ENC 1101-B3 & B4: Writing for Discovery

Good morning sunny LA, it is currently 9:00 am, high of 70 degrees, with a 10% chance of rain, although clouds expected to move in later tonight. Get out and enjoy this beautiful Saturday morning. In fact, go enjoy a special $3.99 breakfast at Sherry’s, where you will always find home cooked meals for great prices.

I mean really? Who puts sky lights in a bedroom? I’m not a fan, on the only day I have to sleep in. Well, I guess I’ll be productive on my Saturday and get up. Maybe I’ll go to the park for a run-no, I’ll go to the beach-yeah. I know there’s gonna be something going on wave wise. Oh, I forgot. I need to patch up that ding. Never again, will I lend out a board. No more nice Melanie. Every time I do, something happens. Hey, I bet they got some new work in at the gallery. Its been weeks since I’ve been. That’s a reason to get up.

Don’t step on a crack or you’ll break your mother’s back. What a magnificent day. It would be a sin to stay in doors on a day like today. Maybe I’ll go run after all. First, I will check out the new art work. No matter what mood: happy, goofy or depressed I get lost in the art work at the gallery. That’s why I am hesitant about even going, because I know I‘ll spend the whole day there. “Oh, I’ll be just thirty minutes,” but somehow that thirty minutes turns into thirty hours, well not really, but you get the point. As gay as it sounds these paintings have been my refuge and shelter in the storms of life; the place I can escape. Kind of like a movie or book. I could spend hours here, admiring each stroke and shadow, while releasing my mind from the stresses of life.

“Hey Sandy, I am so glad to see you back.”

“Believe me when I say I am glad to be back. I like being a mother, but its harder than I thought. Jon’s watching Tyler on Monday and Wednesdays, while I become a career woman again.”

“Yeah, your maternity leave was longer than I thought it would be. I was wondering if you’d ever come back.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but I need some kind of an outlet from rattles and baby food and Joe is willing to let me work two days a week. Well, that’s enough about me. How are you doing, sweetie? Finishing up school?”

“Yes, and I was offered a Public Relations job with Volcom, starting this fall.”

“Congratulations!! That’s wonderful. You have talked about that job since you were a freshmen.”

“I know, it was that internship last spring that did it for me.”
“Well, that may be, but I think you did it for yourself. You worked so hard.”


While, soaking in all the new work; my gaze caught a landscape picture of Holland and immediately feelings of regret and pain attacked me. I was having such a great morning and I didn’t even think about it once the whole day. Of course, this perfect picture, with a refreshing sky, millions of brilliantly colored tulips, and a windmill had to be the reminder.

The tulip has been my favorite flower since childhood, but things change. Now, the thought of this makes me weak. Unfortunately, the painted flowers brought me back to a place I have spent the last 6 months trying to forget- a place far from the small California art gallery. As I stood below that painting; I felt powerless, while my mind raced back to that breezy day in the field:

We walked from the quaint town to the tulip nursery. I was so overwhelmed by the brilliant colors, as they danced in the wind. It was just me and Todd. We had fallen for each other in that summer and as it was coming to an end I knew we must too. I had never planned for this to happen, as we spent the whole summer just friends, all changing the week before I was to leave. “Never leave me.” I can still hear those whispered words echoing, as they still paralyze my body.

In that moment I knew I loved him and in that moment- I knew I couldn’t. I felt in that last day with him the reality of my life setting in. This ugly reality was carried in with the breeze as the afternoon went on. He led me to a windmill where we sat in its shade and he picked a white tulip and handed it to me. As I held the flower in my hand I found a bracelet with “My Mel” engraved.

My heart fell into my stomach as I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. There was no way I could cry in front of him and I’ve never really been good at emotional stuff anyway. The pain of leaving him was too great to bear, leaving me no choice, but to run away. Both literally and emotionally I ran away and never have I ran so fast. I sprinted back to town, leaving him alone. The next day I flew out, without a word of explanation. Instead of a simple goodbye I wrote him a letter about a week after returning to the states. There is no way I could have ever said goodbye in person. Honestly, if I was to say what I said in the letter, in person I never would have gotten on that plane back home.

As I watched the canvas’s tulips sway in the wind, I didn’t find the refuge that a normal painting would have given me. I was not lifted from this world, nor did I find an escape, only pain.

Maybe I needed to deal with it, hell, I ran away from the only man I’ve ever loved. A person can’t carry that kind of stuff around with out it coming out somehow. Although. I would love to think I can. “I am the exception.” I can forget about what happened this summer.

It had been roughly 6 months since I left him alone in that field. The thought gives me goose bumps. Besides, the dear Jon letter I sent and his simple reply, we have shared no communication since the sunny morning in the field of tulips. It was easier just to block the pain out than have to deal with it. Blocking it out is exactly what I did, until those tulips laughed me in the face. Those innocent flowers became knives and sliced my unhealed wound.

The thought of dropping everything and returning to his outstretched arms crossed my mind everyday. It tumbled around my mind, but commitments hold me back. It is those commitments that made me leave in the first place. I reached into my purse and grabbed the letter. I have not read it since I first opened it 5 months ago. I opened it read it and put it at the bottom of my purse. Although I have not read it since I first opened it I have carried it with me everywhere. It is the same as my feelings, even though I have not truly dealt with them I have certainly carried them everywhere. I read it for the second time, although now its wrinkled and stained.

Melanie,

Come back and bring my heart, with you. You stole it last summer on a breezy afternoon. My arms and are open.

Much Love,
Todd

So, here I stand before this painting. Should I make this art work a reality and go back to his outstretched arms under the windmill or should I continue with my commitments?

“Wow, breath taking. Isn‘t it?.”
“Yeah, I know. You should see it in person”
“Oh, I have, I lived there for two years, back when my husband was in the military. I have lived in twelve different countries and out of them all I can honestly say, Holland was my favorite. If my husband hadn’t passed away, I would be there right now, but my only family lives in LA, so here I am.”
“I spent the last summer there and had a chance to stay.”
“Well there, honey. What’s holding a young girl like you back?”
“Commitments”
Oh, I see. A girl has to do what a girl has to do. So long.
Bye………..

Our relationship was based solely on friendship. I never thought finding someone, so perfect, was possible. As dumb as it sounds, I am convinced we were made for each other. I have never been so comfortable around any other person in my entire life. I have often heard people say: You know when it’s the one.

The only thing that stands in our way is commitments. My commitments. Before leaving for Holland I was engaged and then offered, my dream job after completion of my senior year. This is the job I have wanted my entire life, a job as a promoter for Volcom.

To make this picture my reality I must drop reality. At fist I thought “I can drop everything I have here and start new over there,” but once I came back I was not strong enough. I forgot how special it was in Holland, rather I tried to forget. Seeing these tulips today in this painting made these memories resurface and that hurts. I finally got to a point where I was confident in my life in America, but now I don’t know.