• Rememberance
    Remembrance

    By Niari Henemaru


    Remembrance

    That day was the worst day of my life. I lost a sister, and a dear friend.
    My sister and I were walking home; we were only a block away from home as our middle school bus pulled away from Underwood Park. The middle of May, or to be clearer, it was May 28th.
    We were walking past the park and threw trees of many colors and kinds. I was reading my book until a clear voice called out,” Hurry up Lindsey!" It was Nicky, my sister. She looked very pretty that day, her brown hair tied in a bun, she was wearing a white tank top, blue shorts and yellow flip flops. And her eyes were hazel. They were always so calm and somewhat, hypnotizing.
    "Nicky, would you calm down? We are almost home, we won't be late, I promise," I said as I was putting my school book into my backpack. It was my sister's birthday, and she had plans with her friends and a surprise party was coming from them later.
    We walked up the street farther, past the neighbor's house, and their flower garden. I was in my skirt and white shirt. My sister was older than me, only by a year. She was in eighth grade, and I seventh, and she was pretty nervous about high school.
    As I pulled my hair back with a hair tie, my sister was talking to me about her plans for her party. I pushed my blonde hair back I told her that it sounded like fun. We reached the corner of a busy street and to get home, we had to cross it. Ino pushed the metal crosswalk button and then we waited for several minutes. A moment later, when everything was clear, we decided to cross.
    Walking side-by-side we were almost to the second lane as we heard a screeching coming from down the street. A black Volvo came toward us, picking up speed on the way. “Lindsey! Get out of the way!" Nicky cried out many times. But I remained still, frozen with fear I suppose. Then I felt a sharp pain in my side, realizing that Nicky had pushed me. I turned around, still scared; I tried to grab her hand. I scanned her face, wondering why she didn't grab my hand. Her hazel eyes stared at me, filled with tears, but as calm as ever, then, she smiled at me.
    I saw a blur of black paint from the Volvo smear with red. This all happened in an instant. My green eyes filled with tears as I saw that the car stopped at the other side of the intersection, and I felt myself running toward it, screaming Nicky's name out. I ran past the broken down Volvo. Quickly glancing inside the side window, a saw the man who was driving, with his head bleeding and bobbing to his right side.
    As I came to the front of the car I quickly glanced around. Nicky's school things were scattered everywhere. From her blue backpack, ripped in half, and her party invitations scattered everywhere around her. I threw my things to the side when I reached her side. Even if she was breathing hard, she still wore that smile she gave me, the one that she always wore, no matter what.
    She was missing her right arm and her head was bleeding very badly. Her hair had gone out of the bun half way and her eyes were barely open. Then she whispered to me. I kneeled down to hear her and she told me," Lindsey, please, be more careful." I started bawling. I grabbed out my cell phone and dialed my dad's number.
    I looked down at my sister. I tossed the phone to the side and hugged her for every second I could possibly could. My dad was on the other line," Lindsey? Nicky? Hello? Lindsey?" Still holding my sister with one arm, I reached for my blood spattered phone and said," Dad? Please hurry home. It’s Nicky, Dad, she’s....dead."
    That was last year, exactly last year. It is once again May 28th.
    It was Nicky's birthday, her death day, and Memorial Day. My family; my mother and father, were standing around Nicky's grave. I was standing by a near by tree, watching my parents place their gifts. My mother leaned down to place Nicky's favorite flower, a rose, by her grave. Then my dad stared at the stone for a moment, and slowly walked to the car, staring out the window. My mother got up, dusted off her Sunday dress, and walked over to me. She briefly hugged me and half dragged herself to the car.
    I walked up to the ivory colored grave. I placed the picture I was going to give her for her birthday last year, a pretty rose. I bent down to get on my knees to touch the stone. I slowly traced the outside of her name, as it started to rain. The stone was smooth and cold against my shaking hands. I read the words carved on the stone over and over. And to this day, I still remember the words:
    In Remembrance of
    Nicky Park,
    A loving daughter, sister and friend.
    Nicky Park will be missed by all.