He reaches over to the edge of his desk and adjusts the camera one final time before hitting the record button. The screen flickers to life.

Hey! It’s me, Joseph R. Goodwin, and this is my video diary of my first day at my new job.

It’s been my experience that the first day is the most important day of any new job. For those who are lucky enough to survive that grueling first day, the rest is just cashing a paycheck, if you know what I mean.

The first day is important because it’s the day you watch other people and learn those ‘unwritten’ rules of the place. Like that job I had at that car painting place. I mean, the car was going to get painted anyway, so I didn’t see what a big deal it was to scratch the paint a little. I mean, my art was beautiful. That’s the best nekkid chick drawing I’ve ever done. And doing it with my keys into the hood of that Honda wasn’t easy.

But, I guess signing it wasn’t the best of ideas.

That’s what I mean about those ‘unwritten’ rules.

Brrriiinnnngg, brrriiinnnngg

Don’t worry about the phone. It must be a wrong number, who’s gonna call me here?

Anyway, another thing to remember on your first day is that even though you’re observing and learning those unwritten rules, you can just hang out and do nothing. They expect you to participate, even if you don’t know what you’re doing.

My first day at that restaurant was like that. I’ve never worked in the food industry before so I thought I should take notes. Every time someone told me how to do something, I wrote it down. They saw me writing it down. I still don’t understand why they got so mad at me. Yelling “get the fire extinguisher” over and over seemed important, so I wrote it down…and continued to observe. I didn’t want to get anything wrong.

But, it’s hard to go to work that second day when there’s no building to go to.

Brrriiinnnngg, brrriiinnnngg

Hold on, let me answer that.

Hello? Dude, you’ve got the wrong number. This phone was just issued to me today.

What? Dude! Take a pill! Ya looser!

Slam

What a tool. I hope he doesn’t call back. Now where was I?

Oh, yea. My first day.

Well, this is my first day at this job. I think I’ve finally found my calling in life. It’s gonna be so

Brrriiinnnngg, brrriiinnnngg

Holy Toledo! What’s up with this damn phone?

Hello? Dude, you’ve seriously got the wrong number! You’ve gotta jump off, dude.

Slam

I swear! Whoever had this phone number last obviously didn’t tell his loser friends that he no longer works here. I bet he got canned.

So, as I was saying – On my first day I….oh, dude…here comes the boss.

Hey, boss man! How’s it hanging?

….

Yea, I’ve noticed the phone ringing. It’s been bugging the hell out of me all day. Whoever worked here last must have taken a ton of private calls. But not me! You’ll never see me on the phone.

…..

What? Call center? Oh, yea. I knew that. I meant you won’t see me taking private calls on the phone.

….

Script? What script? You mean I just can’t answer with ‘Hello’? Dude, that blows.

….

Yea, I want to keep this job. I’m made for this job.

….

Ok. I will. Later dude.

Wow, that was close. First day at work and I’ve already pissed off the boss.

Brrriiinnnngg, brrriiinnnngg

Crap. Where’s that script? Maybe if I don’t answer it, he will hang up.

Brrriiinnnngg, brrriiinnnngg

Brrriiinnnngg, brrri…

Whew. That was a close one.

Oh, no. Not the boss man again.

Hey Boss. What’s ha…

….

Um, they hung up

…..

Well, I was looking for my script and …

….

Oh, there. Thanks.

…

Last chance? You mean I may get fired? Dude. That seriously sucks.

…

Ok. Dude. I promise.

Brrriiinnnngg, brrriiinnnngg

Suicide Prevention Hotline. How may I help you?

Today is the first day of my death. Philosophers are fond of pointing out that we start the process of dying the day we are born, but those philosophers never heard a doctor utter the words ‘advanced adenocarcinoma of the pancreas.’ In layman’s terms, I am dying, and soon. Months, if I’m lucky.

I left the clinic and entered a surreal landscape of human automatons going about their daily lives as if time was a limitless resource. I drove past the dry cleaners. I wanted to roll down the window and shout, “Who cares if your shirts are clean? Go home!”

