks of fresh clothes and linen, and a tray with glasses of ginger ale, dry toast, and tomato soup. Finn thanked her and she hugged him.

That was only the first day. Worse days were to come.

ooo

Rachel was cremated. She didn't want a funeral. The Hummels and the Berries gathered at Sam and Mercedes' house for a celebration of her life as Rachel requested, wearing bright colors – black wasn't allowed.

"Not even black shoes," Rachel said in the instructions left for Finn.

Sam baked her favorite strawberry cake. Mercedes, Aunt Josephine and Abby blew up a bunch of balloons with two rented helium tanks, and inside each balloon was a small note describing what the families loved about Rachel. Everyone contributed their thoughts and Mercedes and Sam transcribed them to paper. Then the notes were rolled up into small thin scrolls, tied with a strip of red ribbon and placed inside the balloon. Each scroll only had a few powerful words, but more words weren't needed.

Rachel is loyal and brave.

Rachel forgives.

The past tense didn't exist in those balloons; for brief moments she lived. He got the idea for the notes because Rachel loved hidden treasures; even as a child, she loved finding shiny coins behind furniture, or pretty rocks on the beach that never caught your eye at first but then looking at them closely, a beautiful world opened up. For all of her rigidity and obsessiveness with healthy food, planning and life, underneath was whimsical, beautiful soul. When they finished the balloons, a rainbow of floating colors bobbed about the living room.

Stacey occupied Rosy and Jake with blowing bubbles and patty cake while everyone prepared for the celebration.

Amidst the flurry of activity, Finn escaped to the bedroom, stared out the window, and listened to the commotion outside his door. It was a sunny day, the cloudless sky was the bluest he had ever seen. Rachel said when she was a little girl she thought God turned the world upside down and froze the ocean to make the sky. And Finn saw the ocean in the sky and heard Rachel's voice.

"I was such a dumb kid."

"You weren't dumb. I think that's sweet."

Rachel looked up at him, the morning light shined in her eyes. They lay in bed. She kissed him.

"Thank you."

Matt and Lucy sat on either side of him. They held his hands.

"I don't want to celebrate." Lucy said.

"Me either," Matt said.

"It's what your mother wanted," Finn said and kissed the tops of their heads.

ooo

Stevie's wife Helen said to Finn:

"I hope Rachel's transition was peaceful."

Her waist length auburn hair shimmered in the afternoon sun like shiny red metal. They stood on the back porch as they drank rainbow sherbert punch, creamy white foam floated on top of the drinks. He knew she meant well and he always liked Helen but her remark unnerved him. He didn't say anything and sipped his punch; he avoided her sympathetic gaze and looked up at the trees. She touched his shoulder.

"Finn?"

He flinched at her touch, though he wasn't sure why, the way she touched him, well-meaning, sweet, only tortured him for some reason. The word transition made it seem like Rachel got a new job. But Rachel didn't move to a corner office; she went to the crematorium.

"Rachel didn't transition. She died."

Before Helen could say anything, he went back into the house.

ooo

The family gathered in the living room to talk about Rachel. Everything was in brilliant Technicolor from the multitude of festive balloons, to the outfits everyone wore: vibrant pink, red and purple dresses; bright blue, green and white shirts, khaki slacks and jeans… and not one speck of black. Music played in the background, something soft and oddly upbeat, a cheery piano tune. The nearby table had a three-tiered pastel pink frosted strawberry cake placed in the middle of it, surrounded by bouquets of multicolored roses wrapped in green paper. The table next to it had a spread laid out with rosemary lemon roast chicken, steamed mixed vegetables and bowls of jasmine rice; it was Rachel's favorite meal.

Finn tried to connect with his family, tried to listen, but his heart wasn't in it. When Sam asked him to say a few words, at first he refused, but then he saw Matt and Lucy gaze at him from the corner of the room and he changed his mind. They knew he wrote something for Rachel and wanted him to read it, and for their sake he did. Sam patted his back and Finn stood in front of the fireplace. He took a piece of paper out of the pocket of his jeans, cleared his throat and began to read:

"I wasn't always the best husband to Rachel. But I loved her. She was a wonderful wife and mother. She came from wealth and fancy schools, listened to Broadway and opera and only ate food I couldn't pronounce, and for reasons I'll never understand, she agreed to be my wife. Far from her comfortable life, she camped in Yellowstone Park and ate franks and beans over an open fire; she sang songs in my old pick-up truck with a rusted out floor, and her voice wrapped me in love; it filled me up, made me strong. It never occurred to her that she was above this life. "I chose you, didn't I?" she would say, whenever I questioned if she made the right choice. And again I was reminded how lucky I was. Even before cancer, Rachel lived like everyday was her last, and no matter what she felt, it came back to love every time. When Matt and Lucy were born, she became their protective warrior; fierce, loving, vulnerable and brave; she encouraged, scolded and challenged. She loved tradition but was never afraid to change. Our children are amazing because of her.

And now she's dead and I don't know what to do. Its horrible and fucked up and I know she wants me and the kids to move on and live our lives, but what she didn't realize is she was our life. If we wake up and get out of bed, then it's a good day. If we stop crying long enough to pray, it's a good day. And if we live with grief, pain and joy all at once, it's a beginning of a new life without Rachel and I'm not sure I want that.

Rachel never shied away from pain. She walked in it, breathed it, lived it and kept going because of her blessings, which were plentiful. They were little things like hearing the children sing or taking a walk at sunset or closing her eyes and feeling the breeze on her face on a summer afternoon. I see the world differently because of her; through her eyes there are ocean filled skies, meteor jewels, and liquid gold sunsets. I never saw any of those things before Rachel. I see her in Lucy's eyes every time she challenges me; I feel her in Matt's touch every time he comforts me and squeezes my hand.

Maybe one day, it won't hurt. Maybe one day I'll be grateful. Until then, I'll feel the agony, anger, pain and regret; I'll cry with our children and we'll live a new normal.

I love you Rachel.

I honor you.

I can't say good-bye to you. I don't know if I'll ever say good-bye.

I'll just end my words.

Because I have none left."

He folded the paper back up and put it in his pocket. Then he excused himself and went upstairs to the bathroom. He closed the door, sat on the edge of the tub, and sobbed.

ooo

After everyone ate, they gathered up the balloons and went to the backyard. On the count of three, they released them into the air, and they soared to the heavens above. Finn and Sam popped open bottles of champagne, and everyone drank glasses of bubbly spirits as they watched the balloons drift and fly away, dotting the sky with brilliant colors. Matt, Lucy, and Abby wrapped their arms around each other, and gazed up at the sky with tear-filled eyes. Finn hugged and kissed them.

Mercedes chatted with Helen and Blaine as they stood beside Speranza's sky-blue house. Her long, purple dress blew in the breeze. Every now and then, she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand while she sipped her drink. Hiram and Sean stood in the middle of the yard, tears flowed from their eyes as they watched the balloons. Then for a moment, they glanced at Finn, and he nodded at them. Aunt Josephine walked over to them, her big red derby hat with red roses, was cocked to the side and concealed part of her face. When Hiram and Sean saw her, they immediately drew her into a hug. Burt and Carol sat under the oak tree with Rosy and Jake, they held the twins on their laps, whispered in their ears. Jake waved at the sky.

"Bye," he said.

Finn wondered if whoever found the balloons would ask who Rachel was and why brief odes to her were hidden inside. These tiny messages celebrated Rachel and shared her with the world. Finn gazed at the balloons, shielded the sunshine with his hand; and he imagined a stupefied stranger finding one of the balloons in their yard; and as they took it down from a tree, it popped on a branch and the message flew out and they would pick it up, untie it, read it and smile, or wonder what the hell it was, you could never tell with people.

Kurt, Sam, Stacey, and Stevie were next to the fire pit. Sam looked at him and opened his arms, his green eyes shined with tears. Finn went to his siblings and they embraced him. They didn't tell him everything would be ok or give him empty condolences; they only held him as he cried.

Then Mercedes began to sing:

To Canaan's land I'm on my way

Where the soul never dies

My darkest night will turn to day

Where the soul never dies

No sad farewells

No tear dimmed eyes

Where all is love

And the soul never dies…

The song shined a tiny light on his spirit. Mercedes voice was beautifully sad and he knew the song was for him as much as it was for Rachel. Her voice carried across the yard, drifted heavenward:

Dear friends there'll be no sad farewells There'll be no tear-dimmed eyes Where all is peace and joy and love And the soul never dies

The rose is blooming there for me Where the soul never dies And I will spend eternity Where the soul never dies

ooo

Mercedes put the last of the food in the fridge and closed the door. Sam poured detergent into the dishwasher and turned it on. The house was quiet. She sat down to the table and stretched her arms. Sam brewed a pot of earl grey tea and fixed them each a cup. He sat down next to her and slid the mug in front of her. She smiled at him, leaned over, and kissed him. They drank their tea in silence. Sam held her hand.

"Schätzchen?"

"Yes?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted."

"Same here."

She thought of when Shane died. How people told her to stop grieving and move on and that he was in a better place. Mercedes called out their bullshit. Nobody could tell her how to feel. At least Finn expressed his anger, Mercedes was angry too when Shane was killed, but it took longer to bubble to the surface and be released. She wasn't there when he died, but poor Abby was, clinging to his body, just like how Matt and Lucy clung to Rachel's. It tore Mercedes apart. At least the afternoon celebration soothed her.

"The ceremony was nice."

"Yes, it was… you know it's funny how things happen."

"What do you mean?"

"We weren't crazy about Rachel when we first met her. She had this wall up, an air about her."

"What changed your mind?"

"The way she loved Finn. Then she opened up bit by bit and let us in too, and we loved her."

"Walls are safe."

"Yeah."

"I wasn't very popular," Rachel said as she and Mercedes sat on the couch watching Beaches, "So I was a bitch instead, giving people a reason to hate me. I threw myself into music. I was lonely."

"You hurt them before they hurt you."

"Yes, but I stopped. I created my world instead of trying to be a part of theirs. I built walls. I was happier like that… until Finn."

Sam squeezed her hand.

"Baby?"

"Sorry, I zoned out."

"Ok, just checking."

She sipped her tea.

"What happens now?"

"I don't know. I suppose we'll support them as much as we can. Santana is on call 24-7."

They finished their tea, went upstairs, checked on Abby and the twins, changed into their pajamas, brushed their teeth and crawled into bed. Sam held her as they fell asleep, but Mercedes didn't sleep for long. She woke up an hour later, got out of bed, and went to the closet where she got Rachel's letter out of her wooden keepsake box. She went downstairs to the den, turned on the lamp and sat down on the loveseat, opened it and read it.

Dear Mercedes,

I'm writing this at 2:00 in the morning in the bathroom. Finn is crying in the bedroom and he thinks I can't hear him but I do. Why do men think they can hide stuff? Especially husbands. But this letter isn't about Finn. It's about you. I love you. You opened your home to us; you became my sister. You're the only person in the world that smoked weed with me. I still can't believe we did that when everyone was out of the house and we just sat on the back porch and shared a blunt. You never told me how you got it. I knew Finn would freak out, because of my oxygen tank, but I wanted to be reckless. It was worth it. Then we ate ice cream sandwiches and I told you when I was in college I kissed my vocal coach, an older woman with honey blonde hair. And the only thing you wanted to know is if she was a good kisser.

Nothing I said ever fazed you. I told you about my fears and failures. How Finn's affair broke my heart. How Aba and Pop sometimes smothered me. I revealed all of my secrets, things that not even Finn knew, but with you, I shared a sacred sister space, and I could tell you my story just as you told me yours. You're extraordinary and if you ever feel that you fall short of anything, never forget this: You're enough. You're beautiful. You're wonderful. No husband, child or anyone defines you. Abby has one hell of a mother. I applaud how you raised her. She's precious, smart, intuitive, kind, and a beacon of light. Matt and Lucy adore her. She's their sister for life. And if it's ok with you, I'd like to be her second mother in spirit. And Sam is the luckiest man in the world to have you; he's truly blessed.

Mercedes, I hate death. I go from acceptance to rage to sadness in a matter of minutes. But I feel better knowing that you and Sam and Abby are a part of my family's lives.

Thank you for being the sister I wished for.

So, here's to late night talks.

Crying in the kitchen about love and life.

Laughing at pornos at 2 A.M. (I can't believe we did that either, White Chocolate and Black Thunder, lol.)

Singing duets on the back porch. I swear we should've cut an album together. Even though my voice was gone, you sang with me anyway. You understood. I couldn't hit any notes or even remember all the words, but in my mind we soared together and it was magical. And just like Aba and Pop, you became my voice. I dreamed while I was awake. Thank you.

