|The Perfect Song
Author: Sofia-Puffergirl PM
So we had to right a different ending to Summer of My German Soldier, and this is what I got. I liked the way mine ended though, yes, it's another analogy.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Words: 603 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 03-03-10 - Status: Complete - id: 5790410
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Yes, there was time to spare. There was always time to spare. Even if you are incredibly late, you will arrive with time to spare. Time to spare on walking slow, to catch your breath, or get a drink of water. People always find time to spare.
So to me, it doesn't matter that my people should have arrived an hour ago and are only elongating my sentence. Because when they get here, there will be no rush to get me out of here, because there is still time to spare!
If there were a way to enjoy this little, and probably last, time to my self I would have found it. I didn't want to go in a day dream, those hurt too much to be snapped out of. So anything that could take my mind off itself would have been great!. There was nothing to be found.
Despite my efforts to control it, my imagination took over my senses. Starting with a memory. One of the most painful, Ruth walking away from me, several months. I knew that hole would be filled soon. But should I try to? I know she wants me to grow-up and make something of myself but that doesn't mean I have to leave her out of my life right?
What would I be when I grew up? I didn't have long to ponder this. I saw a familiar car drive up. And my father stepped out. A displeased look on his face. Like I had assumed he looked like he was in a rush. Not a real one but one where he just didn't want to be here. But instead of trying to get things done quickly he insisted on walking slow and being proper. Always time to spare.
It took a whole 'nother hour to till we got to the point where we were putting bags in the car. The drive was quite. Neither mother nor father looked at me, or Sharon in fear of seeing my face. But Sharon herself looked quite pleased I was back.
Weeks had passed.
So had Months.
We held a small celebratory dinner for the year I turned 17.
We had a huge party for the year I turned 18.
I did it. I survived the horrible years that took up my childhood. With enough money to go just about anywhere I began to pack my things. The only person in the house that seemed mildly upset was Sharon. But she hadn't seen our parents this happy. Probably ever.
While walking through the store one day, when I was coming in on 21, I saw a sign that said: Life is like a piano, what you get out of it depends on how you play it. After debating for a minute I decided this was most likely true and bought the glass trinket. I couldn't help thinking about it even more as I continued on to the drive back to my house, close to the college I attended. In the begging of my life I had many wrong keys pressed. But at the time I was just learning. Mistakes were forgiven. As I grew mistakes were less expected from me, and when I made them it was trouble. But I know, I know enough now that I might be able to live my life without pressing another wrong key. Not out of fear but out of experience would I prepare myself to not make another mistake. With that in mind I was absolutely determined to play the perfect song.