The blossoms of the flowering cherries lining the boulevard danced in the breeze and sent a fluttering of confetti swirling along the pavement when the cars drove by. I glanced up and saw a billboard of the insurance caveman. I smiled for a moment, but then my hands began to tremble. Tears filled my eyes and I pulled to the curb, unable to continue. Heaving sobs wracked my body and I collapsed onto the steering wheel.

I cried because I would never see the next edition of my favorite ad campaign. I cried even harder because I was shedding tears over something so trivial. The Great Pyramids, Angkor Wat, Angel Falls, the Great Wall; these are objects worthy of regret when your life is cut short before you can experience them. But a caveman and a lizard? How pathetic.

I dabbed my eyes dry and pulled back into traffic. How bright all of the colors looked! Vital life oozed from every tree and shrub, every building and door, every rock and sidewalk! The air smelled cleaner; the sun shone warmer; the very skin on my body seemed alive in a way that it never had before.

How many times had I eaten at that restaurant? Would I ever eat there again? Was it worthy of serving one of my remaining meals? Questions tumbled in and out of my head with a machinegun rapidity that was mind numbing. Should I quit my job? How long would I be well enough to travel? Long enough for the Pyramids? For the Great Wall?

I pulled into the driveway of my freshly painted house. A new paint job: that was eight thousand dollars down the drain; eight thousand dollars that wouldn’t be spent cramming the dreams of a life into a few wretched weeks.

I walked through the house and into the back yard. I picked up the hose out of habit and started watering the seedlings in my vegetable garden. Their twinned green leaves, poking through the soil and into the light, taunted me with their boundless hope. I discarded the hose and dropped to my knees. I reached my hands into the dank earth and ripped them out, throwing their tiny bodies into a heap where the sun could wither them away. Who would be here to enjoy this harvest? Not me! If not me, then what was the point?

I had crawled half way down the row, destroying what I had so painstakingly started two weeks before, when the sobbing took root again. I collapsed face-first into the mud and then curled into a ball. The sweet smell of loam filled my head. Droplets of water clinging to sprigs of butter and bib lettuce sparkled in the sun, dazzling my eyes.

Today is the first day of my death. If this despair is all that remains will the end come soon enough?

“Chris, are you OK?” My neighbor’s head appeared above the fence.

I looked up, embarrassed.

“It’s nothing, Pat. Just a rough day is all,” I lied. I climbed to my feet and tried to brush the wet soil from my face and arms, but succeeded only in smearing the mud.

Pat came into the yard and sat at the patio table while I shuffled over and took a seat. Pat leaned in close and took both my hands.

“What is it?”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath; then another.

“I’m dying, Pat. Two months, maybe three.”

Pat’s gripped tightened on my hands. We sat in silence for many minutes.

“Well, Chris, I can’t imagine what must be going through your head right now. But ask yourself this one question: Do you want to spend your last days dying, or do you want to spend them living?”

The sun crept lower in the sky while more precious minutes trickled by. I looked over at the wreck that had been my garden. I pulled my hands free and stood up, holding myself up high and looking around my world.

“Today, Pat, I choose to live. Today is the first day I choose to be fully alive.”

--------------------------------------------

Author’s note: For those outside the U.S., this advertising character played a very minor role in this story. You probably don’t need to watch the 30 second video, but it will put that scene in better context.

It was the devil’s first day in hell. He looked at his new realm, and just shook his head. One of his new minions, Binkman, arrived at his side.

“Did you have a pleasant trip sir?”, Binkman asked.

“Yeah, right”, the devil said. “And you would be?”

“Your loyal servant, Binkman, head nightmare”, Binkman said.

“I didn’t think this place was about loyalty”, the devil observed.

“Just a saying sir. So how did you get roped into this gig?”, asked Binkman.

“Let’s just say you should never bet against a celestial being drawing to an inside royal straight flush, even if you are holding the card it needs”, the devil replied.

“You mean it cheated?”, Binkman said, astounded.

“One would be wise to never accuse the supreme being of that. There are worse places than here you know", the devil pointed out.

“Such as?”, asked Binkman.

“Bayonne New Jersey for starters”, the devil observed.

Binkman shuddered at the thought. “Would you like the grand tour of the place sir?”, he asked.

“Why not?”, the devil shrugged.

