Becoming Jasmine Star 5 Dinner Table

Slushy rain spat onto my window as I made an attempt to catch up on sleep. It seemed to be evading me since I sent that message.

Why did I ever think sending that was a good idea?
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Just remembering it makes me shiver with embarra.s.sment. What if he thinks I'm stupid? If he didn't even want to talk with me?

I sit up and launch my pillow off the bed. Hoping that my embarra.s.sment flies across the room with it.

No luck.

I let out a deep sigh,

There's no point in me freaking out about it now. The damage has been done and if he doesn't reply then I can just forget this ever happened.

But I really do want someone to talk with...

"Sammy, you awake girl?"

The familiar voice came from the opposite side of the door making me forget about my worries in an instant.

I straighten my posture and clear my throat,

"Yeah, come in Aunty!"

The door opens, and my Aunt makes her way into the room.

My Aunt was always my favorite person since I could remember.

Though she is ten years older than me, she feels more like a friend who can understand my struggles and is not afraid to give advice in fear of being seen as immature.

I guess you could say she feels more like a childhood friend.

When I was younger, I would venture down the street to her house after school and see her laying on a chair in her sun-room. Drinking iced tea and reading some book that "wasn't for kids."

We would lay on the floor in the sun-room and she would fill me in on what happened that day.

Happy memories flood back into my head.

Right now my Aunt was excitedly sitting across from me and

It's been a whole year since I saw her.

Her olive-toned skin gotten darker, no doubt from her most recent vacation in Fiji.

"Ugh Sammy, I missed you so much!"

She wrapped her arms around me and gave a squeeze.

I hugged her back, and we immediately started to catch up on the adventures she went on since I last saw her.

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

10:00 p.m.

Ever since I was young Aunt Sara always seemed like a superhero to me, she always said what was on her mind, she always did what she wanted.

She was strong and unstoppable.

I've now come to realize that no human is invincible, but I still believe that my Aunt is upon some of the strongest.

That's one of the reasons I look at everyone files into the dining room.

Nothing good ever sat there.

She gave me a rea.s.suring smile before helping me off the couch and pulling me into the room.

I felt like I was exported to another world.

There was eighteen of us here, so the whole room was loud and bustled with life.

I watched the Christmas-lights happily dance in the living room, that's where I wanted to be. There, I could talk freely and snuggle up in a nice cozy blanket.

But sitting here is different.

I learned to avoid coming into this room since I was young,

growing up, there was no point in going to the dining room. For 362 days of the year, my family avoids eating together like the plague.

At five p.m. my sister slinks into her room to eat, mamma would wait for my father to come home, and I was left alone in the quiet, lonely, and horrifyingly empty dining room.

It didn't help that my parents often turned that place into a war zone.

"If only you didn't work so late our family wouldn't be ruined!"

Was our family ruined? All because we didn't eat together?

I had always thought that not eating together as a family was normal.

So it wasn't?

It made me wonder if there were more abnormalities in our home.

But the worst of it was yet to come.

A few times a year mamma would make random and elaborate dinners.

The table would be full of all our favorite foods.

In Hopes that this year the table would bring us together.

During those times my sister was never hungry, she locked her bedroom door. Which left me to sit in front of this elaborate dinner which looked more like a desperate plea, instead of a feast.

My father would eat quickly and leave early.

I remember as a younger kid, watching my mother sitting at the dinner table, deep in thought, and I would try making her feel better. I would shove dish after dish into my stomach more than I could possibly eat.

But, no matter how much I ate, it wasn't enough to fill their absence.

Those are my memories of the dining table, at night I would cry, the stomach ache keeping me from sleeping was painful.

Honestly speaking, the only thing that kept me from running from this room and closing my bedroom door was the fact that my Aunt sat right beside me, holding my hand.

I also hate the fact that during these times my family looks like they've become complete strangers in their own home.

I shoved food into me as if this would make time go by faster.

Soon everyone will get bored of formalities and start prodding at each other like hungry hyenas.

And usually, the victim of this poking and prodding was non-other then Aunt Sara.

I continue to eat like I was starved.

Trying to eat my way out of what comes next...