When I said God wasn't listening, and anger filled me, you held my hand, and prayed with me.

I see us in Abby and Lucy by the way they understand each other. I'm grateful that Matt is now a part of their bond too.

Thank you again to you and Sam for being their Godparents. I have nothing left to say except my life was a good one, even with the heartache, loneliness, and uncertainty; the good stuff outweighed the bad.

Love,

Rachel

Mercedes' tears fell onto the letter, smudging the delicate blue ink. She cried a long time until exhaustion set in and she curled up on the loveseat, and fell asleep, holding the letter to her chest.

SO LONG, FAREWELL

Three weeks later…

Finn sat on the back porch drinking beer. A yellow citronella candle burned on the porch rail, it's grassy, lemon-like fragrance filled the air, effectively keeping the mosquitoes away. The moon shined bright in the sky and he recalled Grandpa Hummel's words on his wedding day: "Never chase the stars when you have the moon."

Of course he didn't listen at the time, but much later realized his grandfather was right: Rachel was the moon. Tears fell from his eyes. He finished his beer and opened another. Earlier that night he tucked Matt and Lucy into bed, knowing that inevitably, they would end up in his bed as the night progressed, and he would awaken to find them snuggled up beside him, seeking comfort in being together as they suffered the pain of their mother's death.

Speranza emerged from her house. Her black eyes blinked. She made a funny sound, walked over to the porch, climbed the stairs and stood next to his feet. She looked up at Finn and made another faint call.

"What?" Finn said.

She sat beside him. Finn patted her head and sighed. Speranza cawed. The door opened and Mercedes came out; she wore a long blue cotton nightgown and her hair was in damp curls.

"Hey."

"Hi."

She sat in the chair beside him.

"Nice night."

"Yeah."

"Speranza must think so too," Mercedes said, pointing at the bird, who stared at her with inquisitive eyes.

"Yeah, she does," Finn said and for a moment he smiled, "Strange, isn't she?"

"I think she's nosy."

Finn nodded and drank his beer.

"That too."

They sat in contemplative silence then Mercedes held his hand and said:

"After Shane's funeral, I went back to our house, and Abby went with Aunt Josephine. I remember curling up on the couch in the empty living room and being consumed with pain, just awful, ugly pain, and I'm crying and screaming, and then I can't even cry anymore and I'm just lying there with no tears left. Like my grandma said: my soul was spent. And I accepted it."

"What do you mean?"

"I accepted that this was my situation and it was in fact shitty, and I was going to cry, feel pain and live. I didn't know if it was going to get easier or worse but regardless, I had to live through it the best way I could. I let myself be vulnerable and accepted help when I needed it. I love you and the kids very much and I'm here for you… I know every one's grief is different but I can relate in the broader sense…"

Finn squeezed her hand and kissed it as a few tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said.

Finn looked at her.

"You know, I've never said this to anyone, but I hate going to sleep because I dream of her and when I wake up –"

"It's like she died again."

"You understand."

"I do. I had so many dreams of Shane it was ridiculous."

"Wow."

"Sometimes I would talk to him about things and he would listen and just as he was about to tell me how to solve my problems I would wake up."

"So you dream of him now?"

Mercedes smiled.

"Sometimes. I call them his "drop-in visits" but I haven't had a dream like that in a really long time. I think it's because my life has progressed and I've moved on. His spirit is with me, you know? And that's a good thing. But my life and heart belong to Sam."

"I get it."

"And don't think you have to move on because people tell you to. Feel whatever you're feeling. I can't stress that enough. This is your journey and nobody else's. Too many people tried to dictate my grief and it was maddening. You'll progress at your own pace. If you feel stuck I'm here to listen and therapy is good too. Santana helped me a lot."

Finn hugged her.

"I love you, Mercedes, thank you."

"I love you too."

They hugged a while longer and then gently pulled apart. The nighttime stillness surrounded them. Speranza squawked and pecked Finn's foot. The candle glowed in the darkness and together they watched it burn.

ooo

One week later…

"We're going on a road trip," Finn said to Matt and Lucy early one morning as they sat in the kitchen eating bowls of cocoa puffs. Everyone else in the house was still asleep.

"Why?" Matt asked.

"We have to spread your mother's ashes in more than one place. She left instructions."

Lucy stirred the cereal around with her spoon.

"How long will we be gone?"

"I don't know. Hiram and Sean thought it would be good for us to travel around in an RV, so they got us one for the trip. And you don't have to worry about school; Hiram is arranging for you to go to an online school and since he used to teach, he can help you if needed."

"Can Abby come too?"

"Sweetie, I know you guys are close, and I love Abby as much as you do, but I want this trip to be just the three of us, and besides I don't think Sam and Mercedes would want her to go on a road trip at the beginning of the school year.

Lucy continued stirring the cocoa puffs around in her bowl.

"Ok," she whispered.

Finn held her hand.

"This will be good for us."

"If you say so."

"Where are we going first?" Matt said.

"Montana."

"We could just fly, that's faster."

"Your mother wants you to see the road."

"But I get car sick."

"Since when?"

Matt shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know.

"She wanted this for us. We have to respect her wishes."

"This trip won't bring her back."

"Nobody said it would."

"I don't want to go."

"Matt – "

"I want to stay here."

"I'm not leaving you here. You're coming with us and that's final."

"Dad I – "

"Look, this isn't easy for any of us. But we should honor your mother in the way that she wanted."

"I thought we already did with the ceremony."

"This is different."

"How?"

"It's hard to explain."

They ate in silence. Finn didn't want to discuss everything Rachel said in the letter. After they finished eating, they put the cereal bowls in the dishwasher and went Costco. It was his turn to do grocery shopping, and since there were so many people living under one roof, it was easier to buy stuff in bulk. Once they were inside the store, Finn was relieved that it wasn't crowded. Matt and Lucy ambled along beside him; and they retrieved the items from the shelves as he read them aloud from the list Mercedes gave him. Finn could tell by the stuff on the list that she was making their favorite meal: smoked meatloaf stuffed with mozzarella. Lately, Mercedes made a lot of their favorite foods, he knew that was her way of being kind, but he didn't want her to feel obligated either. As Finn pushed the cart toward the bakery department, Matt said:

"What kind of bread are we getting?"

Finn checked the list.

"Wheat. Three loaves."

While Matt got the bread, Lucy said:

"We should get a cake."

"Well… ok, pick one out," Finn said.

Lucy chose a yellow sheet cake with chocolate frosting and pink roses. After they paid for their groceries and left the store, Finn took the scenic route home, using back roads, he liked driving passed the fertile farmland with cows grazing in the pasture. Matt fell asleep. Lucy texted Abby on her phone. He thought about turning on the radio but decided that silence was better. When they got home, they helped him unload the car and put away the groceries. Afterwards, Matt and Lucy went upstairs, and Finn brewed a cup of coffee, and went into the living room where he found Sam lounging on the couch with his laptop; he had bedhead and needed to shave. Sam looked up from his computer.

"Hey."

Finn sat beside him.

"What are you up to?"

"Monthly bills. Where'd you go?"

"Costco."

"Oh yeah, I forgot it was your turn. So have you told the kids about the trip?"

"Yeah."

"How did it go?"

"About as good as I thought it would."

"They didn't want to go?"

"No."

"I know how they feel."

"You don't want us to go either."

Sam closed his laptop and sat it on the coffee table.

"When you told me, I was like, yeah, ok, this is what he needs to do, but after I thought about it. I just think maybe you should hold off."

"Why?"

"With everything that's happened I think you should regroup and relax. Continue your sessions with Santana."

"The sessions won't stop. We can Skype. I need this time alone with the kids. I think you're afraid for me to go."

"How'd you know?"

"You still get that little boy fear in your eyes when you're scared. It's like you're 6 years old again and you didn't want me to dive into the water."

"You remember that?"

"How could I forget? You stood by the pool, holding onto that ratty teddy bear and your eyes got misty, you didn't cry, you just stood there watching and then I said – "

Sam finished his sentence.

"Then you said, I'll be alright, Sammy. I can do this. Don't be scared."

"And I was fine, wasn't I?"

"We aren't kids any more."

"I get that. But I can handle this."

"I didn't want you to die," Sam said, "That's why I was scared."

"I promise to call or text everyday. And I'll make sure Matt and Lucy have contact with Abby too."

"The separation will be hard for them."

"I know."

"This isn't forever, Sam, we just have to do this."

"I understand."

Finn hugged him.

"You've been a great brother to me; I could never get through this without you."

Sam held Finn tight.

"Be careful."

"I will."

ooo

Abby, Lucy, and Matt were in Abby's bedroom watching TV. They cuddled on her bed and watched a 80s slasher flick about killer clowns, laughing at the blood and gore. A birthday cake scented candled burned on the windowsill

"Mom, would be so mad right now," Lucy said.

"I don't want you desensitized to violence," Matt said, laughing and imitating Rachel's voice.

"What else would she say?" Lucy said.

"I'm not raising violent children."

Abby and Lucy laughed and hugged Matt, until he pulled away and a moment later, he began to cry.

"It hurts," he said.

"I know," Abby said, remembering how she felt when her father died.

She and Lucy embraced him.

"Sometimes I feel like running away." Matt said.

"You can't run from it." Abby said.

"Is that how you felt when you couldn't talk?"

"Sort of. But I wanted to change everything and realized I couldn't."

"Oh."

"I don't want to go on that trip," Lucy said.

"It might not be so bad," Abby said.

Matt laid his head on Abby's shoulder.

"I still haven't read Mom's letter."

Abby didn't know what to say, so she said nothing.

They finished watching the movie, the three of them holding hands, as tears slipped down their cheeks.

ooo

Later that day the entire family had dinner in the back yard. Finn enjoyed the delicious smoked meatloaf stuffed with mozzarella; the hickory chips used in the wood-pellet grill gave the dish a distinct cured flavor. Aunt Josephine said it beat her meatloaf by a mile. They ate at the picnic table with Speranza wandering about nearby. They had the Costco cake for desert and Rosy and Jake tried to grab the pink frosting roses off of the cake. Though the meal was rather somber, with Lucy and Matt sitting on either side of him, he was grateful for being with his family. When they held hands to pray before the meal, he squeezed their hands, and they leaned against him. After dinner, everyone sat around the table talking, and watched the sunset. Finn thought of Rachel, and how she loved sunsets, the golden light in her hair. Before he could stop himself, tears fell from his eyes, and Lucy picked up a napkin and gently wiped his cheeks, while Matt hugged him.

ooo

Finn, Matt and Lucy left early on a Saturday morning. The air was cool as the sun began to rise in the horizon. Speranza pecked at their feet and squawked as they patted her head. Everyone gathered in the yard while they loaded up their RV. Hiram and Sean, Stacey, Aunt Josephine, Sam, Mercedes, Jake, Rosy and Abby all gave them heartfelt hugs and good-byes. Abby, Matt and Lucy held each other a long time before pulling apart, promising each other they would talk everyday. Mercedes packed them goodies for the trip: chocolate chip cookies, gingerbread men, and sandwiches. She knew that would hold them for a while, especially if Finn didn't feel like stopping. Finally, Finn announced that they really had to go and he and the kids got in the RV and drove away with everyone waving as they drifted further away into the distance.

THE FIVE OF US

Aunt Josephine took a plane back to Ohio the next day and Stacey went home too. Hiram and Sean went to London.

And the house was empty.

Mercedes couldn't believe that now it was only her, Sam and the kids. She loved it. Though she would miss the others, she wanted this time alone with her family. They needed it. They barely had any time together as a family and then Rachel got sick and it all snowballed from there, and while she was thankful they could help and she did not regret opening their home, she wanted this peace of waking up with only her husband and children in the house. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon. She and Sam cuddled on the sofa, sipping tea, his arm wrapped around her. Abby played with Jake and Rosy on the floor; they built a tower out of colorful plastic blocks. Mercedes laid her head on Sam's shoulder.

"This is nice."

"It is."

"How's your back?"

"A little sore, but I'm ok," He said and kissed the top of her head, "I love how you worry about me."

"It's my job."

"I thought it was my job to worry about you."

"It's both of our jobs then."

"Fair enough," he said, kissing her cheek. "You smell like cookie dough."

Mercedes laughed.

"I made a batch of sugar cookie dough to bake later on."

"What's the occasion?"

"No reason. I thought it would be fun for us to bake cookies."

"Can we use the pink sugar crystals?" Abby asked as she picked up a purple block and placed it on the tower.