“Well over here, we have the boiling pits of lava, over to the right are the stones you have to roll up the hill, and never make it, and on our left are the torture racks”, Binkman said.

“Cute and this room?”, the devil asked, opening the door. There were a large number of people standing around drinking coffee, and knee deep in raw sewage. “Never mind, I have heard that joke already”, the devil observed. “Is that it?”.

“Yes sir. All the damned serve their sentence through eternity in one of these rooms”, Binkman said.

“Not very creative”, mused the devil. “OK, so do we have any new souls to process today?”.

“Yes sir”, said Binkman.

The devil sat on his throne after clearing out the rats, old bones, and other annoyances.

“So who is this first contestant?”, the devil asked, looking at the balding, potato shaped man in front of him.

“Well sir, he was a CEO of a major organization. He sold his stock while telling his employees to buy it. His excuse was he needed the money to live the lifestyle to which he was accustomed”, Binkman said.

“Interesting” said the devil. “And the books?”, he asked.

“Totally and completely cooked. You wouldn’t believe the off balance sheet activity”, Binkman responded.

“Hmmm...”, mused the devil. “And what did my predecessor do with cases like these?”.

“Usually the rock rolling up the hill bit sir”, Binkman said.

The devil thought. “Do we have any accountants down here?”, he asked.

“We have whole firms. We usually prod them with red hot pokers and pitchforks”, Binkman said.

“Bring me two dozen of them”, the devil said.

The requested accountants were retrieved, and brought before the devil.

“Gentlemen, I have a new chore for you”, he said.

“Anything beats what we were doing”, mumbled one.

“Mr. CEO, you are about to undergo the world’s longest Sarbanes-Oxley audit. Poetic justice you know, you were the main reason for them. The audit will take roughly through eternity, and these gentlemen are in charge of it. You will be answering all their questions”.

The CEO was led out in tears, the auditors followed like a pack of ravenous wolves.

“That was justice for him, but what about the auditors? They are supposed to be punished too”, remarked Binkman.

“They haven’t seen the books yet. 3..2..1", the devil said. There was the sound of anguished screaming coming from the audit room. The devil just smiled. “Any other new arrivals?”, he asked.

“Yes, Kurt Vonnegut”, the minion replied.

“Vonnegut?”, what is HE doing here?”, the devil asked, dumbfounded.

“Volunteer. He was admitted to heaven, it bored him to death after two days, and he asked for a transfer. He felt he would be more at home here”, Binkman said.

“Bring him in”, the devil shrugged. “Oh, and I want the most straight laced, fiefdom unto himself English professor we have to be brought to me.

Binkman left to do the devil’s bidding.

“Kurt, glad to finally meet you”, said the Devil. “And you must be the English Professor”, he said to a man with a tweed coat, drinking a cup of coffee, and covered in... well, covered.

“Well professor, here is the deal. You get a ticket out of here... when”, the devil said.

“Yes?”, asked the professor eagerly.

“You can prove to me you actually do understand what this man wrote”.

The professor looked crestfallen. “That could take forever”, he said.

“You taught a course in him you know”, the devil reminded.

Vonnegut put an arm around the English Professor’s shoulders. “Let’s start with Slaughterhouse-Five”, he suggested.

The professor just moaned.

Where ever you landed will become a more interesting place Kurt. We will miss you.

I look in the mirror at my face; I can’t believe this bloody spot decided to show up today. Why do they always come when you could really do without it? Maybe they have a secret radar for special events, when they are least wanted.

Today I was asked on a date by Mark Trewern. I couldn’t believe it. I had been flirting with him for ages I thought he was just having me on, but then today, he walks up to me in the library and asked me to go to the pictures.

Now look at me. I’m like a monster with this big thing on my face. Mum let me borrow some concealer, although she said it wasn’t that bad and I shouldn’t worry about it. Yeah right.

I finish getting ready and head for the door.

Here goes nothing.

***

“Mum, stop it, its fine”

Goodness, you’d think it was her getting married today the way she’s going on. I pour her a glass of champagne and tell her to go and calm down. This is my big day and I’m going to enjoy it.

This is the happiest day of my life. I am about to marry my high school sweetheart. Since our first date we have been inseparable.

