By: Bailey White

If there are alleys inside me, there must also be hallways. I take a walk inside getting Rosey.

Rosey was my grandma’s cat and we had to watch her for a week; She’s this beautiful gray, silvery kitten. She’s a year old now but still small. My grandma kept asking us to keep her for a little longer and then eventually asked if we wanted to keep her for good. We said yes and she’s been my baby ever since.

Ever since then, we’ve been each other’s emotional support.

Whenever I have a stressful day at school, she’s always there for me. I go in to see her and she lays her head right on my shoulder. I head to the bathroom and she sprints after me wondering where I’m going, waiting for more snuggles.

The next morning, she comes in and chirps at me waiting for me to get up so she can be held. We have our morning conversation and the cycle continues.

Those are the best conversations.

Martha’s Vineyard by Ellie P

I don’t know how long the car ride was. Hours I’m sure. Maybe even days. The long endless feeling trip, but to an unforgettable place. I have not been to Cape Cod in years, but forgot the greatness about it. The long campfire nights and the toasty burnt marshmallows with Reeses Cups. Laughing and gossiping until two in the morning with my best friend and family, and projecting movies anyway we could while squished on one bed in the camper.

On a cloudy-ish day we had nothing planned, we decided to take a day trip to Martha’s Vineyard. We got up super early and drove to the marina to get a huge ferry, called the Nantucket. We went up to the deck outside and took our seats, which were surprisingly comfortable and felt like the seats you would find in an auditorium. On the way over, as soon as we departed the wind picked up a fair amount and my hair stood up like a troll. The smell of the salty, fresh, summer air was refreshing to breathe in. The boat ride was over before I knew it. It felt short but was a good forty-five minutes. Getting off the boat: my legs were shaky from all the rocking but we kept walking. 

We decided to get lunch first even though it was only eleven, but we were glad we went early. The lunch spot we wanted to go to was all the way across the island so we got on a bus that shuttles around the island and embarrassed the very cramped ride. It smelled kind of bad but the windows were open for a while. As soon as my family got off we started walking a few blocks to a delicious restaurant called The Seafood Shanty. It took so long to get a table but I ordered my food right away. Shirley temples and fish and chips are the way to go when you’re eating on the waterfront. The view was beautiful and by that time the clouds cleared up to full sun. The waiters and waitresses were super nice and all had british accents. When the food was walking out to us it smelled fresh and I remember biting into the fish brought back all the thoughts and memories of being up north eating on the water. The taste was crisp and fresh with salty hints.

Shopping was personally my favorite part. We went to a variety of shops such as: Souvenir shops, Vineyard Vines, The Black Dog, and Lululemon. There was a lot of walking and I got very tired. The day we went was very crowded, and we learned there was a big bike race across the whole island. My mom took many pictures, but I couldn’t because my phone was broken. We walked around a bit- my friend and I laughing practically the entire time, then decided to get ice cream. My mom was searching and found a cute, little, family-owned shop and so we stopped there. Walking in it smelled the sweet ice cream smell, with many fun, colorful decorations. The rain started to pick up for the day and we had to head back to our boat, so we started walking anyway. We were the first ones on the dock, and the feeling of it rocking back and forth felt like I was on a wobbly wooden bridge. We got on board in the pouring rain and walking inside it was very loud from all the rain echoing, and the workers around to do their job. It was a very rocky ride back, but it was such a fun trip. When we got back to the car, we were talking all about how fun it was to go, and what a great experience it was.

Christmas Morning:

I remember waking up. Walking downstairs to see my grandpa on the couch, mom making coffee in the kitchen, and my dad with our dogs. The excited look on my little brother’s face knowing that this is the day we have been looking forward to for months.The tree shining from all the lights and ornaments with presents scattered around the room stocking on the couch and chairs overflowing with gifts. My little brother runs to the HUGE nerf gun on the table that says Santa on it. I remember he was shooting me all day with it.

 We open stockings first. After getting so many fun gifts from “santa” I secretly look at my mom and say thanks. After opening our stockings we open the pet’s ones. The gerbils get treats and wood toys and the dogs get chew toys and peanut butter treats that are overpriced and they only get them on special occasions.

 I remember after the stockings my mom asks me if I want hot chocolate. I do remember the love of taking the first creamy chocolaty sip from my warm mug. I look and laugh at the whip cream on James’ nose as we start to open the gifts. I remember liking this part because I give mine and receive this is so fun because I finally get to show people what I got them and I get to see what was wrapped and under the tree for me. 

After all gifts are done James heads up stairs to play with all his toys and things. I go to my room and organize all the makeup and things I got. When I am done I go back downstairs to smell the turkey and amazing food in the oven, and we start to bake for the xmas dinner.

JACK JOHNSON

And through the drunk of a boring eighty minutes, putting a pen down and frothing forward a drooling ink from the pen in my hand, I dozed off, obviously enough, unable to put up with the simple descriptions that mulled over genuine interesting glitter shines and wouldn’t shut up about turning purple or green, depending on something or whatever.

Under my wand of language was the reasonable chill of every season, the metaphorical frost which gathered on the ends of the folds in my hand. The crumbles of the cells were cooled, with the outermost bits of space just freezing further. Yet–it only took just moments of the winter under my palms waning into a room-temperature, and to a satisfactory even if barely a warmth while I sat in waiting, unable to even keep watching the colors directed in front of me.

