Jane Christensen, OWP 1998

 

"It's not fair! I never get to do anything fun! I do all the work! I hate you!"

I bolted to my bedroom, slammed the door, and flopped on my bed. My Siamese cat, Smokey, nuzzled up to me, craving some attention. He was my life-long pet. He was older than I, wiser, too, as far as I was concerned. Lately, people were revolving through my life. Once upon a time, my life was as delightful as a summer breeze. Now, I felt lost in a blizzard.

When my dad moved out, my mom tried to commit suicide, and my relationships with guys were failing miserably. Our family kept our feelings hidden most of the time. Frustrations were beginning to strain every seam of my being. Emotion shook my body.

"Smokey, I want to help Mom, but I want so much to have my life back. Why did Dad have to change everything?"

Only Smokey seemed to understand my frustrations as I fought to hold on to my carefree life. I knew in my heart that my mom needed me more than ever. Right now, her world was even scarier than mine. Here I was, a teenager, in the middle of my parent's divorce, being expected to co-parent my younger brothers and sister, and stumble through puberty all at the same time.

Purring warmly, Smokey lay on my chest; looking intently at my tear-stained face. He was always so patient, loving, and "there for me." I looked at his piercing eyes and saw a tiny, tear roll out of one eye. I could hardly believe what I saw. I hugged him tightly; his wet nose and tear brushing against my cheek. He and I were more than friends. We were kindred spirits. I'll never forget his support on that day and the rare way he communicated his love for me.