I look out the window as the car pulls up. I feel my stomach turning. I know this is a wonderful thing but I still feel a bit scared. There are so many things that could go wrong. What if he doesn’t show up? What if the wedding car breaks down? What if mum gets drunk and runs off with the best man? What if Mark gets too drunk and runs off with the bridesmaid?

***

“Can you smell it?” I ask my husband.

The smell when you enter a new house. I have smelt it many times before but this time it’s so much sweeter. This time I am hand in hand with the love of my life, standing in our first home.

We moved around a lot when I was a child, I grew accustomed to the smell, but this was different, because this was my house. I studied the walls, pictures coming to mind of all the colours and decorations, the furniture, the curtains, the carpets. I can hardly finish developing an idea in my head before another springs to mind.

Mark looks at me with a sly grin on his face

“What on earth are you doing” he says. “Your eyes are darting around and you keep nodding your head”

I hadn’t even realised I’d been doing it. I was so enthralled by this great sight, and the overwhelming feeling of belonging and owning.

I turn and kiss my husband. “I am so glad to be sharing this with you”

***

“Ooh-Ooh-Ooh, Mark you have to come home, she’s on the way”

I hang up the phone. Pain searing through my back and my stomach. You know, people tell you it’s painful but I thought they were over reacting. Turns out, they weren’t.

Mark arrives and helps me into the car. I lie on the back seat all the way to the hospital. I can’t imagine why, I just assumed it might ease the pain. I was wrong.

I get to the ward and the midwife takes me straight to the delivery room. She said it would be a quick one. Not quick enough I thought. The Midwife gives me a mask to suck on. Gas and Air she calls it. I take a deep lungful of the stuff and lie back, relaxed. Then suddenly it dawns on me. We didn’t bring any clothes for her when she arrives; we left the house in such a hurry we forgot the bag with the baby clothes. Oh god. I’m a terrible mother and she’s not even here yet. The poor little thing doesn’t stand a chance. I start to cry.

“I can’t do it, I can’t do it”

“The poor little thing doesn’t stand a chance. I start to cry.

“I can’t do it, I can’t do it”

“Yes you bloody well can” said Mark. “She is coming out and she is going to love you and you are going to love her and we are going to be the happiest family in the world. She is going to be the luckiest child ever, to have a mother like you. I love you so much”

And so she came. She was beautiful. And everything mark said was true. She loves me, I love her, She loves him, He loves her, I love him and He loves me. And we are the happiest family ever.

No matter how scary a first can be nothing good will happens without them.

It was the big day. Peter Rabbit could just feel it. All those nights slaving away at the toy factory were about to pay off. Low pay, long hours, lousy climate, they could all end today.

He arrived at work, and was immediately ushered into the big guy’s office. Santa sat behind the desk, and motioned Peter to have a seat.

“You called me sir?”, Peter said, barely able to keep the excitement out of his voice.

“Ho ho ho, that I have”, Santa said, jovially. “We have a new position for you Peter, it has been decided to give you your own holiday”.

This was even better than Peter had hoped for. He was expected to be named elf foreman, ahead of Stinky Elf. He never even dreamed it was about his own holiday. “What is it called sir?” he asked.

Santa opened a folder. “The holiday is called Easter, and you are starting from scratch. Nothing is set for it, except it happens in the Spring, and involves finding colored eggs. Oh yes, and chocolate is involved, as usual. We can’t seem to have a holiday without it”.

“Eggs?”, said Peter, confused. “Where am I supposed to get eggs from?”.

“Well from chickens, naturally”, said Santa. “There aren’t enough Ostrich eggs to go around, and besides, they are too big to hide”.

“What color scheme am I supposed to use?”, Peter asked.

“Anything you want. Oh, and the client wants samples by 3 p.m. today, so get moving”.

Peter left the office. Well this was certainly the grand bull moose of mixed blessings. Now where was he supposed to get the eggs, and what colors should he use? And color them with what? So many questions, so few answers.

He wasn’t completely without resources. He was led to his new office. They had just finished stenciling “Easter Bunny” on the door. He went in, not bad, not bad at all. An artists palate of colors sat on a table to the left of his desk.

“I will send in Chicken Little”, an elf said.

Peter emerged from his revere. “Who?”