"Sure, and we'll use the other sprinkles we have too and color the frosting."

"What do you want for dinner?" Sam asked.

"Pizza," Mercedes said, "We can order it from Ledo's."

"Ok."

Mercedes closed her eyes and yawned, the sound of the rain, made her sleepy.

Sam kissed her forehead.

"My Sleeping Beauty."

"So now, I'm a blonde fairytale princess?"

"No, you're my sexy, curvy princess with beautiful black hair."

"I thought I was your queen."

"That too. Hell, you're the whole damn kingdom."

Mercedes chuckled and kissed him.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

The kids grew bored with playing on the floor and joined their parents on the couch. The twins climbed onto their laps, and Abby snuggled up beside Sam.

"Papa, sing my lullaby."

Sam began to sing:

"Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow Bless you with love for the road that you go

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet And may you need never to banish misfortune May you find kindness in all that you meet…"

Mercedes was surprised that Abby asked him to sing it. It had been a long time since he's sung it to her, after she began speaking again and continued her therapy with Santana, she no longer suffered from her sleep disorder. Rosy and Jake smiled at their father as he sang and then began to yawn, when he started the final verse, their eyelids drooped and they closed their eyes. When he was finished, the twins were asleep, and so was Abby.

"I think I'm gonna doze a bit too," Sam whispered.

"How can you sleep with – "

"I can manage." He said as he stroked Rosy's curly head. Her chubby arms were wrapped around his waist and her head rested against his chest, "You know, all my life, I've wanted this, so no matter how hard it gets, it always comes back to our family, how much I love you and the kids, For a long time I never thought any of this would happen."

Mercedes caressed Jake's fat cheeks as he shifted a little and grabbed a handful of her shirt, squeezing the fabric, while he slept, his head on her ample bosom.

"We've been through a lot," she said, "I'm glad it's just us now."

"Me too."

Mercedes kissed him and laid her head on his shoulder. Soon she was asleep too.

ooo

When they woke from their nap, they went into the kitchen and baked cookies. The cookies looked like a unicorn dreamland with sugar sparkles and sprinkles and rainbow colored dough. Rosy and Jake liked pressing the round cookie-cutter into the flattened dough, and sprinkling the cookies with sugar. Though, more sugar landed on the floor, it was fun for Mercedes to do something as a family.

While the cookies baked, Mercedes, Sam, and Abby sat around the table talking while Rosy and Jake played with their toy trucks, racing them up and down the kitchen floor.

"I have something to ask you," Abby said.

"What is it?" Mercedes said as she sipped her tea.

"You know Travis? A kid in my class?"

"Who?"

"I know him," Sam said.

"He asked me to go to the movies next weekend."

"No," Mercedes said, without hesitation.

"Why not?"

"You're too young."

"I'm almost eleven."

"So?"

"Cedes, may I speak with you alone?" Sam said, rising from his chair.

"Alright."

"You two are going to talk about me, aren't you?" Abby said.

"Watch your brother and sister," Mercedes said and followed Sam out of the kitchen. They went upstairs to their bedroom and closed the door. Mercedes sat on the bed and Sam sat down beside, holding her hand.

"I think we should let her go."

"She's too young."

"It's only the movies."

"I don't want her mind getting filled with boys and God knows what else."

"She already knows about sex."

"I don't mean that. I mean the emotions that come with crushing on someone and dating and… I don't know. Just everything. She'll get enough of that in high school."

"Well, she does have a crush on him," Sam said.

"How do you know?"

"She told me."

Mercedes looked down at the floor. Something about Sam knowing Abby had a crush and she didn't know about it bothered her.

"Cedes?"

"Let me think about it."

"Something else is bothering you."

"When did Abby tell you about her crush?"

"About a month ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I didn't think it was that important. A lot of stuff was going on with Rachel and Finn."

"You didn't think our daughter's first crush was important?"

"I didn't mean – "

"Why didn't Abby tell me? She used to tell me everything."

"Is that why you're angry?"

"I'm not angry… ok, I'm a little angry. Our house was so full. Did I forget about her?"

"No, and I don't think she feels that way either."

"So much has changed. I never want her to think that she can't come to me."

"I think you're overreacting. You've never neglected Abby."

"So you think we should let her go?"

"Why don't we make it a group thing, if a few other kids go, then it won't be like a date, if you want to call it that."

"I want to meet him first and his parents too."

"Why does this bother you so much?"

"It just does. I hate how kids grow up so fast."

"Baby, it's only a movie."

"I know… but… the group thing sounds better. Maybe her friend Melanie can go too. Did you ask a girl to the movies at that age?"

"No, but I went to my first school dance with my friends. And a few girls asked me to dance."

"You didn't ask them?"

He shook his head.

"Nope, I was afraid to, but if I had known you at that age, I would've asked you to dance."

"I highly doubt that."

"Why?"

"Sam, don't take this the wrong way but… even though I know you love me, I don't think we would've been friends had we grown up together."

"What makes you say that?"

"I know I'm beautiful. But when I was a kid, I was the invisible one. And don't think this is a pity party or anything because it isn't, but in a sea of girls who looked like Barbie dolls, I wasn't first choice or anyone's choice for that matter. That's just how life was, and besides, I had other things to worry about like bill collectors calling the house."

"I can't believe that after all we've been through, you would think so little of me."

"I don't think little of you at all. I love you and we fell in love with each other at the right time."

"So how are you so sure that I wouldn't have fell for you if I met you when we were kids?"

"Remember the story you told me about Callie; the girl you bullied in high school?"

Sam hung his head.

"Yeah."

"I was like Callie, except I didn't experience any wrath, I was forgotten."

"I won't deny that I was a dick in high school. But I don't see what that incident, has to do with anything."

"You were a popular jock and model. I was ignored."

Sam kissed her.

"You got it all wrong. You're beautiful. I think if I saw you at a dance, I would've marched right over to you, held out my hand and asked you to dance, and I would've twirled you around the gym under a cheesy disco ball."

"That's sweet, Sam."

"You don't sound convinced."

"It doesn't matter. We're adults now and we love each other and have a family."

"You really know how to kill a moment."

"I'm sorry."

"I made it up to Callie."

"I know. But before you changed, you conformed for survival."

"How come you never said this before?"

"It wasn't an issue and it still isn't. I mentioned it now because of what you said about liking me when we were kids. I wouldn't have been on your radar, but that's not a bad thing, I fell in love with you even more when you told me that story, because you were willing to share the shameful parts of yourself, and show me how you became the man you are now. I cherish that."

Sam was quiet for a moment, and he said:

"Conform or not, you would've caught my eye. I swear by that. You're acting like I wouldn't have found you attractive and that's not true."

Mercedes hugged him tight.

"Like I said, we met each other at the right time."

"I suppose so," Sam said, but his voice was sad.

She pulled back from him and stroked his cheek.

"I changed my mind. I believe you would've asked me to dance."

"You're only saying that to make me feel better," he said kissing her, "And I appreciate it. I also love you very much."

"I love you too."

"You were on Puck's radar."

"True, but Puck was never a golden boy."

"So I was a golden boy?"

"I didn't realize this would upset you so much."

"I just hate… I hate that you think this."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Suddenly they heard Abby calling out to them:

"Mommy, Papa, the timer went off!"

"Come on, let's get these cookies out of the oven," Mercedes said, pulling Sam with her as she stood up.

"We're continuing this conversation later."

"Oh, Sam."

"I'm serious. But back to what we came up here to discuss, I think the group thing should work, you're comfortable with that, right?"

"I am."

"Good."

ooo

"Look at me," Sam said as he thrust into Mercedes, who lay naked beneath him. He didn't want her to close her eyes for a second; he rolled his hips slowly to prolong the pleasure.

She opened her eyes, those big, pretty, doe eyes that he fell in love with the moment he saw her for the first time, and she smiled up at him. He leaned down and kissed her, touching her twisted hair, as her breasts bounced, and he saw the faint, light brown stretch marks on them that appeared after the twins were born. Another beautiful part of her to love, he touched them as he gazed down at her, and a few moments later, she came, and cried out, clinging to him, and he held her. His orgasm was just as intense, and he shook in her arms, until everything was still.

"Wow," she whispered.

Sam nodded and they kissed.

"Thirsty?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He let go of her, and leaned over and took two bottles of water out of the mini fridge next to his side of the bed. They bought the fridge for situations like this one, when neither of them wanted to go downstairs to the kitchen for cold water. He opened it for her and gave her the bottle.

"Thanks," she said as she took a sip. He kissed her again.

"You're beautiful."

"I'm a hot, sweaty mess."

"You're supposed to say thank you."

She took another sip of water.

"Thank you."

"That's better."

They lay in bed drinking their water, and kissing now and then, afterwards, Sam needed her again and Mercedes obliged, she faced the wall, and he entered her from behind, he wanted to see her generous rear end, wiggle and shake as he pumped in and out of her.

When they finished; they were exhausted and satiated. Sam held her as he fell asleep.

MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

Sam stood in the middle of his high school cafeteria under the bright fluorescent lights; he wore his red letterman jacket. The air smelled like mashed potatoes and that God-awful Tuna Surprise they served every Wednesday. Everyone around him chanted: "Beast, Beast…"

Fists raised in the air, the teenage chorus of jocks, geeks, nobodies, and somebodies, all came together for the sole purpose of crushing the spirit of one unfortunate girl: Callie Brewster.

They formed a circle around her empty table. She stared down at the dog food dumped on her plate, covering the tuna casserole; tears streamed down her cheeks. Her granny glasses slid down her nose; the long plaid dress she wore didn't fit in with what the other kids wore. It was anachronistic.

Sam couldn't remember why they did it or wanted to do it. Nothing felt real except the pain he felt as he watched her dissolve. His friend Ralph, all red-haired and freckled, nudged him in the side and winked as if they had accomplished something worth celebrating as opposed to just being the bullies that they were. Ralph had a huge pimple on his chin that looked ready to burst; Sam grew sick to his stomach.

His girlfriend Keira put her arm around his waist, her blue eyes sparkled as she kissed his cheek. Her hot pink mini dress showed off her tanned arms and legs and perky cleavage.

"You did it!"

"Beast, Beast, Beast!" The crowd screamed.

Callie looked up from the gross pile of dog food and ran out of the cafeteria. Sam pushed Keira away and followed her. He yelled her name but she ignored him and exited through the heavy red doors; he chased her down the hallway and followed her into the girls' bathroom. She stood by the row of white porcelain sinks and to his shock Mercedes was there with her arm around Callie.

"Leave her alone," she said.

"Mercedes what are you –"

"Who are you?"

"It's me, Sam, your husband."

She looked at him with no recognition in her eyes; then he realized that she was about 16 years old with her leopard print shirt and white hat.

"I don't know you."

"Mercedes I – "

"When you hurt her, you hurt me."

Before Sam could say anything else, she took Callie's hand, pushed passed him, knocking him against the sinks, and left the bathroom. When Sam opened the bathroom door, he was no longer in the school, but standing on a street in a bad neighborhood with houses that had bars on the windows, overgrown yards and litter everywhere. A little girl stood in the middle of the street, wearing a long, white night gown, her hair was in pigtails, and she clutched a teddy bear. Sam walked over to her, and as he got closer he saw the tears in her eyes. It was his Cedes, alone and scared. He didn't say anything, only opened his arms to hug her, but she pushed him away.

"Where's Aunt Josephine?"

"Mercedes, I'm here. I can help you."

"I don't like strangers. Where's Aunt Josephine?"

"Calm down, let me help you."

"She's always gone."

"I know."

"You can't help me. I don't know you."

She ran away from him and went into the house across the street, with peeled blue paint and a broken white fence. All her sadness consumed him. He followed her into the house and when he got inside, she wasn't a little girl anymore; she was around 13 years old and she sat on a brown leather couch near a window, gazing out into the yard next door. She wore denim shorts and a red t-shirt; her feet were bare; she didn't see him at all, her attention was on the house next door; Sam looked out the window and saw that the neighborhood had changed. It was actually nice with well-kept lawns and fairytale houses in warm, bright colors that reminded him of Candyland; it felt surreal, the lush green grass, sparkling blue sky, even the paved street glittered beneath the sun. Mercedes was fixated on the woman weeding her back yard while her toddler twin girls ran about. The woman sang as she worked, tanned and beautiful, her skin was rich and dark as a black opal; her girls were replicas of her.

"That's my mother," Mercedes said to no one. "When she goes inside, she'll bake cookies for me."

Sam said nothing and let her talk.

"That's my family."

Sam listened to her dream. "I've got twin sisters. I'll teach them everything."

