My sneakers slapping the pavement, purse jingling against my hip sound so loud against the otherwise quiet night. A dark night, punctuated only by the orange globes cast by street lights. I've lived in this suburban nightmare for years, and yet there are no doors familiar to me. No haven my knock would beckon.

My lungs scream for rest. I push on just a little more, to the park around the corner. My endurance may be lacking, but fortituted, I've a plenty.

The playground is eerie absent children, but not so scary.

Warm Santa Anta winds sway the empty swings.

Clink...

Clink...

Clink...

Clink...

I drop my purse and sit on the rubber strip waiting for my heart to slow down.

I lick a salty tear from the corner of my mouth. It tastes like pennies, blood. He must have hit me harder than I thought. Tomorrow and the days after my face would be purple. I would be showered in apologies, and excuses. Neither genuine. They would fade and so would the bruises. And so would I.

I look back the way i'd come, and then to where I might go. I pick up my purse and keep on going.

I didnt know myself until you met me.

I never thought of myself as funny until you laughed at my jokes

My kindness is my heart dancing to the beat of yours

My smiles exist because yours were so contagious

When I want to see myself, I need only, peer into your eyes

Mirrors have become so lonely.

I never wanted to move here. To this ugly house out in the middle of nowhere in a nowhere town. Where I don’t know anyone.

“It’ll be a fresh start, Champ,” says my Dad who obviously knows nothing about teenagers. I mean, starting a new school as a freshman where everybody already knows eachother? I didnt even have that many friends at my old school in the city. I may as well wear a neon sign that says, “loner”.

It took us a couple days to unpack the yellow U-Haul and hook-up appliaces.

“I know this past year has been rough on you.” My Dad says over our lunch of ramen and Ritz. At least we have the table set up. “I just want you to know-”

“Its not my fault,” I finish for him. He looks into his bowl of noodles, as if it might contain a manual for consoling a teenage son. I feel a sudden pang of guilt for the foul temper I’ve had the past several months. “It’s not your fault either, Pops,” I say.

“Thanks, son. You know, I saw a store of some kind about a mile down the road. By the apple orchard.” He reaches back for his wallet and hands me a ten. “Why dont you take a break and ride down. Check it out and grab us a couple sodas if they got some.”

He’s trying and I guess I should start trying too. This is our life now.

“Sure. Thanks, Dad.”

I grab my bmx from the garage and walk it out to the dirt road. I hop on and peddle as fast as I can. The sky looks split in two. One side is blue and sunny the other half has black clouds. The orchard comes into view and the store my dad mentioned is a little brown building that looks like it’s being held together by duct tape and a prayer. I sit on my bike wondering how many years past the expiration date on everything would be.

“You’re the new neighbor.” Says a sweet voice. I turn around and see the prettiest face I’d ever laid eyes on in my fourteen years of existance. She had eyes as green as the silk ribbon in her hair. “Well, I guess we’re your new neighbors. My name is Quinn, my family owns the feed store.” She said pointing her thumb over her shoulder.

This is probably where I tell her my name. My name? My name! “Daniel. I’m Daniel.”

“Nice to meet you, Daniel. Now that we’re properly introduced, can you help me move my table into the shed over there? Looks like a nasty summer storm’s coming in.” She squinted toward the black clouds rolling in.

Its then I notice her folding card table piled with sqares of yarn.

“I crocheted these myself. They’re pot holders. I’m not very good, yet, but was hoping to sell ’em. I’m saving up for a new saddle, but no luck so far.”

“How much?” I asked. I would have ridden home and came back with a hundred dollars if it came to it.

“I was asking five a piece, but I would give you a deal since we’re neighbors.”

“Hand made in the USA? I’ll pay you full price. I’ll take two.”

She laughed. My heart swelled at the sound. I would try my best to hear it again and again.

“What color?”

“I’ll take the two green ones.” My voice came out hoarse with nerves. I fell into her green eyes again as she met mine.

CRACK!

Thunder roared and fat drops began to drop from the sky. Tap, tap, taptaptap. We gathered the rest of her potholders in a black trash bag. Then we folded up the table together. She directed me to the shed while I carried it in. Rain was now torenchal. I ran for my bike laying in what was now mud.

“HEY DANIEL,” Quinn yelled over the storm.

I looked up, and a vision I would think about the rest of my life, was a girl with wet hair plastered to rosy cheeks and clover eyes calling out to me.

“School starts Monday, meet me here at seven and walk with me?”

My ears felt my grin. “I’ll be here.” I tucked my pot holders into my shirt and road my bike through the mud and rain.

My Dad was waiting on the front porch for me with a worried look. ” You okay? I didn’t know it was going to rain.”

It’s okay dad. It’s a summer storm. I kicked off my shoes by the front door and laid my purchase on the kitchen counter.

“What are those?” He asked.

“Pot holders.”

“Huh.”

“Hey, Dad?” I asked on my way to my room. He turned to me. I smiled, “I think you were right. A fresh start, was a good idea.”

I never wanted to move here. To this ugly house out in the middle of nowhere in a nowhere town. Where I don’t know anyone.

“It’ll be a fresh start, Champ,” says my Dad who obviously knows nothing about teenagers. I mean, starting a new school as a freshman where everybody already knows eachother? I didnt even have that many friends at my old school in the city. I may as well wear a neon sign that says, “loner”.

