Driving over the “big bridge” to Jeff City on a random summer night only meant one thing in my family, pickleball. My brother and I got a little too excited every time we would go but no one seemed to mind. Some of the family was there, cousins, aunt, uncles, everything was just going just the same as always. The little kids were chasing each other around, playing tag, and everyone else was taking this recreational game a little too seriously. During a water break my Aunt Jane handed me a big, striped peppermint, given I was only 6 or 7, I didn’t think of what could happen if I started running around again with the hard candy in my mouth, but I soon found out. Everything was more blurry than it should be and my first thought was to find my mom. Although she was in the middle of a game, I yelled for her, or at least tried. I would scream but no noise would come out, whenever I tried to talk I just coughed more. By the time my mom finally realized what was happening I could barely breathe. From what I saw everyone started to panic a little when they tuned in to what was going on. My uncle, Buddy, ran behind me and started pushing up on my stomach, at the time, I had no idea what he was doing, but I was thankful for it afterwards. A couple seconds later the peppermint popped out and I started crying. It was terrifying enough not being able to breathe, but now everyone was looking at me. After everyone, including myself, had calmed down, they went back to their game.
“You scared us all to death little missy.” My aunt Jane said.
I giggled, still a little shaken up.
I sat with my aunt for the rest of the night, and till this day I have rarely eaten a peppermint.

Many months after the peppermint incident my brother, sister and I got the worst news any child could’ve gotten. It was one spring evening; we had done our homework, eaten dinner and were watching the most recent episode of Drake and Josh when my mom and dad called all three of us into the kitchen.
“Are we in trouble?” my brother, Jaden asked, obviously sensing that something wasn’t right.
“No, you guys aren’t in trouble, your mom and I just want to talk to you about some things.” My dad said.
“What would you guys think if your dad moved out?”
“Why would he do that?”
“Your mother and I think it’s best if I leave and move into a different house. We aren’t getting along anymore as you three know, and we think it would be better for everyone if I moved out.”
None of us kids said anything. What was there to say?
“And don’t think that it’s your fault because it’s definitely not.” My dad said, not so reassuringly.
What a typical thing to say. Andrea and Jaden sat there, without a peep. I, on the other hand, started crying. I still couldn’t tell you why I started to cry, maybe because everything was soon going to change. Normally I love change; I rearrange my room more than I should, I organize everything even if it’s already organized, I buy a new phone case every month just so I can have something fresh, new, different if you will, but this was one change I wasn’t okay with. So many questions soared through my mind, so I guess the only way to let them out was to cry. I blamed myself for everything, even after my sister and I talked for 4 hours one night, about how it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Now I realize that there’s nothing I could’ve done differently and that my sister was right, but then it just seemed like she was making excuses, lying to herself and me.
He found a house 2 weeks after that day, we still see him every week but it won’t ever be the same as before and we would be naïve to think that it would.

A year or two later my grandpa, my mom’s dad, passed away. I remember this day like it was yesterday because of how much it broke my heart to see my uncles, aunts, my mom, my grandma, and all the people who seemed invincible, the strongest people I knew and will ever know, completely break down. My grandpa had a lot of health problems and he was fairly old. He smoked so his lungs were pretty weak and his heart wasn’t doing that great either. We all did our best to deny the fact that he wasn’t going to be with us that much longer, but we came face to face with that fact when he wound up in the hospital with a broken hip and fractured wrist, he had fallen. My grandma knew this wasn’t good so she got him a hospice nurse so that he wouldn’t have to be in a hospital his last days. My whole family stayed at my grandma’s house, all wanting to be there when he left us. It was one evening after a dinner my grandma and us girls made, we piled as many people in his room as we possibly could and we all just sat. My grandma started humming the tune to Amazing Grace and everyone slowly joined in. I was in the room with my cousin, Megan, and all of the little ones. We offered to watch them so that the adults could be with him. I was rocking my baby cousin and humming along with them from the other room, the song slowly came to an end and I still hear the sound that his moderator made, the long buzz, almost like it was planned to end right when the song was over. Megan began to cry but it hadn’t really hit me. How could someone be gone just like that? Everyone took their turn saying good-bye but I did not. I regret that till this day and always will, but at the time, saying good-bye to my grandpa who was alive just minutes ago, seemed impossible. In a way I feel guilty, or selfish, like that was my time to say good-bye once and for all and I didn’t jump at the chance to take it. I know that my grandpa still feels the same way about me, but I don’t really feel the same way about myself. His funeral was the week after that night and oddly enough, the funeral was the easy part of this tragic event. After the burial, everyone went to the basement of the church to have lunch and talk but what boggled my mind the most was that people were laughing and it seemed like they were genuinely having a good time, at a funeral? I didn’t get how they could be happy or at least act happy when we had just put my grandpa into the ground. That truly made me mad.

I was now in Middle School, the school where I met my current best friend, Amanda. In a way you could say that’s where the trouble began. Amanda and I both went to the same Elementary school and were in the same classes in 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade, unfortunately we didn’t become close till 6th and 7th grade when we were both stuck on team 61, the jaguars. Amanda is the only one who really understands, me and all the problems in my life, and if she doesn’t, she acts like she does. We’ve been through so much together, from leaving a permanent yellow stain on the sidewalk in front of her house from tie-dying in kindergarten, to make-overs in the dark with her cousins, which left her aunt’s bathtub a tint of pink from the lipstick that fell in it. We’d walk around her neighborhood and mine for hours on end since we weren’t old enough to drive and didn’t want to be stuck in the house. We’ve been to too many concerts, football games and parties together to remember them all. I basically live at her house, her parent’s treat me like I’m their child and her brothers are pretty much my brothers too. I know I can talk to her about anything and everything, and that I’ll be here no matter what. She’s my best friend, my sister and hopefully always will be.

In the summer before 9th grade, I tried out for the High School Volleyball team. I’ve played volleyball since I was in 5th grade. I went into the try-out with my mind set on making the varsity team, well luckily for me, I did. Everyone made a much bigger deal about it than I had ever thought it would be. I got asked if I was really a freshman more times than I care to remember, I even had a whole article written about me in the paper. I even remember talking to the reporter right before our first game;
“How do you think your season will play out from what you’ve seen in your practices?” he asked, placing his pencil on the yellow note pad, almost like he was about to write a novel. The fact that he only lost eye contact when he had to write down what I said scared me a little. My coach told me before the interview to remember that this will be in the paper for everyone to see, to think about my responses and to not say anything that I wouldn’t want everyone to see. That didn’t help my anxiety. Not only did I have the first game jitters but now I had the pressure of saying all the right things to a news reporter. Turns out I “did great” according to Coach, but I still had my doubts. Although the season consisted of a lot of ups and downs, I met a lot of great people and it was a truly amazing experience.