Sam sat beside her as Mercedes narrated her fantasy life, while staring out the living room window.

"My father is an accountant. He crunches numbers all day. I have lots of friends and all the boys think I'm pretty."

"You are pretty."

Mercedes looked at him for the first time. Instead of fear or anger, she showed no emotion.

"Nobody thinks I'm pretty."

Sam touched her cheek.

"I do."

"Who are you?"

"A friend."

"I don't have friends."

"I'll be your friend."

"You're too old."

"I'm –"

"Can you give me a new family? I want a mother and father."

"No, I can't, I –"

"Nobody can do anything."

Sam reached for her hand, not knowing what to say. How could he give her the impossible? What did he have to offer?

The front door opened, and Sam heard Aunt Josephine call out:

"Mercy, where are you?"

Mercedes opened the window.

"Go."

Sam climbed out the window into the alley between the houses, and ran away, until he was at McKinley High School, he went inside, and the halls were crowded. He saw Mercedes navigating the halls, this time as a 16 year old again, she adjusted the straps on her backpack, kids bumped into her, not saying excuse me, others gave her terse hellos, she kept her head down and pushed through, and Sam realized what she meant: she was invisible. His heart broke. He wanted to hold her hand and save her, from what he wasn't sure. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, because she was, and that they would be together, and she wouldn't want for anything. He followed her to the stairwell, and stayed a good distance behind her as she descended the stairs and went outside. She sat on a bench beneath an oak tree; she took off her backpack, unzipped it and retrieved a red leather journal. She opened it and began to write. Sam was about to go to her when Puck came walking up the sidewalk, and called her name.

"Mercy!"

She looked up from her journal and smiled at him. He sat beside her and kissed her cheek.

"Beautiful," he said and kissed her again.

Sam was angry. He wanted to be the one who called her beautiful. Nobody else had permission. His irrational thoughts made him obsessive; he watched as they got up from the bench, holding hands, and he walked over to them.

"Excuse me," Sam said, staring at Mercedes.

Mercedes looked at him.

"Yes?"

Puck eyed Sam with suspicion.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Mercedes gazed up at Puck and he squeezed her hand, pulling her closer to him, protecting her. Sam tried to speak.

"I'm – "

"What's an old guy like you wearing a letterman jacket?" Puck said.

Sam saw them for the teenagers that they were: young, dumb and in love. What was he doing there? He looked at Mercedes:

"You'll be ok."

She stared at him as if she understood.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Sam."

Then somehow, he knew that she knew, not consciously, but on a subconscious level, they were tethered in their lives, and would be together in another time and place, yet for now, he relinquished all rights to being savior.

"Why wouldn't she be ok, she's with me," Puck said, "Get the fuck away from us."

Sam understood his anger. He wasn't supposed to be in that time and place. This was her journey, not his. He refrained from touching her, though he wanted to. He gazed at her for a long moment; and she stared back, just as intently.

"I would've asked you to dance," Sam said and walked away from them.

He continued walking through Lima and later he saw Mercedes standing on the Lima Baptist church steps in a white wedding dress, Shane is beside her and a photographer snapped their picture.

Then he saw her kneeling beside Shane's grave, with Abby beside her. She's crying and talking to the headstone.

"I miss you," she said.

He can't bear to look anymore and walked down the street until he's far away from the cemetery.

ooo

When Sam woke up from his dream, he was sobbing. Mercedes held him in the dark.

"It's ok," she whispered.

Sam held her tight against his chest, smelled her cocoa butter lotion on her skin. She didn't ask him what was wrong; she only stroked his back, and rocked him in her arms. When he was able to speak, he turned on the lamp to look into her eyes.

"There's not a moment in my life that I wouldn't have loved you if I had known you."

"Sam…"

"But I understand your journey. When you said that stuff about high school, I got upset because it took away my belief that if we met earlier, we would've been together. I always wished that I had met you sooner."

"Is that what you dreamed?"

Sam nodded, kissing her.

"I know I would've loved you, but I wasn't what you needed."

"That was some dream."

"It was. I wanted to be the one to save you from everything, even the stuff that happened before we met."

Mercedes hugged him and Sam was grateful that she didn't ask for more details. He wasn't sure if he could tell her without dissolving into tears again. Somehow having the dream made him love her even more. They held each other a long time before going back to sleep.

AND THEY CALL IT PUPPY LOVE

Much to Abby's consternation, Sam and Mercedes invited Travis and his parents over for dinner.

"Why did you invite them?" Abby asked Mercedes as she watched her mother stir the pot on the stove, "I thought you were ok with me going to the movies as long as it was a group."

"We're ok with it," Mercedes said, "But we always like to meet your friends' parents. We've met Melanie's and Jill's parents."

"This is different," Abby said, sitting down to the kitchen table.

"Because it's a boy?"

Abby shrugged.

"I guess."

"Boy or girl, we still meet the parents. You're not ashamed of us are you?"

"Of course not."

Mercedes sighed as she put the lid back on the pot. She wiped her hands with a dishtowel and turned to face her daughter.

"We do this because we love you."

"I know."

"Go upstairs and wash up; they'll be here soon."

"Where's Papa?"

"He's in the shower."

"Did he get his haircut?"

"Yes, why?"

"I just want him to look good."

"Your Papa always looks good regardless of his hair."

"Maybe we can cancel."

"We'll do no such thing. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Go upstairs and wash up like I asked."

"I'm going," Abby said, but she remained seated and stared at Mercedes.

"Are you going to keep that scarf on your head?" She asked.

"Yes, I plan to wear my head scarf," Mercedes said, "And I'm going to chew with my mouth open and fart a lot."

"Mommy, be serious."

"I am being serious. Now, go on and get ready."

After Abby left, Mercedes checked on the pot roast in the oven; saw that it was done, took it out, and placed it on the marble countertop. She was glad that Stacey agreed to babysit the twins for the evening; as much as she loved her babies, she wanted the dinner to be free of noise and distractions. She went upstairs to their bedroom and changed into her long, empire waist royal blue cotton dress, and fixed her hair into a French twist. Sam walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He saw Mercedes sitting at her vanity table and walked over to her, kissing her cheek.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you. Our daughter thinks we'll embarrass her."

"Is that right?"

"She asked if you got a haircut," Mercedes said as she applied her lipstick.

"I guess she liked Travis more than I thought."

"And that worries me. I want her to focus on friendship."

"I understand and we'll talk to her about it."

Mercedes stared at her reflection and touched up her blush.

"I hope dinner goes well."

Sam kissed her again, removed his towel, walked over to the dresser and took out a clean pair of underwear with a golden pancakes and syrup pattern on them. Mercedes felt aroused watching him, but knew the guests were coming soon, and fought against it. Sam caught her staring at him, as he pulled on his boxers. He smiled at her.

"Come here."

Mercedes rose from the vanity table and joined him by the bed.

"Lie down."

Mercedes did as he asked, lying back on the bed. Sam pushed up her dress and pulled down her blue silk panties. His fingers probed her wet heat, and Mercedes raised her hips in response. Sam took off his boxers and plunged inside of her, taking his time, stroking her slowly, watching her shiver beneath him. Mercedes wrapped her thick thighs around his narrow waist, coaxing him to go deeper, until she came and so did he. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she said:

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I needed it too."

He kissed her and rolled off of her, once he stood up, he took her hand and helped her off the bed. They went into the bathroom where he washed between her legs with a warm washcloth and put her panties back on, though reluctantly.

"Sam, I know what you're thinking, she said as he slid the panties up her smooth legs and squeezed her butt cheeks. "That's for another time and place."

"If you say so."

They kissed and she resisted his hardened length as she cleaned him. When she finished, she said:

"I'm going downstairs. Don't take too long getting dressed because I need your help in the kitchen."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, kissing her once more.

ooo

Travis and his parents arrived about half an hour later. They brought a cheesecake and a bottle of homemade sparkling cider, Travis's father, Ben Wilder boasted that his wife could make anything from scratch, and she even made Travis' clothes until he wanted store-bought ones. Travis looked embarrassed when Ben said this; he had curly light brown hair, blue eyes, and was only a little taller than Abby; his white T-shirt had Wilder Farms written across it with pictures of vegetables underneath.

He handed Mercedes a bouquet of pink tea roses, and said they were from their flower garden. His mother, Rosalie, had a loud laugh and crooked teeth; her tangerine orange peasant blouse and skirt went well with her long, wavy, auburn hair. Ben had a beard and messy curly blond hair; his white shirt was wrinkled and the jeans he wore had holes in the knees.

Once they settled in the dining room, and began to eat dinner, Mercedes enjoyed getting to know the Wilders. Abby and Travis said very little but the adults talked non-stop. Travis' family lived on a farm and owned an online business that sold used farm equipment.

"So Travis, how do you like Star Pride Academy?" Mercedes asked as she passed him the steaming bowl of mashed potatoes.

"I like it," Travis said.

"What class do you and Abby have together?" Sam asked.

"All of them."

"All except Physical Education," Abby said.

"Travis told us that Abby can fix anything," Rosalie said as she cut into her meat, "He said she fixed the cabinet door in the science lab."

"She's always liked fixing things, isn't that right Abby?" Mercedes said.

"I guess," Abby said, and avoided eye contact with her mother while she ate her meal.

That was all the kids said during dinner. Ben talked about their farm. They grew corn, soybeans, wheat, and a variety of vegetables. Rosalie and Mercedes discussed canning and Sam talked about his house-flipping business.

After dessert, Travis and Abby went outside to visit Speranza, and Mercedes asked Rosalie and Ben if they wanted any coffee as she and Sam cleared the table.

"Yes, I'd love some," Rosalie said, "And dinner was delicious."

"Thank you," Mercedes said.

"I'll take a cup of tea if you have it," Ben said.

"Sure thing," Sam said as he followed Mercedes into the kitchen.

"They're nice," Mercedes said once she and Sam were out of earshot in the kitchen.

"Yeah, I think so too."

"Abby was awfully quiet."

"Yeah, but that's to be expected. Travis was quiet too."

"Seems like a good kid."

"He does. Do you feel better about everything?"

"I do."

"It's innocent enough. They're only kids."

Mercedes looked out the kitchen window and watched Travis and Abby feed grapes to Speranza.

"But things are different nowadays and I want her to stay a kid as long as possible."

Sam filled the coffee pot with water.

"We can't stop her from growing up; that's going to happen regardless. We can only see her through it."

ooo

After they made the tea and coffee, they went into the dining room. Rosalie and Ben were talking quietly to each other and smiled when they saw Sam and Mercedes.

"We were just saying what a nice home you had; and how much we like Abby," Rosalie said, "We're glad she and Travis are friends."

"Thank you, and so are we," Mercedes said.

"You'll have to come to dinner at our house next time," Ben said, taking a sip of his tea, "Travis will hate us for it, but he'll survive."

Sam laughed.

"Abby wasn't pleased with us either."

"So why do you have a pet peacock?" Ben said.

"She just showed up one day and decided to stay."

"Interesting."

"We're having a get-together with a few old college friends about a month from now, would you two like to come? We're trying to expand our social circle, the farm takes up a lot of our time and we don't get out much," Rosalie said, "I think you'll like our friends too."

"Sure, we'd love to," Mercedes said.

After they chatted a while longer and had more cheesecake, it was getting late and the Wilders bid them all goodnight, with hugs and promises of getting together again soon. Once they were gone, Sam, Mercedes and Abby cleaned the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. Abby was quiet as she did her chores. When she was done, she asked if she could go to her room, but Mercedes said:

"We'd like to talk with you first."

Abby sighed and sat down to the kitchen table.

"Yes?"

"Sugarplum, we know you're growing up, and that's a good thing," Sam said.

Abby stared at the table, and then looked up at him.

"Is this about sex? Because you guys already told me."

"No, it isn't about sex."

"Ok."

Mercedes held her hand.

"There's nothing wrong with having crushes."

"Oh God," Abby said, her face turning red.

"Hear me out. Those feelings are fine," Mercedes said squeezing her hand, "We just want you to focus on friendship. That's all."

"May I be excused?"

"You're excused," Mercedes said, giving her a hug, "Lights out in thirty minutes."

"Good night," Abby said, and hugged them both before leaving the kitchen.

"That went well," Sam said, his tone sarcastic.

"Maybe we shouldn't have said anything."

"Maybe. But it's not like we don't want them to hang out together."

"True," Mercedes said and yawned, "We'll just see what happens and not say anything else."

Sam put his arm around her.

"Stacey should be here soon with the twins."

Mercedes looked at the clock on the wall next to the fridge.

