CNF-"Creation Story"

Kathy met Jack when she was seventeen. She was in her junior year, attending Hawthorne High School, Jack already graduated.

            “Do you want a ride?”  Jack asks Kathy.

            “Sure,” says Kathy.

            That started the relationship between them. Kathy and Jack fell in love. They did everything together, went out to dinner, and went to the movies, cruised through the town.  

            “Will you marry me?” Jack asks Kathy, while bending on one knee.

            “Yes!” Kathy exclaims embracing Jack in a hug.

            The summer after Kathy graduated high school, her and Jack got married. Kathy and Jack were as happy as could be, even though Kathy’s parents didn’t approve. Jack and Kathy were happily married.

            “What could be better?” Kathy thought while sitting on her porch.

            Kathy received the answer to this question, a baby. Kathy told Jack the news of her pregnancy, and both of them were excited. Nine months later, a beautiful baby girl named Colleen was born. Everything was perfect, until Kathy received the news.

            “Honey, I have to go back to the army,” Jack told Kathy, a sad look on his face.

            What? How could this be happening? Kathy wondered why this was happening.

            “I’ll write to you everyday. Don’t worry sweetie,” Jack told Kathy.

            Jack kept his promise and wrote one letter to Kathy everyday. The letters were comforting to Kathy. She knew he was safe, and he knew Kathy and Colleen were safe.

            “That’s odd, there should be a letter,” Kathy said as she checked the mailbox one more time. But, no letter came. The next day nothing came, this pattern continued, and Kathy became worried.

            “Is he dead?’ Kathy stayed up at night thinking.

            Kathy wrote to Jack everyday, but he never replied back.

            “Shoot, the car won’t start,” Kathy said.

A man named Vince, a friend of a friend of her and Jack’s replied, “I’ll fix it for you.”

So, keeping his word, Vince came the next day.

“I’ll fix your car, if you make me lunch, you won’t have to pay me,” Vince told Kathy.

“Ok, Let me go to the store,” Kathy replied.

Kathy went to the store, with practically no money and bought a few things. When Kathy returned home, Vince was waiting in her kitchen.

“What are you going to cook?’ Vince asked.

“I told you I had to go to the store,” Kathy replied.

“You have no money. How are you going to feed yourself and your baby?” Vince asked.

Kathy had no response. Vince went to the store, and when he came back he had more groceries then what would fit in the cupboards and fridge. This started the friendship between them. Vince made this a routine to buy her groceries.

Realizing that Jack didn’t care and abandoned her and Colleen, she decided to serve him divorce papers. Something surprising happened after she did.

BANG, BANG, BANG! A loud knock pounded the door. Kathy opened it and received a shock. There, standing in the doorway was Jack.

“What are you-“

“DIVORCE PAPERS?!” Jack yelled.

“You abandoned me and Colleen,” Kathy replied.

So, Jack and Kathy got a divorce. Then, Kathy married Vince. A little while later, Kathy delivered a beautiful baby girl named Jennifer.

TWENTY-THREE YEARS LATER……………

Jennifer, now twenty-three, was married to Marc. Marc and Jennifer had a son named Austin. Jennifer delivered a baby girl named Abagail.

           

            

CNF-"Sloppy"

At first glance, this room looks like a tornado tore through it. Clothes are strewn everywhere, carelessly tossed here and there. The bed is unmade, the sheets and pillows are just scattered all over the bed.

Who lives like this?

The owner of the messy room stepped into the doorway.  She hesitantly enters the room. I look at her appearance, t-shirt with a stain on it, jeans with the bottom of one leg rolled up in that annoying accidental way. The girl’s shoelaces were untied, in fact, she was stepping on them, and her hair was thrown into a messy bun/ponytail up do. She had a frantic look in her eyes. This was the girl I was supposed to be interviewing. Oh boy!

“He, he, hello…” the girl’s voice quivers.

“My name is…” she stutters.

