By Aryetta Koutsogiannis, ’22:
You and I live in two different worlds. You the reader see in vibrant colors but for me it is dim. I walk on four while you walk on two, my hearing and smell are better than yours, but you can see a wider range than I. I don’t like milk, a common misconception, and I purr when I am pleased. There is a saying, “You only live once.” While that may be true for you, I
have the privilege of living nine.
Yes I am a feline you guessed it. Stay a while.
Bright and early, I wake up. She feeds me my food and I drink my water. I watch her stress as she hands the boys a brown paper bag and rushes them out the door and she kisses them goodbye. They disappear into a big yellow car and wave at her as they move further and further away. She walks away, into her room, with a table and chair and a large screen. She never forgets to close the door. Throughout the day, I hear her talk to a man, but the man doesn’t seem to be near. The boys come home. It is time for dinner. I close my eyes.
It’s the morning, I drink my water. I see the boys talking to her, in a manner of struggle. They seem to not want to go on the yellow big car. They neglect her kisses. She continues to talk to them until finally they give in and leave. She once again, closes the door, and speaks to a voice.
They come back, they seem taller. Larger, too. Dinner is ready.
This morning, the boys are wearing big robes. Like she wears, but shinier. They have smiles on their faces. She is wearing an expression on her face. She is happy. My bowl is full, once again, I am drinking my water and eating my food. She leaves with them, and they aren’t in the yellow car this time. Her door is open, I walk in. On the screen there is writing on it saying,
“Congrats on your acceptance!” They come back a few hours later, she has black streams down her face. The boys look at her and hug her. The next day, the boys leave with large boxes. She is crying, streams and streams of tears. She waves them off goodbye and they look back at her with smiles on their faces. I close my eyes, yet there is no commotion.
My bowl seems to be empty. Has she forgotten her third child? No yellow car. No boys.
After what seems like years, they walk in the door. They brightened up her house. She
comes running to them. It is like she hasn’t seen them in forever. They hug her and show herlove. Life is back. Dinner is ready. They talk and talk for hours.
I open my eyes, this time, someone unfamiliar is here. A girl, she is sitting next to one of the boys, laughing with him. They once again, leave and say their goodbyes. She shakes the girl‘s hand. I close my eyes.
It is early out. The boy comes back, it’s been months. The girl walks in, she shows her a ring on her finger. She gasps. She is happy.
Months and months go by. It must be years. She grows older, yet happier. She doesn’t speak to the man anymore. It is the middle of the day and we eat together. A boy walks in, he looks just like the other boy I know. The boy runs up to her and she hugs him tightly.
She is happy.
I close my eyes.
Renaissance Arts and Literature, presented by Phoenix Online
In an effort to reach as many of our Kellenberg Families as possible, Phoenix Online is now proud to post weekly poems, prose, art, and photography from our student contributors for Renaissance, Kellenberg’s Arts and Literature magazine. The Kellenberg Memorial students and staff at Renaissance and Phoenix Online are proud to share these creative works. We hope you enjoy them.