"You're right she should. I hope they didn't drive her crazy."

"You know they did."

"Probably."

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Mercedes and Sam answered it and found Stacey standing on their doorstep with Rosy and Jake fast asleep in her arms. Rosy had a French fry in her hair and Jake's face was smudged with ketchup. Sam and Mercedes took their children, chuckling at their appearance. Stacey's blonde ponytail was askew and the front of her yellow sundress was stained with red punch. A tuft of pink cotton candy was stuck to her cheek.

"We had an adventure at Playland," she said, "They fell asleep on our way home."

"Thanks so much for babysitting," Mercedes said, "We really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it. I would come in but I'm beat, so I'll just say good night."

"Bye, sis, and thanks again," Sam said, and removed the cotton candy from her cheek and gave her a kiss.

After she left, they took the twins upstairs, undressed and bathed them, and tucked them away in their cribs. Finally, they made it to their bedroom and Sam shut the door behind them; he helped Mercedes take off her dress, and noticed her shoulders were stiff, so he had her sit on the bed and he massaged them, kissing her neck now and then, Mercedes eyes closed and she yawned, enjoying his hands kneading into her tight shoulder muscles. He unclasped her bra and squeezed her ample, stretch-marked breasts, pinching her plump, erect nipples, and Mercedes melted, a warmth spread through her belly and settled between her thighs, a pulsating desire.

Sam pushed her back on the bed and pulled on the waistband of her panties, taking them off, and removed his boxers. They lovingly explored each other's bodies; she glided her wanton hands over his tight, muscular buttocks, and had the urge to possess him. Feeling bold she pushed her husband onto his back, dangled her breasts over his face as he suckled them; he was hard and needed her; she guided him inside her, and began to ride him.

"Cedes…"

Mercedes wanted him to feel the abundant love she had for him, regardless of his savior delusions and awakening dreams, love, space and time brought them together. She rocked her broad hips, squeezing him within her. Then Sam came harder than he's ever had, crying out her name and moaning his release, filling her up with his seed. Mercedes pumped her hips a few more times and shook on top of him as he held her. Sam ran his hands up and down her back, whispering declarations of love, nuzzling her neck. They cuddled for a long time, kissing and holding one another, feeling the rhythm of their heartbeats.

GROWING PAINS

As the school year progressed, Abby went on quite a few group outings with her friends. She spent more time in her room with the door closed and took longer getting dressed on the weekends, carefully choosing her outfits. Gone were the days of overalls and ugly Santa sweaters. Now it was floral leggings, Sloane boots, and bangle bracelets. However, and to Mercedes' joy, the tool belt stayed, and she was still a little girl who loved bird watching and star gazing, having Sam comb her hair, and playing hide and seek with Rosy and Jake. For Abby's eleventh birthday, instead of a party, she asked Sam and Mercedes to take a group of her friends to the movies and then for pizza at Ledo's Pizzeria afterwards. Travis and Melanie were among the six guests.

When the waiter brought out the pink frosted birthday cake, Rosy and Jake, dressed in jeans and red Elmo sweaters, clapped and cheered the loudest: they loved Abby so much. The only downside to the beautiful day was the absence of Lucy and Matt. Abby talked to them everyday and she missed them. Lucy sent her a round, glittering gold laughing emoji purse for her birthday and Matt sent her a framed handmade poster that listed all the elements that made up the stars; the backdrop was covered with sparkling silver stars against a dark blue night sky. Finn didn't know when they would be back, but he liked being on the road and reconnecting with his kids, and to have this time to grieve together.

Melanie gave her a Tocca Meet the Girls perfume collection and Travis' gift was two green crystal quartz geode halves, and when she separated them, inside was a small antique gold key. Abby smiled at the key. Everyone else was perplexed.

"What's the key for?" Sam asked.

Abby looked at him, suddenly shy with all the attention.

"Oh, nothing."

Sam was confused as was everyone else, but then they began to eat cake and the mystery was forgotten. It didn't escape Mercedes' notice that Travis' ears turned pink when Abby spoke of the key. So her daughter had secrets. This bemused and worried her all at once. Rosy patted Mercedes' shoulder getting pink frosting on her mother's blouse.

"Ma."

"Yes, baby?"

"Eat," she said pointing to the untouched cake on Mercedes' plate.

Mercedes laughed and kissed Rosy's cheek.

"Ok, Miss Busybody, I'll eat."

"It's good cake," Sam said.

Mercedes took a bite and agreed with him.

"Yes, it is good."

After they finished the cake, they took more pictures and the owner, Frank Ledo, gave them a pizza to take home free of charge because it was Abby's birthday.

"Frank, are you sure?" Mercedes asked as he handed her the large pizza.

"Of course I'm sure. You're my best customers," he said, smiling at her with his perfect white teeth, flour was smudged on his olive toned cheeks.

"Thanks, man," Sam said.

"No problem, and my pleasure."

Abby gave Frank a hug thanking him for the pizza.

"You're welcome, Tesoro," he said.

As they drove home, it began to snow, and the kids fell asleep in the back seat. Mercedes loved how the town looked like a Thomas Kincaide painting in the blue twilight with the sparkling white snow covering the roofs of the quaint Victorian houses, with puffs of gray smoke rising from the red brick chimneys. After living there for almost two years, Star Pride felt like home.

SNOW DAY

The next morning, Sam was the first to wake up. He looked outside and saw a good eight inches of snow had fallen overnight; he also saw a large group of his neighbors standing in the street talking, holding papers in their hands. He went downstairs, grabbed his coat from the closet, and opened the front door, and what he saw taped to his door, made him livid. It was a flyer that said: "We Must Secure The Existence of Our Race And Future For White Children. Make America White Again." It listed the name of a white nationalist group and a link to their website. Sam ripped it off the door and marched into the street to join his neighbors.

"What the fuck is this shit doing on my door?" He said to them.

"Sam, that's what we'd like to know," his neighbor Charlie said, an older man with silver hair and bushy eyebrows, "We've never had anything like this happen before and I've lived here for over 20 years."

Mrs. Friedman, who lived down the street said: "It's disgusting. To wake up and find trash like this on your property."

Others nodded in agreement.

"I've called the police," Charlie said, "And they're looking into it."

Sam's next-door neighbor, Elias, an immigrant from Finland who was in his fifties said:

"How do we explain this to our children?" He was divorced with two daughters.

"My kids know the deal," Rick said, a widowed black man with two sons in college. "Nothing new under the sun."

"I'm angry as hell," Sam said, "What right do they have to poison our community. I won't stand for it."

"What if it's somebody in the community?" Charlie said, "We don't know the culprit. It could be one of our so-called good neighbors."

Then Sam's neighbor from across the street, named Lena said: "I'm not standing for it either. I was born and raised here and people generally get a long." She was a petite woman with bleached blonde hair. Her husband was in the Air Force.

"Would y'all like to come inside for coffee? I think it would be good for us to just talk about this," Sam said.

Everyone nodded and followed him inside. Sam was glad that Mercedes had gone to Costco the other day and gotten a full supply of coffee and hot chocolate. They went into the living room and Sam went upstairs to their bedroom and found Mercedes getting dressed.

"What's going on?" She said, "I hear all this commotion going on downstairs."

"It's an impromptu neighborhood meeting."

"About what?"

"This," he said, handing her the flyer.

Mercedes read the flyer and sat on the bed.

"I can't believe somebody thought this was ok to place this sick shit on our home."

Mercedes felt numb, and then anger boiled within her. How dare they reduce her family to something that shouldn't exist? How dare they deny her humanity? She thought of all the stories Aunt Josephine told her about marches, segregation, fighting for the right to merely exist. She thought of her beautiful children, born out of love, and wondered what foundation she needed to lay down to prevent this from happening again. This was her home. She was an American like everyone else.

I don't need your permission to exist.

Hot tears filled her eyes, and she ripped up the flyer until it was nothing but a pile of white confetti fluttering about the room.

Sam put his arms around her and held her close.

"I wish…" he began to say but could not finish his sentence, so he said, "I'm sorry."

Mercedes didn't ask him what he wished for or why he was sorry. She knew the answers. He wished he could slay this dragon and keep the pain and hurt from seeping into the walls of their home. He was sorry that he couldn't do it. For every dragon slayed, another was born. Mercedes cried in his arms, not a soft whimper, or silent tears, it was loud and painful and real.

She wasn't wonder woman.

She wasn't a warrior.

She wasn't a savior.

She wasn't a strong black woman.

None of the above.

She was hurt. She was wounded. She was a mother, wife, sister, teacher and friend. But above all, she was a human being who only wanted a prosperous life for herself and her family.

What did her skin have to do with it?

The irrational hatred of melanin amazed her.

"I have you," he whispered as she sobbed, holding her tight against his chest, "I love you."

Her tears flowed onto his flannel shirt, mixed with mucus and ugliness. She knew he didn't care, he would hold her forever if he had to. And that's what she needed. She cried until she couldn't anymore, and then she raised her head from his chest and saw Sam crying too. He kissed her.

"I'll carry this with you."

"I know."

"I'll always protect you and the kids."

"I never doubted even for a moment."

ooo

After everyone was served coffee, hot chocolate and sweet rolls, they discussed what should happen next.

"I thought this was a safe place," Mrs. Friedman said, sipping her hot chocolate, her blue eyes misty, "You hear about stuff like this but Star Pride was never like this."

"I know what you mean," Charlie said, biting into a sweet roll, "I came here because of the community."

"It could've been much worse," Mercedes said, "At least no one was hurt."

"No one was hurt yet," Rick said, "Who knows what will happen next? What if they recruit members? Things could get ugly."

"So what do we do now? I'm all for fighting back; I just need to know how." Lena said as she leaned forward in her chair, "My husband hates stuff like this too."

"We need for everyone to be involved," Sam said, "We should call the local paper so they know what's going on and run a story about it, making people aware."

"I know the editor for the Star Pride Chronicle," I'll give them a call," Elias said.

"I think a special church service is a good idea," Mercedes said, "And maybe a candlelight vigil."

"I'm not much of a church goer but I would be willing to go for this," Lena said.

"We could use a prayer now," Charlie said, "We need this stopped."

"I'm an atheist," Mrs. Friedman said, "however I would like to take part in any vigils or protests."

"Ok," Sam said, "We have a starting point. Why don't we meet back here next week to discuss our progress and next steps."

Everyone agreed to meet at Sam and Mercedes' house at the end of the week on Friday evening.

"And next time, we'll bring the sweet rolls," Rick said.

"Sounds good," Mercedes said.

Mrs. Friedman stood up and put on her coat.

"I must be going. Henry will be up soon."

"I'll walk you to the door," Sam said.

"Thank you."

As he opened the door for her, Mrs. Friedman said:

"Tell Abby happy belated birthday. Such a sweet girl."

"Thank you, I will. How did you know it was her birthday?"

"She told me last week during the bonfire festival. We chatted about birds. She likes that I know about them. Speranza is quite a peacock."

"She's temperamental. But we like her," Sam said, giving her a hug, "Thanks for coming and I'll see you Friday."

"Good-bye."

She carefully walked down the icy steps and continued her journey home. Sam closed the door and went back to the living room. Lena had her arm around Mercedes, who was wiping tears from her eyes.

"It's ok," she whispered, "We're all here for you."

Sam sat next to Mercedes on the couch.

"Schätzchen?"

"Just having a moment," she said.

Sam hugged her.

"We'll get through this."

"I know. But this is a tired fight."

"Lord knows she's right," Rick said, setting his coffee mug on the table, "Those sons of bitches."

The living room was silent. Then Sam said:

"Everyone hold hands."

They held hands and Sam began to pray:

"Heavenly Father, guide us through this darkness that fell on us today. Show us how love can move us forward. We ask that you watch over us and our community; our children, wives, husbands, friends, families, and keep us safe from harm and drive away the poison that's trying to destroy our town. In Jesus' name we pray, Amen."

"Amen," Everyone said.

After their neighbors left, the kids woke up and they ate breakfast. The mood was somber compared to the usual morning chatter and commotion and Abby asked her parents what was wrong.

Sam told her about the flyer and she listened quietly until he was finished.

"What do we do now?"

"We're having a meeting on Friday," Sam said.

Abby poured syrup on her pancakes.

"Will they hurt us?"

"Not while I'm around."

"I want to go to the meeting."

"That's only for adults."

"Why? Kids are in the community too."

Sam looked at Mercedes.

"What do you think?"

"She has a point.

"Ok, you can come."

"Can some of my friends come too?"

"If their parents are ok with it."