“Chicken Little, your head chicken”, the elf replied.

“Send her in please”, Peter said.

Chicken Little came in, clutching her handbag. “The sky is falling!”, she said.

“Wonderful”, though Peter. “Um, what colors do eggs come in?”.

Chicken Little cocked her head and clucked at him. “Why egg white and brown of course”, she said.

“No other colors?” asked Peter.

She shook her head ‘no’. Peter asked her to round up a couple of dozen eggs for him, and went to work. He had a couple of color schemes in mind. No use putting all your eggs in one basket, so to speak.

He arrived back in Santa’s office at 3. There were a couple of bigwigs there.

“Show us what you have”, said Santa.

Peter tried his first line: Red, Green, and White eggs. Santa shook his head. “Christmas already has those colors Peter, try something original”.

Peter then showed the orange brown and black eggs.

“No”, said a bigwig. “Too fall like. We are looking for spring”.

Peter tried his last shot: Pastel colors in Pink, yellow, purple, and blue. The bigwigs nodded. “It looks good so far, what else do you have?”

Peter showed them the baby chicks and bunnies, they loved it. He described an Easter Egg hunt, what the children would wear, chocolate rabbits, and jellybeans. He could see they were eating it all up. He had a winner.

One of the bigwigs was sampling the jellybeans. “Just watch out for the black ones”, Peter warned.

“Why?”, asked the bigwig.

“It could be bad sir”, Peter said.

In any case, he left the office, in a state of euphoria. Chicken Little met him out in the hallway. He excitedly told her the good news. “Now all we need is egg production, a way to color them all, and a means of getting them to people’s houses on Easter Sunday”, Peter said.

Chicken Little just shook her head. The sky really was falling. Oh well, best to let the boss figure that out for himself. They walked to his new office, chatting along the way.

“How about we shoot them there with a cannon”, Peter suggested.

“They are eggs Peter, do you want them to arrive scrambled?”, asked Chicken Little. “How about you take them all in your basket?”

“ALL of them?”, Peter asked.

“Santa does it with his toys”, Chicken Little reminded him.

“Yeah, but he has a sled with eight tiny reindeer”, Peter reminded. “Chickens can fly can’t they?”

“So do you see the jolly old fat one hopping down the trail with a sack of toys?”, Chicken Little asked, ignoring the flying chicken part.

“No”, admitted Peter. This was going to be tougher than he thought...

So here I am, huh? After nine months and six days I’m finally here. Tomorrow, if everything goes according to plan, is my first day of motherhood.

Rushing around me in a most undignified manner is my midwife. Despite being an unusually obese woman, Helen Rai did not conform to stereotypes. She is not in the least cuddly, and most certainly not bubbly. I would even go so far that she is distinctly evil. She seemed far too strict to have a job to do with infants.

Luckily for me though, I have been forewarned of her; she had been my friend’s sister’s dentist’s midwife too. At least if I ever meet her at a party we shall have something to talk about. Not that I’ll be going to many parties in the future. I’m told children put a stop to that.

It’s not like I’ve not been expecting it; after all nine months and six days is a long time, but I can’t help but feel… unprepared. Tomorrow my baby boy will be born and I shall be responsible for him. I shall have to do everything for him - from the important stuff such as the feeding and the dressing and the nappy changing, to the just as important stuff like the hugs and kisses and the playing. What if I’m just not any good at any of it?

And then there’s the time when it won’t want me to do anything for it; when he can’t help but feel smothered and loved too much. What if I don’t know how to interact with him, or teach him all those life skills he will need to learn?

‘She’s quite the witch, isn’t she?’ My boyfriend broke the silence.

‘What?’ He caught me off guard; I’m not usually the type to not pick up on the conversation topic, but I had been hard in thought.

‘The midwife. I said she’s quite the witch.’ He looked at me intently, trying to read my mind.

‘Aren’t you worried? About our baby, I mean. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of our lives.’

‘Well, tomorrow is always the first day of the rest of our lives.’

‘But don’t you realise just how much the baby will change everything, how much the baby will change us?’

‘Isn’t a bit late in the day for this kind of talk?’ he sighed.