“Sally, my name is Sally.” The girl finally creates a sentence without stumbling through the words.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” I reply.

Sally’s eyes were scanning the room as if she was trying to find something.

“Ok, let’s get this started,” I announce.

We arrive at Sally’s school, and then enter her first period. Sally sits in her chair, and I take the one next to her.

“Hello class,” Sally’s teacher says.

Sally gets out her binder. Her binder is a disaster. Papers are shoved in not even put in the rings, the binder was overflowing. The binder looked like she had every single assignment she ever did stored in there.

I interview her teacher, Mr. Fezland, “What kind of student is Sally?”

“Sally…she’s a mess, honestly. She always comes to school frazzled. Her handwriting is atrocious.”

“RING, RING, RING!” the bell to end class rings, breaking the newly formed silence.

My eyes drift over to Sally. She shoves her papers and pen into her binder, creating more clutter. She then proceeds to shove her binder into her backpack. She rushes out of the room. I stop and talk to a girl from her class.

“Hey, I’m interviewing Sally and I would like to get your thoughts.” “So, what do you think of Sally?’ I question the girl.

“Sally is unfocused. She keeps to herself. Sometimes it seems like she doesn’t really care about things that much,” the girl replies.

“Sally, hey wait up!” I shout trying to get her attention.

“Are you okay?” I ask her.

“I’m fine,” she replies.

“I just don’t like school, and I want it to be over.” she adds.

I sit down on a nearby bench, and motion for her to do the same.

“Tell me the truth, what’s wrong?” I ask her kindly.

“Well, I don’t get along well with people at this school. They are all neat and organized, and I’m not. I’m sloppy, there I said it. People are just rude because I’m sloppy. They treat me like I’m nothing.” Sally confides in me.

“Well, I wont treat you like that. Yeah you’re sloppy but whatever, who cares.” I tell Sally.

Sally heads back to her next class, and I start my story.

  

CNF-"Nothing"

"What are you doing?" my mom asks, curiosity filling her voice.
"Nothing..." I reply, trying to keep my voice level.
Its not that I'm trying to hide what I'm doing, I just don't want to get into a long, drawn out conversation, filled with "Well, why are you doing that?" and "You should be doing this instead."
My "nothing" is thinking. What am I thinking of? People, mainly my family and friends. What are they doing? Are they laughing, crying, sleeping, learning? What are they thinking of? Are they thinking of me? This "nothing", my "nothing" makes total sense. I am a conscious person. I'm constantly thinking of others. I like to know if my family and friends are healthy and safe. I guess I care too much. So, its no surprise that I tell people I'm doing nothing, holding more things in.
Sometimes, I just want to be by myself, keep things to myself. I don't tell people I'm upset. Instead, I let things build up inside of me. I reply with my standard, "I'm fine. My day was good." That's my go to answer. The answer I use to keep the peace. Why don't I the truth, tell people what's going on? I guess I don't want people to worry. I don't want to add more stress to their already too busy lives. I don't want people to think that anything is wrong with me. I don't want to be thought of as a charity case, the object of gossip. I don't want to upset people. So, what do I do? Yep, you guessed it, I keep things to myself. Everyday, I try to keep up the perfect facade. If I look okay on the outside, then surely people will think everything is okay on the inside. Only people who truly know me, know when I'm upset. They know to look at my eyes. When I'm happy, really having a good day, my eyes will twinkle like diamonds. When I'm upset, and try to cover it up by saying I'm fine, my eyes will look dull, expressionless. I don't like keeping things inside. I know that secrets can hurt. But, sometimes the truth hurts much more.
"Abby, how are you? How was your day?" my mom asks, her hand touching my shoulder.
"I'm fine. My day was good." I reply, my eyes not meeting hers, while wanting to tell her so much more.

CNF-"Summer Days"

In the summer, my days are filled with lounging by the pool and sipping freshly squeezed lemonade, not a care in the world.