"You know Sam, maybe their parents would like to come as well," Mercedes said, patting his arm, "The bigger the alliance the better the fight."

"We better make a few more runs to Costco, this will be a full house," Sam said as he took a sip of his orange juice.

"Are we going back in time?" Abby said.

"What do you mean?" Sam said.

"In history we learned about civil rights and Martin Luther King. Are we still fighting for the same thing?"

"Yes, sugarplum. Things are better. Much better… but we're not there yet."

"Do you think we'll ever get there?"

"I don't know."

Mercedes lifted Rosy and Jake out of their high chairs and said:

"Well, I'm not going to let some racist bastards ruin a perfectly beautiful Sunday. Let's go outside and make a snowman."

Sam was surprised at the suggestion. He wasn't sure if it was wise to be out in the yard after what happened but then again, they couldn't stay in the house forever. He kissed Mercedes.

"Let's go make a snowman."

ooo

Once everyone was bundled up in their coats, hats, and scarves and the twins had on their bright red and blue snowsuits; they ventured outside into cold winter afternoon and built a snowman together. Elias with his daughters, Ansa and Leena, aged 8 and 6, dressed in fuchsia and pink parkas came outside to join them, and soon it appeared the entire neighborhood decided to salvage the day and play in the snow; building forts and snowmen, having snowball fights and enjoying each other's company. Despite the ugliness of the morning, they came together as a community. Mercedes took pictures of the activities; and felt her faith rising within her.

"You know what this is like Mommy?" Abby said as she twisted a carrot into the center of the snowman's face.

"What?"

"It's like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, after the Whos woke up on Christmas morning and all their toys and food were gone and they still sang because they were happy."

"So we're in Whoville?"

"I guess we are."

The snowman wasn't exactly perfect but Mercedes felt his uneven center and lopsided grin gave him a certain charm. Jake and Rosy tried to hug him.

"Too big," Jake said.

They found an old Orioles cap and put it on his head. They couldn't find another scarf so they wrapped a purple feather boa around his neck; it was a leftover prop from Mercedes' Diana Ross costume. Sam named him Victor.

"Why Victor?" Mercedes asked, pulling him down for a kiss.

"Why not?"

Mercedes took more pictures as Leena, Ansa, Elias, Abby and Sam built a fort with Rosy and Jake toddling about and laughing in the snow.

When they were finished, Ansa tugged on Elias's arm and said:

"Isä, what shall we call it?"

Elias stood there for a moment. His cheeks red from the cold, a thatch of his blond hair peeked out from under his blue knit cap, biting his lip, he said:

"Toivoa."

"What's that mean?" Sam asked.

"It means hope."

THE NEXT DAY

On Monday morning, it was a different story. According to the morning news, slogans spouting white supremacist ideologies were found spray painted on the elementary and high schools, and community college. Hate messages were painted on the sidewalk in front of the supermarket, and an arson attempt was made on the local temple but the fire was put out before much damage could be done.

Sam and Mercedes took Jake and Rosy to the pediatrician for their yearly check-up, and as they left the doctor's office, much to their shock and anger, a white nationalist demonstration was taking place. A group of men with close cut hair stood in the town square, handing out pamphlets and asking passerby if they'd had enough of their country being ruined.

As a precaution, before they left the house that morning, Sam took his gun out of the safe and put on his leather gun holster and placed the gun inside. He wasn't taking any chances with everything going on; and these groups were usually violent. Mercedes watched him and said nothing. Now as they walked to their car after the appointment, the group leader screamed about white purity, and he spotted Sam and Mercedes with Jake and Rosy.

"Race traitor!"

Sam handed Rosy to Mercedes, opened the door to the pharmacy on their left and pushed her and the kids inside for safety. He turned around and faced the leader a few feet away, who stood on a stack of milk crates, clutching a megaphone, and he moved his hand in such a way that the leader could see he had a gun, the leader's eyes widened in surprise and he looked fearful. It was the response Sam desired; he wanted that piece of shit to feel fear, the same fear he was trying to put into this otherwise united community. Sam's anger boiled within him as he stared at the son of a bitch; it wasn't a warning or threat, he would shoot the motherfucker if he even thought about hurting his wife and children. Sam nodded, patted the gun. His eyes never strayed from the leader's washed out, pale face and red-rimmed eyes.

A moment later the cops showed up, because apparently this racist group had not obtained a permit to have a demonstration in the town square. The cops demanded that they cease the spectacle immediately. Sam watched the police interrogate them, a few of them got mouthy, and they were handcuffed. After everything died down, he went inside the pharmacy where Mercedes, Rosy, and Jake sat at an old-fashioned lunch counter. Jake and Rosy were eating pudding cups, oblivious to the potential danger outside, and Mercedes had tears in her eyes when she saw him.

He hugged her.

"We can go now."

The rainbow haired cashier looked at them and said.

"I hope they lock those cretins up."

"Take us home," Mercedes whispered as Sam held her.

They picked up the kids and went to the car, quickly buckling them into their car seats and drove straight home. Once they were inside the house, the twins were cranky, so they gave them lunch and put them down for their nap. While they slept, he and Mercedes held each other for a long time not saying anything, until Mercedes said:

"This must stop."

Sam understood and held on tighter. He knew things could've been worse and was grateful they weren't. This was only Monday.

ooo

During the week, Mercedes noticed Sam stayed home more often and when he was gone he called her every hour to check in. He installed security cameras that Cooper sent after he heard about what happened. He and LaTonya enjoyed married life and her pregnancy - especially watching the expansion of her belly everyday. The only problem they faced was the deteriorating health of LaTonya's father; and sometimes LaTonya called Mercedes for "girl talk" and a shoulder to cry on about his condition. Mercedes often prayed with her on the phone and encouraged her as much as she could.

The neighbors stopped by more often, and Mercedes wondered if Sam asked them to, but she didn't mind the company; and if he did put them up to it, she appreciated how much he loved her and their kids. On Thursday afternoon Sam came home for lunch rather subdued and silent. As they ate leftover tuna casserole in the kitchen, while the twins were upstairs for their afternoon nap, Mercedes tried to talk to him about his day, but his answers were short. Finally, she said:

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"I was debating on telling you this, but – "

"Tell me what?"

He sighed.

"You know the historic Underground Railroad house, I'm restoring?"

"Yes."

"I found a noose hanging on the doorknob."

Mercedes dropped her fork and grabbed his hand.

"Sam I – "

"I shouldn't have told you," Sam said, squeezing her hand, "I don't want to upset you more."

"I'm glad you told me. Have you called the police?"

"Yes and I filed a report."

"They probably targeted the house because of the article about it in the paper," Mercedes said.

He pulled her close to him, hugging her.

"Probably."

"I don't know what to say."

"Come here," Sam said, patting his lap.

She got up and sat on his lap and his strong arms encircled her thick waist; she laid her head on his shoulder and he stroked her kinky hair.

"I'm worried about you."

"I can't believe any of this stuff is happening, but I'm doing ok. My sessions with Santana help."

He kissed her cheek.

"You can always come to me. I love you and I won't let you suffer alone."

"Says the man who wasn't going to tell me about the noose."

"I didn't want to burden you."

"I decide what's a burden," she said.

"Point taken. I'm also worried about Abby. The twins are too young to know what's going on."

"She'll open up when she's ready. And thankfully, no signs of her sleep disorder have come back."

"I know, but I'm worried anyway," he was quiet for a moment as his fingers dug into her springy coils, massaging her scalp, "You know when I found that noose, I was so fucking angry, just like I was when that asshole yelled at us and I found the flyer on our door."

Mercedes felt a slight tremor in his body, as the anger rose within him again.

"But no matter what," Sam said, "That house will stand."

ooo

The Friday night meeting had a huge turnout. Mercedes figured that half of Star Pride was packed into their living and dining rooms. She was glad that she and Sam had the foresight to put the twins to bed early. Word got out about the meeting so other concerned neighbors came too. People brought food, and the meeting became a potluck dinner. Mrs. Friedman cooked huge pot of goulash, thick and rich with chunks of beef and potatoes in a flavorful broth seasoned with sweet Hungarian paprika, and baked three golden loaves of homemade bread; Travis' parents, Ben and Rosalie, baked a couple of apple pies and made a huge meatloaf covered with smoky barbecue sauce; and Melanie's father Joseph, brought grilled salmon filets with lemon and parsley and a big tossed salad; Elias cooked a traditional dish from Finland called Lihapullat muusilla ja puolukkahillolla which were meatballs with mashed potatoes and lingonberry jam.

Since all the attendees brought a dish, they had a large assortment of food and drinks; and after everyone had eaten, the meeting began. They sat in a circle in the living room using extra chairs from the kitchen and dining room. The Star Pride Chronicle ran a story about the racist incidents and noted that this white nationalist group was popping up in other areas.

"I want them out of our town," Rosalie said, "We thought this was a good place to raise Travis, and now these shitheads want to take over."

"They'll hide behind freedom of speech," Rick said, "And the police will protect them."

"Freedom of speech isn't freedom of consequences," Joseph said, "I've had more than enough of that defense."

Mercedes leaned against Sam, who sat next to her on the loveseat, holding her hand.

"Well, we've called the police and newspaper, and now I think we should have some sort of event at the community center. I did some research and we could put on a show and have a candlelight vigil afterwards."

"What kind of show?," Ben said, taking a sip of his coffee, "Trust me I have no talent."

A few people laughed. Mercedes smiled.

"I guess show isn't the right word. People can get on stage and tell how they overcame racism. So we can tell our stories. Or recite poems. Or sing songs. Just express ourselves and come together."

Travis, who was beside Abby in front of the fireplace said:

"Can kids do stuff too?"

"Of course."

"I want to do it."

"Ok, Anyone else?"

Most everyone in the room raised their hand.

"I have a poem in mind," Mrs. Friedman said, "Put me down for the program."

"Sure thing," Mercedes said.

Elias raised his hand.

"I would like to have a prayer meeting beforehand at the church, when Sam prayed last week, it gave us strength."

"It sure did," Lena said from the kitchen doorway, "I felt better after hearing it."

"I'm sure we can arrange it," Mercedes said, "The community church said it wanted to be involved with any event we put together."

The meeting adjourned with plans to meet again to discuss logistics of the event. People lingered afterwards, eating the last bit of food and drinking coffee. When most of the attendees were gone, Abby, Melanie, Travis, and their parents helped clean up. Elias also stayed behind to lend a hand. Mercedes sensed he didn't want to go home because the girls were with their mother that weekend. He helped her load the dishwasher while Sam swept the floor.

"We've made progress," Elias said as he put a plate into the bottom rack, "Thank you again for hosting this."

"I'm glad everyone came together."

"Me too."

They finished loading the dishwasher and sat down to the table. Sam made another pot of coffee and poured them all a cup.

"I'm sorry your girls couldn't come," Sam said.

Elias waved his hand.

"Ah, se on elämää," he murmured.

"Huh?"

"Sorry, I just said that's life."

"No problem, my grandfather used to lapse into German all the time."

Elias patted his shoulder.

"We have something in common, except for me it's Finnish," he paused gathering his thoughts, "After what's happened in this town, I remember an incident from my youth that changed me forever."

"What happened?"

"When I was about twelve years old, my family went to South Africa because my father had business there. Early one morning, I woke up and heard a commotion downstairs, like banging, and I left of my hotel room, and went downstairs to see what it was; I wandered down the hallway and the parlor door was slightly ajar, I peeked inside and I saw my father's business partners, holding down a black woman on the velvet couch and raping her. She couldn't fight back, couldn't escape, couldn't do anything, they were laughing and saying horrible racist things to her; She was gagged with one of their ties, so she couldn't scream. She wasn't human to them. They raped her because they could. That was pure hatred. I'll never forget it. I yelled at them to stop but they told me to mind my business and go back to my room. I told my father and he turned a blind eye. He said I should put such things out of my mind; that was how the world worked and it was her place. And I thought, what place was that? My mother gave me warm milk and said I should think pleasant thoughts. I saw other things too while I was there, less severe, but disturbing none the less, when I researched apartheid I learned that they studied the U.S. to create such a system."

"That's disgusting," Sam said.

"It's sick," Mercedes said as Sam wrapped his arm around her, kissing her temple and comforting her.

Elias nodded.

"It was beyond sick. Now I find hatred at my door, and I can only remember that woman. They found her body in a river a few days later. I may not understand feeling this kind of pain, but I know evil like this should be stopped. I hated my parents for their apathy and coldness; and I vowed to be the opposite. I won't turn away. I'll fight with you."