If I were viewing the conversation from the outside I most probably would have judged me. I am good at judging. Other mums I know just seem so calm and collected all the time. Here I am, after nine months and six days, about to give birth and I’m worrying if I should really be having this baby.

If I’m not a good mother, what then? Was it right to allow myself to wait nine months and six days before I questioned my judgement, my decisions? What if my baby doesn’t love me? What if I’ve ruined all the lives involved, what then?

‘I think we should just take this one day at a time.’ He stated, in his profound way of talking.

I looked at him, sitting, body alert, eyes telling a different story. His hair was a mess, unusually for him, and his clothes ruffled. His dark skin looked sullen, and generally he did not look ready for what lay ahead.

Breaking another silence, he said ‘My mother said she’d come on Sunday.’

‘I look forward to it.’ He knew I could barely tolerate his mother; she was rude, loud and obnoxious and would have planned my baby’s life within five minutes of meeting him.

I surveyed the room properly for the first time. It was painted sickly yellow, with a border of repeating lime green eggs. How delightful. Just like babies. Cute, but they all look the same. Well that’s what they say, isn’t it? What’s to stop the baby that’s coming out of me tomorrow to be any different from the fat cow from next door’s baby? Nothing, that’s what. And then, then my baby will have a life full of me and his father to shape him. Hopefully we’ll get it right. Hopefully I’ll enjoy it.

‘Anyway, it’ll get easier as we go on.’ Once again, his wisdom stopped my thoughts.

‘You think? What about when he learns to talk and turns into a bossy brat or when he’s slamming doors and shouting and abusing us?’

‘No, I meant the more children we have.’

‘More? You want more?’ I looked at him. He was being serious. ‘Well I think we should just take this one day at a time.’

I turned over to rest. I needed that at least. After nine months and six days, tomorrow was to be my first day of motherhood, and, whether I was ready or not, it was coming.

He wasn’t a young man, my Jim. He’d lived a good life, with so many adventures and special times. It doesn’t matter though. It doesn’t matter that he wouldn’t want me to be sad. It doesn’t matter that he’s no longer suffering the aches and pains that had riddled him for the past three years. All that matters is that my husband, my Jim, is gone.

It’s been two hours since he fell into his endless sleep. I haven’t cried yet. I don’t know how to. I’ve been sitting here, waiting for him to smile, waiting for him to wink, waiting for him to reach out and hold my hand. I know it can’t happen, but maybe, if I want it enough, it could.

I look around at all the people in my house. They’re all so sad. I wish they were gone. I wish they would leave us alone. We don’t need them. We just need each other.

His face is pale. His mind is somewhere else. He’s not here. If I touch him it won’t be my husband I’m touching, it will be a statue of the man he was. He must be in a nice place. He’ll be waiting. He’ll be watching. I’m sure he would not want to be alone. I’m sure he would want me there. Maybe I could go. I’m sure my family would understand. They would be sad, but they would understand.

My daughter walks towards me, a glass in one hand and a pill in the other. I take the tablet and sit down on the couch. I feel my head getting light so I rest it back. I close my eyes and fall asleep.

Maybe when I wake we’ll be together. This is my first day without you, my love, and I don’t want another.

It’s dark. Well, I think its dark. Now that I think about it, I can see a slight pinkish light. Is that pink? I don’t know. I don’t seem to know anything…yet. Wait. Am I standing up or lying down? Lying down…I’m pretty sure. Hold on, that pinkish light is growing brighter. I wonder…yes! I can open my eyes or whatever these seeing-thingies are called.

Wow, this is amazing! The colors! The trees and birds! The…an-i-mals, yeah…animals. I’ve never seen so many wonderful things! Of course, I’ve never seen anything before now. Have I been blind? Whoa. What’s that? Sounds? Yeah! Sounds!

I hear things! Those same birds! Those animals! That….brook? Wait. Something else can be heard, but I can’t see anything! Look! When that tree moves, I hear the sound…but the tree isn’t making the sound, because I also hear coming from the…grass? And I feel it too…on my skin!

This is all so new! How can this be? It’s like waking up in a whole new world! These feelings…these new emotions. Can anything be more wonderful? I can’t find the words to describe it all! Words! What else could be so wonderful? Can I speak? Can I make noises too?