             “Honey, you need to get a job,” my dad informs me in an oddly chipper voice, smiling brightly.

            “BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!” my alarm clock shrieks.

            “Time for work, oh joy,” I grumble.

            I pull up to Yummy Oh’s Pizza, the place where my days will be spent. A comforting sensation engulfs me. “Hi, I’m Jane,” I announce.

            “Hi, I’m Eduardo, your boss.”

            I’m instantly thrown into the madness of work. Some people demanded their pizzas. Some people were picky about toppings. It drove me insane. But, I liked working. It made me feel important and responsible. I also like the idea of having my own money, and not having to bother my parents. Working made me feel like I mattered. Working was the best part of summer. 

            

CNF-Scarecrow Tostada Food Review

I remember the first time I tried a scarecrow tostada. It was Halloween 2010. I thought it was going to taste like an average tostada. Turns out, I was very wrong.
The scarecrow tostada tasted amazing, juicy clices of tomato were created into a scarecrow nose, a "scarecrow hat", which was really a tortilla chip, crunchy, balanced the flavor of the tomato. The ground beef "face" was flavored with spices. The lettuce "hair" was crispy and fresh. Shiny black olives posed as eyes. Red bell peppers were delicately placed as a mouth. Holding the face together was a crunchy tostada shell. Each ingredient complemented each other perfectly. In a world filled with basic, boring dinners, the scarecrow tostadas had style.
The spirit of Halloween was ringing through the Freire household. My mom, always willing to try something new, was in love with the idea of everyday recipes resembling Halloween objects.  As I walked into the kitchen, I felt like I was stepping into an alternative world, a world that was all Halloween. Halloween music, containing witch cackles and coyote calls, was blaring from the nearby stereo. The wonderful aroma of dinner punctuated the air. The lights were dimmed, in an attempt to create a "scary" Halloween ambiance. My mom was creating the scarecrows with a grand smile stretching across her face.
"How do they look?" my mom asked me, hesitation creeping into her voice.
"They look cute!" I reassure her.
"I hope so...I am determined to make them look as best as possible," she replies, her confidence coming back in every word she spoke.
My family and I sit down at the too crowded dinner table; our chairs are saviors to our tired bodies. My mom serves us our scarecrow tostadas.
Excited smile plastered on her face, she says, "Enjoy your spooky dinner!"
I study my dinner, my plate consists of a scarecrow tostada and a side of Spanish rice, which my mom named "witch throw up". Doesn't that sound delicious? I dive into my dinner, each flavor satisfying my taste buds. Tomato, lettuce, olives, ground beef, tortilla chip, and tostada shell tasted just as good as the first time I tired it. But, I noticed something was different. There was something that was added to these tostadas that wasn't in the original tostadas. Cheese. I asked my mom why she added cheese to these tostadas.
"I wanted to make these different than the first ones we ate. Just to shake things up!" she replied.
The cheese was named "hair highlights". I quickly decided that these scarecrow tostadas were more amazing than the tostadas I tried last year. Scarecrow tostadas became a family favorite. I will be excited to eat them again next Halloween season.