"Hatred is everywhere," Mercedes said, "Not just at our doors."

"You're right," Elias said, "But somehow I thought I was in a bubble, escaping it."

"Star Pride felt like our home," Mercedes said, "I saw us growing old here."

"It is our home and our country. Nobody can take that from us," Sam said, "I love you and our children more than anything, and I'll fight until my last breath to protect you. We'll get through this. Our community isn't standing for it."

Just then Rosalie, Ben and Joseph came into the kitchen with Travis, Abby, and Melanie following them.

"The living room is all cleaned up," Ben said, putting a bag of trash in the garbage can near the doorway, "Thanks again for having us." Ben looked as wild and unshaven as ever, with his curly blond hair sticking up in all directions.

Rosalie leaned down and gave each of them hugs.

"We'll call you next week," she said.

Joseph hugged them too, "Thank you for putting all of this together," he said, "It hasn't been easy for us and when we moved here… he stopped speaking and looked over at Melanie, who's eyes shined with tears, "Anyway, have a good night."

Abby hugged Melanie and Travis good-bye and then everyone left.

"It's time for you to go to bed," Sam said to Abby, who sat down next to him at the table.

"I know," she said, scooting her chair closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder, "I liked the meeting."

"Did it make you feel any better?"

"It did, but you know what makes me feel best?"

"What's that?"

"When you and Mommy check on me, when you think I'm asleep."

"So you only pretend to be asleep," Sam said and tickled her belly and she laughed.

"Yes," she said, calming down once Sam stopped tickling her and her voice became serious as she gazed at her parents, "And you and Mommy say how much you love me and how God watches over me and I feel safe."

Sam and Mercedes gathered her in their arms.

"We love you so much. No matter what happens, we'll keep you and Jake and Rosy safe from harm," Sam said.

"I know you will, Papa," Abby said, "But this stuff scares me. Travis says he doesn't understand it and neither do I."

"You talk to me and your Papa, if you're ever scared. Don't ever carry your fear alone, ok?" Mercedes said, kissing her forehead.

"I will. I'm not scared all the time. But then I see things on the news and I worry."

"It's unsettling," Mercedes admitted, "But we can't let this stop us from living our lives because that's what they want."

"And remember everyone who doesn't want hate in our town. And it's not only me and your mother looking out for you, it's all of our family and friends," Sam said.

"Mrs. Friedman keeps an eye on me at the park."

"She does?"

"She pretends like she's there to watch the birds, but she always leaves when I do. And Lena has been on her front porch more when all us kids are riding our bikes. And Rick tells us not to go past the cul de sac."

"See that's what I'm talking about. Everyone is on alert."

"Cooper checks in with me everyday too."

"That doesn't surprise me and I'm glad to hear it."

Mercedes glanced at the microwave clock.

"It's almost 11:30. You need to be in bed."

Sam yawned.

"She's right and I'm beat too."

He checked the alarm system and all the doors, and then followed Mercedes and Abby upstairs.

NO PLACE FOR HATE

They held the event at the Star Pride Community Center on Maple Street in the heart of downtown. After much debate, they called the program "No Place For Hate" and many concerned citizens attended on a frigid Saturday evening. They had a prayer meeting beforehand at the First Community Church and then the actual program began at 7:00 at the community center.

Sam read aloud a letter he wrote to the leader of the white nationalist group; he had no intentions of mailing it, he said, it was more cathartic than anything else. On the screen behind him was a picture of Sam, Mercedes, Abby, Rosy, and Jake the day after the snowstorm, standing in their front yard beside Victor the snowman; the snow glittered in the brilliant white sunshine; everyone wore huge smiles and their arms were wrapped around each other.

"To you I'm a race traitor because my beautiful wife is black, and my family is a palette of hues. When I warned you of the line you crossed, no holds barred, only two men at a stand-off; the fear you wanted to put in our hearts came into your eyes when you realized my response was not a threat but a promise I would keep. Remember the fear you felt as I stared into your eyes; remember it when you believe you can conquer this town. You will not tear down my wonderful family; I begin and end with them, and no amount of intimidation, fear or hatred could ever stop me from fighting. My anger is passion. My retaliation is relentless. Star Pride and I will rise up against you."

When he finished, everyone clapped loudly, and Mercedes had never been more proud. Travis went up onstage next; he held a violin.

"I'm not good with poems or speeches, but I composed this and I'd like to play it. I wrote it because I don't like what that group did; yelling mean stuff and scaring people; and everybody was getting along before. It's called Abby."

Then he began to play a soulful, delicate melody that was painful and hopeful all at once. Mercedes had never heard a composition quite like it; and to come from an 11-year-old kid, it amazed her, and the applause was loud and enthusiastic when he was finished.

Abby was next. She wore the emerald locket and Tiffany charm bracelet Sam gave her; she unfolded a piece of notebook paper and began to read.

"Thank you Mommy and Papa, for checking on me in the middle of the night and praying with me. Thank you Mrs. Friedman for staying with me in the park and walking me home. Thank you Lena and Rick for making sure we don't go too far on our bike rides. Thank you Cooper and LaTonya for sending me texts. Thank you Travis for being my friend and not laughing when I cried during recess. Thank you Melanie, for talking to me and listening. And thank you to everyone in our neighborhood who check on us and check on each other. I believe this makes us strong. When I see how everybody cares, I know they can't win. Thank you!"

Mercedes was beside herself with joy; she couldn't believe how wonderful the evening was so far and how proud she was of Abby and Sam. Even little Rosy and Jake, clapped and cheered, though not fully understanding why their father and sister were talking on a stage, it made them happy.

The other performances were engaging as well, and Mercedes was glad they were all able to come together. She knew this wasn't the end by any means, but at least it was a starting point for something better, building this community alliance gave them strength.

END NOTES: Thank you for reading my story! The content on the racist flyers came from flyers found on a college campus (I think it was PA?). This also happened in my small rural town that I grew up in (about two months ago). The No Place For Hate event is the name of an actual anti-racism campaign. The reference to apartheid and South Africa (on how South Africa created the system (by studying racism in other countries like the US)came from Trevor Noah when he discussed his autobiography Born A Crime.

#Samcedes fanfiction #Samcedes #sam evans and mercedes jones

[exxxhaling]

A Reflection: Roger Waters Us & Them

I am going to attempt to put into words my experience seeing an artist I have been listening to literally my entire life (actually before my life, as I last attended his show in the womb). Pink Floyd is easily, without a doubt, my favorite musical act of all time. Most people who know me know this to be a fact. I took one tab of lsd at this show, however I feel it did not define my experience, rather just enhanced it, and allowed me to fully tap into the emotions I’ve built up over a lifetime for this experience. The decision was pretty impulsive, but I felt as my only opportunity seeing the literal inventor of Psychedelic Rock, it was a fitting and rational decision. My personal song highlights will be first and following the end will have the majority of the rest of the set list.

Speak to Me/Breathe: “I’ve been mad for fucking years..” immediate crying ensues. I am mostly just in shock this is actually happening. After listening to this intro for 2 decades on cassette, CD, ipod, vinyl etc- I was now hearing it in front of me. Iconic. Pure shock. Singing through my crying. Breathe begins and feels exactly like a cool breath of air, like jumping into a freezing pool, water washing over your face in a cleansing and healing manner. Rogers visuals were beautiful, and took me on a little journey deeper into space.

Wish You Were Here: This song has followed me through a few of the purest, most serene, and most meditative moments in my life. It’s like a friend, almost like an angel, who hovers over me and smiles when it senses I’m feeling at ease. I have a stream of images that play through my head each time I hear this song, reminding me of those moments. Of course, crying again as this plays. Held both my friend’s hands and smiled through the blissful experience of Roger singing meditatively to me. You could feel the love and communion in the room. Roger touched on some controversial topics throughout his show but Wish You Were Here was a moment of oneness.

Happiest Days/Another Brick: I FUCKING LOST IT I have seen the searchlight through the crowd in literally hundreds of videos (and of course the Wall movie) and it happened and I LOSSSTTT ITTTT and THEN Roger does his “YOU, YES YOU! STAND STILL LADDY!” I could feeeelllll the excitement. I’m SO happy his visual choice for this song was from the 1982 Wall movie, I always loved the creepiness and darkness of the scene. The entire stadium rocks tf out, head-banging, chanting, fist raising, the natural response to one of the best Rock songs of all time.

Intermission

Dogs: I realize how much I am tripping at this point. Act 2 was definitely a more intense journey for me. The entire stadium gets split into two by the Battersea Power Station with smoking smokestacks and floating pig. The guitar in this song was moving, soothing, and hypnotic. This song felt like it lasted 3 hours. It could’ve been a show by itself.

Us and Them: Beautiful, rejuvenating, magical, a peaceful cool down journey. I held Cjs hand again on this one and I believe we felt this song together as one. Sax was literal soul food. I could feel it deep inside me, with each note pulling out my inhibitions and letting them float away.

Brain Damage/Eclipse: The iconic prism appears along with my tears once again. During the conclusion of eclipse streams of rainbow colored lights emerge from the tip of the prism and wash over the crowd. the emotion built up inside me pours out through my mumbling of the lyrics and streams of tears. I tried to hold myself together but all my mind could simplistically repeat was “so.. beautiful…” over and over and over. Just such bright, pure, ecstatic beauty. The album was alive in front of me. It wasn’t a scraped up CD sitting on my dashboard anymore, it was alive. I SAW an album I’ve been listening to for years.

Comfortably numb: i had anticipated this my entire life, (however i never thought it would be a reality) and my first thought was “no, i’m not ready”. under normal circumstances i get emotional listening to this song. i always have, and i don’t fully understand why, as its lyrics don’t necessarily align with my story. however, for years i’ve found myself tearing up (or full blown crying) when listening, in the car, on the radio, in coffee shops, etc. I knew the set list going into the show, and i knew this would be the end of my night. It started and immediately i was hysterically crying. Rogers careful attention to detail crafted a set/setting i could’ve never imaged could be so intimate yet explosive. the crowd was brand new. suddenly all phone lights disappeared, every fan old and young stood together and poured out their souls to a song the generations will forever celebrate together. Roger had waves of light rolling through the crowd with each chorus, releasing up into the ceiling along with the unanimous shouts of “i have become comfortably numb”. I’ve felt the song many times before, but i experienced the song for the first time in that moment. the feeling in the final solo was as if i had a balloon in my chest the entire evening, with each song it grew larger and larger, and finally in the last moments it burst, releasing with it streams of color and light, feelings of joy and sadness, moments of tension and ease, all at once. The confetti, the lights, the visual of the hands finally meeting in a storm of bright color, the wail of the emotion packed guitar. this was the most beautiful and pure moment of my life. nothing comes close. no festival, no achievement, nothing. cj pulls me in and hugs me tight as i break down completely. i felt liquid, my body was irresponsible, my mind was a puddle, i could feel my soul as if it was a physical being standing in front of me. it was an orgasmic finale to a night of music that defined my childhood, and continues to define my present self.

Roger dropped us off where he picked us up, an image a quiet beach, looking out over the water. How appropriate.

Rest of Set List: (still in progress)

One of These Days: an absolute gem. Visuals took me through dark hallways with flashing lights. I could feel the guitar as if it were being strung through my chest.

Time: I knew this was Cjs favorite. We held hands and I could see the priceless look on his face as tunnels of clocks flew towards us. This time around I heard the same lyrics like I never have before.

Great Gig In the Sky: a beautiful journey led by the fantastic woman duet. I had the opportunity to lay my head back and relax.

Welcome to the Machine: A little dark for me as I was coming up, but sooo well executed.

Pigs: An eye-opening and humbling call to action. I have a lot of feelings about this that aren’t related to my musical experience so I will not touch on them, however I did have an internal battle with myself on this one (Rogers exact intention).

Money: His placement of this in the set list was tooo good.

#personal #pink floyd #roger waters #us and them #trip report

[salosion]

Call me crazy all you want, Crazy is genius you don’t insult infact you lift me up now be a breeze and wind this up, intelligence is found in cups surrounded by words at tables of nerds, crazies & Gods

when rainbow colored dust, winds bye, inhale babe, inhale

for I know I won’t be able to see me die and live to tell the tale.

media fills the lives we own, disguised as lovely treats but i don’t think iv’e ever lived to taste a poison oh so sweet.