It took us a couple days to unpack the yellow U-Haul and hook-up appliaces.

“I know this past year has been rough on you.” My Dad says over our lunch of ramen and Ritz. At least we have the table set up. “I just want you to know-”

“Its not my fault,” I finish for him. He looks into his bowl of noodles, as if it might contain a manual for consoling a teenage son. I feel a sudden pang of guilt for the foul temper I’ve had the past several months. “It’s not your fault either, Pops,” I say.

“Thanks, son. You know, I saw a store of some kind about a mile down the road. By the apple orchard.” He reaches back for his wallet and hands me a ten. “Why dont you take a break and ride down. Check it out and grab us a couple sodas if they got some.”

He’s trying and I guess I should start trying too. This is our life now.

“Sure. Thanks, Dad.”

I grab my bmx from the garage and walk it out to the dirt road. I hop on and peddle as fast as I can. The sky looks split in two. One side is blue and sunny the other half has black clouds. The orchard comes into view and the store my dad mentioned is a little brown building that looks like it’s being held together by duct tape and a prayer. I sit on my bike wondering how many years past the expiration date on everything would be.

“You’re the new neighbor.” Says a sweet voice. I turn around and see the prettiest face I’d ever laid eyes on in my fourteen years of existance. She had eyes as green as the silk ribbon in her hair. “Well, I guess we’re your new neighbors. My name is Quinn, my family owns the feed store.” She said pointing her thumb over her shoulder.

This is probably where I tell her my name. My name? My name! “Daniel. I’m Daniel.”

“Nice to meet you, Daniel. Now that we’re properly introduced, can you help me move my table into the shed over there? Looks like a nasty summer storm’s coming in.” She squinted toward the black clouds rolling in.

Its then I notice her folding card table piled with sqares of yarn.

“I crocheted these myself. They’re pot holders. I’m not very good, yet, but was hoping to sell ’em. I’m saving up for a new saddle, but no luck so far.”

“How much?” I asked. I would have ridden home and came back with a hundred dollars if it came to it.

“I was asking five a piece, but I would give you a deal since we’re neighbors.”

“Hand made in the USA? I’ll pay you full price. I’ll take two.”

She laughed. My heart swelled at the sound. I would try my best to hear it again and again.

“What color?”

“I’ll take the two green ones.” My voice came out hoarse with nerves. I fell into her green eyes again as she met mine.

CRACK!

Thunder roared and fat drops began to drop from the sky. Tap, tap, taptaptap. We gathered the rest of her potholders in a black trash bag. Then we folded up the table together. She directed me to the shed while I carried it in. Rain was now torenchal. I ran for my bike laying in what was now mud.

“HEY DANIEL,” Quinn yelled over the storm.

I looked up, and a vision I would think about the rest of my life, was a girl with wet hair plastered to rosy cheeks and clover eyes calling out to me.

“School starts Monday, meet me here at seven and walk with me?”

My ears felt my grin. “I’ll be here.” I tucked my pot holders into my shirt and road my bike through the mud and rain.

My Dad was waiting on the front porch for me with a worried look. ” You okay? I didn’t know it was going to rain.”

It’s okay dad. It’s a summer storm. I kicked off my shoes by the front door and laid my purchase on the kitchen counter.

“What are those?” He asked.

“Pot holders.”

“Huh.”

“Hey, Dad?” I asked on my way to my room. He turned to me. I smiled, “I think you were right. A fresh start, was a good idea.”

My most joyful memory is not a captured moment waxed a patina of nostalgia, set on the mantle of my heart to be adored, although I harbor several. This memory lives in a fire proof safe bolted to the foundation my soul.

This joyful memory is actually a memory of a memory. It was ten years ago. I lay in a tangle of limbs and twisted sheets. My seven year old boy's toes tangled in my hair. My husband's leg giving me a dead one. My two year boy old plastered to my side and now the proud owner of my pillow. An errant fart. A thought of the couch strolls by. I could have all three cushions to myself, when a memory of myself bleeds through.

I must have been about ten. Too old for my Little Mermaid night light. But this night, not even Ariel couldn't keep the fear at bay. I lived with my father and stepstepmother because my own mom wasnt in a position to care for me and my stepfather was a mean alcoholic, ambivalent at best. My fathers house it was. While my Dad loved me, his wife did not. She also the wore the proverbial pants in that relationship. Cargo pants, pockets full of nasty things. And cinched them tight. Sending me to my mothers house would be expensive. Child support. I knew all of this even then, which is why I nervous climbing the stairs to their bedroom. I wanted to ask my dad to come tuck me in again, perhaps get him to sit with me a while so I didnt have be alone. That's where Fear always found me.

I stood in the triangle of light out of the half open door.

"Dad"?

"Yeah"? He asked from the other side, where the lights were on an the tv played. I really wanted to be in there.

"Can you come tuck me in"? I asked, still from the other side of the door.

One beat. Two.

"Yeah, I'll be right there."

I walked down a few of the carpeted steps waiting for him. He could walk with me down the rest and through the long dark hallway to my room.

"Don't go down there, Mike, she's fine." Came from his wife.

I waited for about five minutes. He didnt come. I went back to bed. Alone. I remember crying and trying to envision my future husband, looking forward to never having to face the nights alone.

I remembered this memory, draped in the arms (legs, and toes) of my family. The tears that night were joyous.