Author's Note: This is going to be fairly long, however extremelyimportant, author's note, so please, just bare with me. I blame my last hiatus on procrastination, collaboration, the 4th of July, and FJM clinics (which was one of the best experiences of my life. If you have the chance to go, I suggest you take it.) I'm blaming my upcoming ridiculously long hiatus on band camp, From the 50 Yard Line, and March4Music fundraising (both to be explained shortly). I'd love to come back in a month to a ton of reviews/suggestions.
For anyone in the Rhode Island area, I highly suggest to you attend the Rhode Island International Film Festival on August 8th to see the movie From the 50 Yard Line. It's an excellent documentary about all the hard work that goes into marching band. I was fortunate enough to see it and it is awesome. Check out w w w . f r o m t h e 5 0 y a r d l i n e . c o m for more information (my apologizes; it will not let me post hyperlinks. You will need to take out all the spaces).
On the same note, March 4 Music is a great charity helping some of the underprivileged bands seen in From the 50 Yard Line. They are holding what they call an "internet march" to raise awareness for under funded band programs. They want to register as many marching bands and band alumni as possible. Registering is as simple as sending an e-mail. Go to w w w . m a r c h 4 m u s i c . c o m for more information.
Thanks for putting up with the longest author's note ever. I hope everyone enjoys Kiwi's latest adventures until next time.
I went running on Christmas Eve (no, I don't know what's wrong with me either). My skin seemed to welcome the cold air and the light snow that was falling on the ground. Everyone's Christmas light twinkled beautifully in the starry December night. It was about as perfect as a Christmas Eve could ever get.
My life had only gotten more confusing since that Sunday. When my mother returned from shopping that day, she started talking to me again for no rhyme or reason. She didn't mention corp or even apologizes; she just started talking like nothing had ever happened. As odd as it was, I wasn't complaining. I had missed my mother.
The second thing that happened was that Uncle Mark started calling to my mother very frequently and they would talk for long periods of time. My mother would often lock her door or go down to the basement so no one could ease drop on their conversation. Uncle Mark and my mother had always been rather close, but this was a weird even for them.
The third thing that happened was my running shoes reappeared, in the exact spot I had left them. My parents seemed oblivious to it, which was odd considering even Mark noticed. However, this incident was fairly minor compared to the other things going on at my house.
I hadn't emailed Beth Browning yet. I figured I would wait to see if my parents had given me a straight answer by New Years and then I would e-mail her. At that moment, I was what was called "cautiously optimistic." I hadn't given up hope just yet.
By the time I got home, my dad was watching TV and my mom had already gone to bed. There were a couple old photo albums that I had never seen sprawled across the coffee table.
"What are these?" I asked my dad.
"Your mom's childhood photo albums. She was looking at them this evening."
I picked up on of the books and started flipping through it. There were lots of pictures of my mom when she was little; Mom at the beach, Mom at the fair, Mom's first day of school, Mom with Uncle Mark and Aunt Melody, whom I was named after. There were lots of pictures of just the three of them laughing. Mom had come from a very close knit family. She had told me repeatedly that Aunt Melody was her best friend growing up.
"Dad," I asked, "what happened to Aunt Melody?"
"She died." That was the same answer he gave every time I asked about her.
"How?" I asked.
Dad turned off the TV.
"It's a very sad story."
"Melody was living outside of San Francisco. She was working as pediatrician at a small family practice. Your cousin Chrissie was about a year old. I believe Chrissie had the flu and she had run out of medicine. Melody's car was in the shop, so she ended up walking to the local pharmacy. When she was crossing a street, she was hit by a truck they think was going close to seventy. Melody never had a chance. She died on impact. They never found out who hit her."
"You and Mark were about four. Your mother was crushed. She didn't come out of her room for almost a week. She didn't drive for almost a year. Even though it was fourteen years ago, I don't think your mother has totally recovered. She still has a hard time trusting people."
I was stunned. I had always been told she was "in an accident." I had no idea she was a victim of a hit and run. I didn't know what to say.
Head spinning, I told my dad good night and walked upstairs.