So, I don’t have like long at all. (More like, I shouldn’t be on here right now!) I’m getting ready for a wedding and have to leave in like ten minutes and am not ready at all… But I wanted to give y’all a post before I left. Anyway, here’s part nine to Where Dandelions Grow.
I had no idea what to say. I mean, wouldn’t it seem sort of weird and perspicuous to write to a well-known girl saying ‘Hey! I’m your cousin! Wanna meet with me?’ I mean, how lame can it get?
When I told Lexie that the Teal O’Conner she had found was indeed our cousin, she’d been equally surprised. And now here I was, sitting at a blank computer screen in my little apartment that I was sharing with three other girls, wondering how in the world I was ever going to get up the nerve to type out an email. Glancing down at the CD case (which is where I got the email address to contact her at), I tried to imagine what Teal was like. It’s been eleven years. She was only seven the last time I saw her.
Images of playing gleefully in the backyard raced though my mind, followed by the memories of the somber moods we displayed while reenacting cholera outbursts on wagon trains. The doctors that came to take care of us were always as handsome as they got, and all of us girls who weren’t sick would be duly comforted and assured that everyone would recover. Does Teal remember those times?
Finally I stationed my fingers on the keyboard and began typing rapidly, not worrying about my grammar or how much sense I was making.
Please don’t think I’m trying to win any favors, ‘cause I’m not. Really and truly. I just wonder if you remember me. I’m Destiny. Your cousin. We used to play together all the time at our house Swallow Ridge. Remember, Nanny used to watch us? It was the four of us, Kamryn, Lexie, you and me.
I lost contact with all of you years ago, and I’ve come back to Sallow Ridge in the hopes of finding you all. Lexie’s here too. She came for collage. Then when I was working in the bookstore, I saw the CD, and the people here say that you’re my cousin. I still haven’t found Kammy, but I’m looking for her.
I know this is probably a strange email, and you might just ignore it. But maybe you could just email back and tell me if you remember us cousins?
Then, before I had a chance to decide that it was a stupid email and shouldn’t be sent, I pressed the send button. Alright now. I’ve done it and I just need to wait. No reason to expect a reply any time soon.
Opening a word document on the laptop, I sprawled myself across my bed and then quickly wrote down some of the thoughts I had been brainstorming about over the past few days. My most well-kept secret was soon being put to use as I began typing vigorously. I am a writer. I was born to write, and therefore I will write. My mother was so against it from the beginning. She told me time and time again that one writer in the family is enough. But I disagree. Not wanting to have my dream killed time and time again though, I stayed quiet about it. Soon my mom thought I’d given it up and moved on to other things. Little did she know…
When kids asked me what I planned on doing after I got out of high school, my mumbled reply was always something about working in a bookstore. That gave them the impression that I didn’t have much ambition in life, which was fine with me. And I did want to work in a bookstore. I wanted to own a bookstore. Complete with a whole shelf of my own books. But I didn’t want people to know they were mine. I didn’t want to seem like a success. Success was lame. That’s the long and short of it. The dreams I have are my own, and I don’t need to tell anyone else about them.
Staring out the window, I noticed for the first time how Autumn was truly taking over the greenness of cozy Swallow Ridge. The maple trees that crowded around the house my apartment was hosted in were turning vibrant shades of yellow and a whole spectrum of red and orange hues. Squirrels were skittering about, collecting nuts or else chattering in an annoyed fashion at the neighborhood dogs. Sighing happily, I bent over my laptop again. Autumn is my favorite time of year. I missed it so much when I lived in California. I had a feeling the change in the weather would provide many moments for my imagination to take over and create a scene I would have to write down. That’s why I always carried my notebook and pen around with me.