VULNERABILITY

Years

My childhood memories were full of adventures in the forest. My brother and I would make boats out of leaves and sticks. Inside the green leaves, there would be notes to what we called the Outsiders who lived at the end of the small creek. We would write our secrets and wishes on the scraps of notebook paper. Every time we returned home, we would be muddy but a smile was always on our faces. It drove our mom crazy. 

My high school memories were less adventurous. I was not allowed to go into the forest or go out for the cheer team. I was not allowed to go to the mall with my friends unless my dad came. This shift from adventure to being babysat infuriated me to no end. My brother would be MIA from the early morning to the late afternoon and no one batted an eye. They said he had "work." I wasn't allowed to go alone because it wasn't "safe." 

It was a life of isolation. However, that's how I found my passion. Photography. I didn't have to go deep into the woods to get striking photos of the Colorado mountains. And becoming a part of my school's journalism staff wasn't hard, and I was allowed to do it. I took sports pictures, study body pictures, and basically anything I could capture with my lens. I really took a shine to it. 

Life was great my senior year. Until I got a college acceptance letter from another state.

My spoon barely dipped into my cereal before my mother stalked into the kitchen with an envelope clutched in her hand. She was gripping it so hard her knuckles were white. I could only imagine what was inside. 

"What is it, Mom? Somebody sending Dad love notes again?" I joke before swallowing a spoonful of milk and cheerios. To my surprise, she doesn't laugh. Not even a smile. Nothing. 

"You applied to college. In New York." It was a statement, not a question. She looks deadly serious. It doesn't register right away that she is furious. 

"Did I get in?" I squeal in childish excitement and discard my cereal completely. I tried so hard to get into that college. I almost didn't try but I'm so glad I did. Only the best get in. I made it. I can't believe I made it. Julia is going to freak when I tell her. 

Before my fingertips can graze the crisp envelope my mother wretches it out of my reach.  

"You are not going." In seconds my acceptance letter is torn to pieces right in front of me. My heart breaks. I grab at the shreds with tears slipping down my cheeks. 

"B..But, Mom, why. . .  I tried so h-" 

"ENOUGH." She roars and roughly shakes my shoulder. "You are not going and that's FINAL. I can't believe you went behind our backs. What happened to Hosson? They have a great photography program." 

"B..But I.. " 

My dad picks the perfect time to open the door. My brother is behind him. Their laughing is cut short when they see me kneeling on our kitchen floor with tears on my cheeks and shreds of paper all around me. 

"Go to your room, Poppy. We're done here. I don't want to hear anything else about this." 

I take off up the stairs with blurred vision and a sob caught in my throat. I slam my door shut and dive onto my bed. My pillow muffles my screams. It takes an hour before I am all cried out. 

A ding from my nightstand grabs my attention. 

Julia: Do you have the answer for #3 on Mr. Shingles HW???? #sos 

Me: Ya, it's (all real numbers) 

Julia: OMG thnx you're the best!! 

Me: I don't feel like it.