I like this picture because of the 🚪

The 🚪 is open for you for me for us and for more. More then the thought could ever explore because God exposed himself when we melted with the galore that Is Love in conquer controlling all the mediums that wear gloves to hide the real shit above like the media be the possibility where Love can spread the shores to the planets we ignore cause they're like Godly light years away, but the media is a gift people abuse like me I guess like this with this my posts of loving bits of my kisses of benevolent bliss filled with the insights of an intuitive mystic artistic good wild lickings of my spank, so I use it I abuse it, the media, cause it's my heart, it's my canvas and where I start where I post the reasons I creatively are, I use the media to try to spread far the sounds that make me so damn happy I wouldn't otherwise be poetically-rambling this fantastically,(arguably of course, taste is but self fruit picking, and Im not insult I know Im wild and swolle with it, dope to the point I know that crafts fill my souls) I use the media for my gifts so I can elevate my work higher to kiss the sky higher by the stars and higher to where God is kind enough to let us live express and be what a gift holy shit look at this you can do anything and once you realize this law of physics you can bend the rules and just exist it the wild twirl pool of infinite imaginative euphoric Holy God existence I use the media to try to fun the artistic fun and reason we’ve come by spreading awareness to fire and potential beautiful outcomes that come when you explore, Live in fun work your ass set some fun and mind fuck up yourself to spread the jelly that makes your soul wobble, till the cake is done baked to spread and exhale on plates full of chaotic creative greatness gargled up potioned special grub or better yet soul food is the term im thinking of, and of and thinking of the sounds I make and expressions I create and paint and craft and poeticize to last your mind the maze it holds inside, listen my sounds, and eclectic poetic with meaning found but mostly the sounds, tunes that fly that fly so high the galaxy doesn't see, cause its so far beyond inside the material we cant perceive cause it don't exist but it does in deed, all is non and non is need all you won is all you bleed, don't be greed be Love and you will see that the tree you become will grow many trunks with fruits that where never before conceived they'll make you trip i swear don't be scared just believe like you do every morning hen you wake up and breathe, were almost there just a few couple of weeks seconds and years well a trillion is all you need cause time doesn't exist so in the end its irrelevant well all be there to celebrate and be ourselves and all relate and make the sounds that make us great just praising found the Love that gave us chance to be the miracle gift God gave if thats not Love then nothing is, but love is my post my crazy rants repeated toasts to greatness found in surrounded floats that stir my eyes an thoughts and boats to be a douche you know I'm not and post my shit i mean a lot because my gift is more then thought its praise of God and expression and jizz of creative thought birthed into dopeness that would have never before existed, eat me, eat my shit, eat my music, and eat my gifts, maybe I'm narcissistic but I'm really not it, I'm just kinda lifted and high on this shit that makes my heart stir words to wonderment eat this cake and eat me too eat my sound keep an eye out with a view for teh new shit too but devour it all its devoured and distilled in baked artistic cake poetically manic seeming improv, which is really just creative run offs with the thing of we call this Life, chocolate eclairs are hidden though, everywhere in my shit and this you know just get through it and read it slow the earnings there it'll open your doors and maybe flare your tickles some more listen to my music my meanings fly past the seasons you passed already by reading this mass that will make you more experienced, enlightened and chaotically funtuntic fantastically confused with jelly beans running loose in your belly butterfly stomach tube where the sudden spark sinks up in abused feelings of Love for God and praising you for being there like two pairs in a 3 theres 1. 1 God many sons, and I’m this son your crazy bruh, golden heart nigga that fly’s. Salo Sion the cat in the cartoon thats not a cartoon but a person in a life on a picture above you makes him a cartoon cause its me and i just tied the three dimensional bloom? No, don’t make sense that last bit flow but kinda did have a bit of a glow I'm mean really what i said was that our perception is only shown though perceptions only shown, I'm a cartoon, like you in a world filled with goons so beautiful it’s true, but their freedoms fucked they're minds, they're evil greed gross abuse sprinkled away the shine that God is when we just loose, but thats just it and teh only way it can be true, to happen like this must learn from the view, our mission is going or choice is you, will you be the cat that chooses to weigh in the good, cause it could be fast we could soar up on the moon, even making lands out of crayons and balloons but you don't want to your stuck in your reality type of gloom cause its safe and the perks are nice because like it is a bloom that blossoms like a fight that fought Love up to make you, cause He knew you'd fuck up, He didn't want you to suffer, but the only way YOU can exist and be eternity is like this so see I'm crazy call me that its my gift, crazy in the dopest ways smoke my joints take my lift, sorry to be a bit too rich in my flourishing postage just trying to spread my Love and have folk listen to my gifts and music I devote to the life that wouldn't exist if music weren't it, I post my shit for fun and in search of fire to find the light that won our chance to exist and reach it’s higher plains of God, souls we are in body's , using out platforms and finding shit that people hide from , finding shit that people posted, posted, posted like this, I post on the media cause its fun to exist express create and one day discover life's magnificent magnificence too heavy for now but this is how we start but heaving up the sparks and talking like free like giving a shit is odd who care what people think just manifest up to the stars and your higher dimensional self through God and only Love and spreadings of nothing more, more can e like this, like this, the posts I piss and prob annoy a bit but I don’t mean it just don;t give a shit and know its dope so theres your gift ignore or it or don’t the lifts i get are delicious. this, the beauty that discovers beauty is the beauty that really hits cause what you never really know, you never really know, but what you never really know will always strike a hit in the part of your heart that it starts the heavens songs when it’s time for Prince to go on I post on media cause I don't give a shit call me crazy ill take it, its not a diss its the biggest fucking compliment to a genius you could give I post on media to spread all the lifts that take me higher posted up in thoughts that wonder if the universe is really thought or is thought just all there is I post nigga, I post cause ima a motherfucking pimp, no one else is cool enough to take there pants off so dandily the bizarre starts to star because the shine is coming in I post shit like this cause Im a star like you and him, and who knows everything every done said thought or did goes out there in the galaxy for everest, like this, S👀 so I can get the views that my heart always sees when I hear the tunes of the crazy I conceive in a world full of infinite possibility, we're meant to tie together beautifully like you never woulda believed till you believe that's how it's meant to be, your given the chance to chose to believe then you use it and it ducking works, we are here arrest we? Here with the media That sucks and the media that's for us to use and try to hold luck up to the views that'll feel the soul of true, here with my media I don't try to abuse it's my canvas and it's fun and I like how it views if you don't like it or you a bum unfollow my shits were never given a fuck to start just give a fuck to fuck Love so hard Love cummed and euphorias Birthday had her came so I’ma just be my cray pot smoking great beautiful souls and self express forever or else I just I wouldn't be myself. I use the media hella yea trying to have my music shared passion is God and passion is rare I don't give a fuck I use the platforms as my tools for expressive artistic amusement stirred by the cocktails that life's actuality has in store, for me for you for us for we, so me I’ma just be me forever fuck off unfollow, your an individual that gets to be free just like me and the proof is in the sea that currents the waves that splash up the sheets of words that verbal my bed or whirled creative eclectic gold, if you’re smart you’ll find the hold in my spaces that hold you in places that make you feel the same the same i felt when tracing around Gods gifts of inspiration and wisdom creatively birthed free out of fucks not given cause cool is free birthed out of minds and souls and hearts in trilogy working together to conceive worlds never believed birthing forever more free energy of the beauty that erases the instantly but forever exists distantly till it overflows the capacity that God is smoking up, never let the Love go to extinction it almost did you fucking racists evil asshole greedy pigs of mankind, be great be loving be beautiful be the angel your soul cakes with the freedom you were gifted over the angels weight, so that mean that YOU are greater then an angel, mankinds potential is greater then angels which means we cannot ever reach beyond God but we can reach God and marry him and live however we want by Love and Love alone and an imagination heaven conceived by the inkling that never had a begining God Life is so damn trippy it never has an ending I wish I could understand God YOU are so God damn crazy, genius beautiful I cant even take it it trips me out too much to go relate it cause i am it but theres more to this were meant to fit and if there is which there is doesn't that mean we shoulda been there by now? Were living infinite but infinite is infinite I guess we haven't won we gotta earn our stripes of Love don't be douche be a God go ahead and give people all there go, benefit of the doubt and then see you'll watch them grow, ALL, help ALL help ME:] Love the Love I Love Love the Love I Spread spread the Love that is God and together we mani-fucking-fest this is how we reach heaven and live forever without an end in such a pleasant way the worlds burdens wont ever be relevant, listen to my tunes brothers, people folks you know you always known I'm the kindest kinda wild sweetest soul your chases out the souls of the minds that are all just here to find, have fun party up, fuck for fun, write a hit, make a song, create something from nothing won the pride your heart construes, so that's why I just push it my mind these finds and this media to my bind so I can bind an infinite bind in a bind forever will shine cause the wisdom is hidden by the manic seaminess of poetic dreamless that takes the curiosity you beam with to bounds further unknown, curiosity is the disposition of creativity, a philosopher ya'll already so I just got to find my soul that shines and yearns to find and figure out ALL the infinite beautiful unimaginable possibilities of #life know like a coloring book with infinite pages to color the words and sounds and songs to skies and then oh my the possibilities tied and we found ourselves inside the insides we were bout out n in all about I only try to spread my Love devotion and the doubts my heart it cries when I see that no ones bout the music that unites my heart my soul and king crown creative bouts cause I'm bout it all the time,I’m bout it see inside I'm bout the feeling fine and what make me feel divine are insights that I find when I'm open and no fuckage ever given Im a G like motherfucker don't gotta jitter when my presence always glitters with devoted and eclectically beautifully creatively chaotically artistically divine Love.

Im crazy I know,

I mean I’m not I'm just creatively fucking dope and loose with my swerve and like to make words and poeticize Life's curves and figure it all out cause i mean were here like that fucking bird who wasn't gifted with a thinking intelligent mouth but his songs they do arouse the melodies of God’s astounding isn't even enough a bound word to describe the unbound so lets live it a found God is great and there is no word to describe his greatness because His greatness is so damn great a word cant exist.

Listen to my music homies, junkies, lovely’s, think you’re cooler then me ones funny, listen to my music and look passed my creative expressive ways I'm just a G that smokes that green more then Snoop Dogg I can say and ill challenge the brother any-day I know ill win cause I'm just so fucking great like this joint just finished and now I'm done with my great beautiful chaotic annoying crazy rant, it ain’t crazy unless its crazy and crazy is like writing some demented list to target people, or talking nonsense, I speak wisdom amongst my creative chaos, my minds a Lilly and I'm a boss, listen to my music I swear its your loss. Don’t be a pussy, Less you are a pussy, I Like those pussys, And those pussys would throbbingly palpitate their mound to my sound, Dope be a pussy be intelligently found, Open the door and look around, you'll find much more when your mind is free and open and patient and tolerant and bound.

Don’t be a pussy, Be a pussy.

Pussys are beautiful when the butterflies are engaging in gasiming sounds of heaving rounds of moaning towns inside cities that don’t exist, but thats everyone and we seem to exist so if you ended up reading this wined up creation of creativeness all its point was and started out and is to be to tell you my Loving brothers, sisters, homies, fine girls that I know but ya’ll to bland show me, call me say wassup or blow me away, but its all good I'm okay cause Im in Love in the strongest holiest Godliest way I swear my music with times will take you away to that place you want to be in that second you are free and cant believe this is happening you’re getting hardcore penetrated fucked orgasming squirting cum cause life is heavy and heavy is deep and I dug a whole to profound to leap, so for someone, for one day, for the cosmos, for Sunday, heres a little poetic entertainment that make make your day or stir your mind in ways you would have never come through sway but you did, you swayed yourself over here and for that I gift you a gift of thank you and I Love you more then I did before,

See I'm just a fucking loon, Loves to get high create art, poetry and explore music mostly cause thats what Life is for music alone music alone.

Go listen to you crazy friends music,

If I have any friends,

I know I do somewhere in you, all of you Love me as much as I do you sorry to be a loon but I cant be anyone else but myself this afternoon, had some fun with some words and a flow that took me swooping to the point that all i really want is for you to be grooving to the reason I and my friends all exist music, the music, life, no im not really crazy I'm just chaotically gifted, don't give a shit and if i may so so fucking genius.

Thank you God for EVERYTHING.

Love you fam for accepting me and existing,

All you fuckers and haters and racists and evil gators, you’ll go to hell so I still Love yo anyway cause Love is all that is, God is Love so Love you must be swolle swell spilling till the point you fell, but fuck you evil fuckers causing havoc on the world, y'all will go to hell and those who are misinformed and don't understand an ignorant, maybe open your door view others perspectives and feel their intentions hearts and what they are for so yo understand and aren't so dumb life is beautiful and meant to be won wake the fuck wake pray to God you are one, listen to this fuckers music swear to God it'll make my done.

Done = Purpose of Live