And through my eyelids lifting the weights of exhaustion that crusted over the wet I daydreamed, obviously enough, which through the vision appeared the sparkle and genuine interesting glitter shines that wouldn’t appear in my anti dormance.

Up rose with its pastel pegasus shimmer, there was a cat whose fur must have been tinted to a bubblegum and littered with the paint determinant of sprinkles. And from its groomed pelt that curled on tiny ends it spilled glitter that reflected the rainbows adjacent to a cup of tap water chugged under the middle day sun. And upon inspection, clear enough, the shadows of its brilliantly hued pelt were too a bit rainbow, with a pink and a yellow and a purple and all in between.

From the cat’s shoulders branched forward the arms of a bird–and, clear enough, they blended magnificently to a brighter sunshine. They boasted and held onto the white starry qualities of a gaseous newborn star that lacked red, and only held reflections in its cell wall. And despite its little miniscule feathery imperfections, clear enough, the dust of stars that glossed its wings had fallen off like a pharaoh’s trap of sandstone and glitter.

Parallel vertically with the rainbow glitter-tarred nose of the being of sprinkles and shimmer that’d stop the sun itself dead in its tracks, just above its incomprehensible eyes I didn’t even bother to salute, clear enough, was a spiral. Some sort of spiral which balanced the bright in its bounce with the dip that shone shadow. The spiral that changed it all to me and let the cat lie with its majesty, and the spiral which coned itself to a level which any rhinoceros would turn green.

The cat had flicked an ear–and I now noticed perhaps this cat was less of one but more of a kitten. Its eyes were wide in conjunct with its paws, which swirled with another pyramid, clear enough, letting itself swim in this ocean of no gravity, for it lived in the space we couldn’t breathe or understand, and I, clear enough, could not either. Yet, clear enough, I guessed that in that moment it couldn’t matter much, as the air tasted like cupcakes and the murderous sweet of a sugar cookie, and my nose was textured in the breath of discarded glitter.

I had no chance to say goodbye to the moment, and apparently had died away in the air without oxygen. It was the one thing that was not clear to me, unlike how simple it was to breathe in order to inspect the glitters I’d looked for. Because the pen I’d held that leaked a shine of space was now off from my hands, somewhere alligatoring by the rubbers below me on the ground under hard stomps. If the clearness had taught me just one thing it would be that we cannot breathe in outer space and that I should listen, rather than watch.

The memories I always remember are, listening to old songs from 2012 – 2017 or 2011. I also remember watching Nickelodeon and cartoon network/boomerang at my grandma’s house. And nothing tastes better than running to my grandma’s room to get a pouch of Yoohoos. I remember my old house where I forgot most of the stuff. I had a red tin with stuff inside that were two decks of UNO cards. One of them was a Minecraft edition pack and a regular pack, Lego creations, a mini glowable candle from a snowman project for stations at 3rd grade, Pokemon Rayquaza tin with no cards, Mcdonald toys, and a Rubix cube, which i saved before the tin went missing or thrown away. I remember drinking a Lipton tea bottle while waiting for the bus. I remember playing outside with friends at my grandma’s house where we came up with weird games like, playing tag around cars (they were parked) we would go around them and do what the game is called, tagging. There’s also a top hill that has a cracked tan surface where I used to ride my bike that was metallic green. And that bike had training wheels.

This is the day I got my first dog. I was 8 years old and I was on my way back from a party with my parents and we took a sudden stop at my uncle’s house. I walked inside with my mom and my first sight was a small kennel full of baby chihuahuas. I immediately knew what they were there for after that. My uncle walked out of his room and he told me to take my pick and take a chihuahua home. I looked at my mom in disbelief and thought that she wasn’t going to let me since I had been begging for a dog before, but no. Instead she looked at me and told me to pick anyone I wanted. There was a lot to choose from but I saw the smallest one there which was a black white and brown mixed chihuahua with its eyes still closed. I knew that was the one I wanted and I took him home. Choosing a name took a day but my mom ended up on Cocu. Cocu was with us for 2 years, before we got another dog and named her Cica. We had two chihuahuas named Cica and Cocu. We had them for a total of 5 years and eventually we had to give them away due to a lack of time that we had to spend with them, therefor they had to spend all day alone at home, and we thought it was unfair, but I will never forget who my first dogs where.

Five thousand, two hundred, and eighteen days since I’ve been his favorite Catherine. Five thousand, two hundred, and eighteen days since he’s been my favorite Poppi. It’s something he has always said to me. My grandma’s name is Catherine too, but he thinks it’s funny to say that I am. That’s something I will never forget. I will also never forget the paper airplanes she would throw off the balcony with him. I will never forget that little girl whose face lit up when she saw her Poppi. I will never forget that silver and pink tiara which she would wear constantly. I will never forget his warm pancakes, hot chocolate, and bacon which would fill that girl up for the entire day. Never will I forget his stories during Sunday dinners that captivated everyone in the room. Never will my love for Poppi go away. 

When he comes over for Sunday dinners, his smile makes everyone else smile. Always wearing that blue Phillies shirt, white Temple lacrosse shirt, or one of his many Hawaiian shirts. He drops off cookies at my house and comes to my lacrosse games. I can’t help but be happy. When he walks onto my back porch carrying some food that we all already know will be some of the best we ever had.

When I am older I will never forget him coming to my games, coming to my house, or sunday dinners. Five thousand, two hundred, and eighteen days since I have met my favorite Poppi. Five thousand, two hundred, and eighteen days since my love for Poppi started.