CNF-Scarecrow Tostada Food Review

I remember the first time I tried a scarecrow tostada. It was Halloween 2010. I thought it was going to taste like an average tostada. Turns out, I was very wrong.
The scarecrow tostada tasted amazing, juicy clices of tomato were created into a scarecrow nose, a "scarecrow hat", which was really a tortilla chip, crunchy, balanced the flavor of the tomato. The ground beef "face" was flavored with spices. The lettuce "hair" was crispy and fresh. Shiny black olives posed as eyes. Red bell peppers were delicately placed as a mouth. Holding the face together was a crunchy tostada shell. Each ingredient complemented each other perfectly. In a world filled with basic, boring dinners, the scarecrow tostadas had style.
The spirit of Halloween was ringing through the Freire household. My mom, always willing to try something new, was in love with the idea of everyday recipes resembling Halloween objects.  As I walked into the kitchen, I felt like I was stepping into an alternative world, a world that was all Halloween. Halloween music, containing witch cackles and coyote calls, was blaring from the nearby stereo. The wonderful aroma of dinner punctuated the air. The lights were dimmed, in an attempt to create a "scary" Halloween ambiance. My mom was creating the scarecrows with a grand smile stretching across her face.
"How do they look?" my mom asked me, hesitation creeping into her voice.
"They look cute!" I reassure her.
"I hope so...I am determined to make them look as best as possible," she replies, her confidence coming back in every word she spoke.
My family and I sit down at the too crowded dinner table; our chairs are saviors to our tired bodies. My mom serves us our scarecrow tostadas.
Excited smile plastered on her face, she says, "Enjoy your spooky dinner!"
I study my dinner, my plate consists of a scarecrow tostada and a side of Spanish rice, which my mom named "witch throw up". Doesn't that sound delicious? I dive into my dinner, each flavor satisfying my taste buds. Tomato, lettuce, olives, ground beef, tortilla chip, and tostada shell tasted just as good as the first time I tired it. But, I noticed something was different. There was something that was added to these tostadas that wasn't in the original tostadas. Cheese. I asked my mom why she added cheese to these tostadas.
"I wanted to make these different than the first ones we ate. Just to shake things up!" she replied.
The cheese was named "hair highlights". I quickly decided that these scarecrow tostadas were more amazing than the tostadas I tried last year. Scarecrow tostadas became a family favorite. I will be excited to eat them again next Halloween season.

CNF-Adam

Adam; curious, playful, smart, cute, my four - year old brother. I look at him in this photograph. He’s squatting, his eyes are meticulously studying a miniscule ladybug. The look on his face is a mixture of wonder and amazement. He is one with the world, no worries, no sadness, nothing bothering him, just him and the ladybug. While I look at this picture, I start to think about the day he was born. Clouds filled the February night sky, the rain pounded the pavement. Adam was swaddled in a hospital-issued blanket, his head shielded by the matching beanie. I remember holding him for the first time, his gentle body protected by my arms. He looked up at me with innocent eyes, our eyes making an everlasting connection. He had the same curious expression as the one in the ladybug picture. I remember the first time he said my name, his beautiful voice filling my ears with joy.

            Would Adam understand that he didn’t get to see me everyday? Would he understand that I would be shared between my two separate families? Would he get confused when I said mom, and I wasn’t talking about his mom? Would he understand the concept of divorce, considering that he wasn’t a divorce victim? I remember feeling envious of him. Why did he have the perfect parents that actually stayed together? Why did I have to have the divorced parents? Would Adam understand that I’m only his half sister? Would I have the courage to tell him this?

             I remember Adam’s first birthday. I remember thinking I cant believe he’s already one. He already achieved so much in his first year.  I remember his first smile, toothless, and from ear to ear. His first laugh sounded like the twinkling of bells. His first wobbly steps on Christmas morning. Then Adam turned two, he was so interested in Cars, that we threw him a cars birthday party. I remember the excitement that spread across his face every time he opened a present. By his third year, he was still fascinated with cars. But, his interests were still growing. By his fourth birthday, Adam became intrigued with fireman. He called himself a fireman. I remember the first time he said fireman, it came out as “Wee-oo fire man.”

 I remember the tears that streamed down my face on his first day of preschool. I couldn’t believe he was already starting school. The time seemed to fly by.  I remember watching The Lion King with Adam. He was snuggled up to me. I was happy to share this movie from my childhood with him. I look at this picture and a wave of pride washes over me. Adam’s not a little boy anymore. He’s growing up everyday. He’s always going to be curious and want to learn new things. I will always be there for him. When life gets tough, he knows that I will comfort him. To me, he will always be that curious little boy. I love you Adam.