“Yes! I can speak!” But…who can hear me? The birds? The animals? They hardly noticed me. They all seem to have others of their kind to be with…to talk to…to love. I don’t seem to have anyone! “Why? Why am I alone?” This isn’t good. I have so much I want to share, but no one to share them with. Ideas…words…feelings that will never be shared! How disappointing. I almost wish I hadn’t awakened in this marvelous world with no one to share it with.

I guess I could try to find someone…an antelope? An elephant? Maybe a sea lion? No. No one seems to fit. I need someone who can share a laugh with me...a heartache. Someone I can hold and protect….to keep warm at night. Someone who can help me, and nurture my children. But there’s no one here like that. No one at all.

Who’s that? I hear someone coming through the trees. I hear them calling. What are they saying? The voice I hear seems so calm and reassuring. I’m sure I’ve heard it before. Who can it be? Father? Who is that?

“Rest Adam. When you awaken…you will have a helper that will be just for you.” What does that mean? A helper? “Rest now, Adam…rest…..rest…res*”

"Sweetie wake up, it’s your fist day of high school." My mother's voice cooed, waking me up. That word... "high school." That day came, it finally came.
"Come on wake up, we are going to be late." Her voice a little on edge now. Oh please, go away, just pretend I do not have to go to school just this once, I'll do anything.
"I said UP! I won't have you late on your first day."
"Fine! I'm up! Now get out of my room so I can get read." When I say "get ready" I really mean jump out my window and run for my dear life. I'm not normally the type of person to run away from my fears, but this is different, this is high school. So many times have I heard horror stories about that place. The teachers don't listen to you, the upperclassmen beat you up then shove you in locker, and the food looks like they picked it out of the garbage. It's a death sentence going there and I am too young to die. No way, I'm going to run away to some place warm.
"Hurry up! Stop dilly-dallying and get down here and eat your breakfast, the bus will be here soon." Ok, do it now, just jump out the window and run... one, two, three... still standing here.... Ugh, can't do it. Ok so running away is a bad idea. I need a new plan... umm... I could skip. I have never done it before, but how hard could it be? I just won't get on the bus, yeah that's easy, I can do that no problem.
“Oh so you finally decided to come down, huh?” She only uses sarcasm when she is mad at me.
“Well I can’t miss my first day, now can I?” tying to sound as sweet as I can.
“Mhmm, well hurry up and eat, I’ll walk you to the bus stop. Aw my baby is growing up, off to high school. Pretty soon you’ll be leaving me and starting your own family.” Her eyes started to water. Oh man, if she walks me to the bus stop, then I’ll never escape the torture that is in store for me today. I got to think of something quick.
“Aw mom, I’m old enough to walk there myself, don’t worry about me.” Good thinking, now let’s see if it works.
“I know you are old enough, that is not the reason. I just want to be there, it’s a land mark moment for me. My only child is going to high school, I want to be there.” Her voice sounded a little hurt by me not wanting her there for this big moment. I need to make this work, other wise she won’t have a child anymore. So, I can’t skip by missing the bus without hurting my mother’s feelings. That means I have to skip before I enter that horrible place they call a school. That won’t be too hard right?
“Ok mom, you can come, just try not to embarrasses me ok?”
“When have I ever done that to you? Don’t answer that question…. Oh goodness, we got to go, it’s time.” Yeah… time for my death, here it goes.

“See look, all of your friends parents’ are here, I’m not the only one.”
“Yeah you’re right.” Hey look, there’s Sally… I should warn her, I’m sure she values her life as I do mine.
“Hey Sally!”
“Hey! Are you ready for today? I can’t wait, this is going to be so much fun!”
“Are you nuts?!? We are going to die, we need to leave before we get stuffed into a locker or die of food poisoning.”
“Oh come on… you don’t believe all that stuff do you?”
“Well… why shouldn’t I? It’s the truth, right?”
“Come on, think about it. Have you heard that anyone student has died in that school?” Come to think about it… I haven’t. Could I be wrong in my suspicions? I mean, a death would have definitely been reported and I would have heard about it. Maybe she is right…. Ok so new plan, I will go to school for today, and if it’s as bad as I thought, I’m running away and never talking to Sally again for tricking me.
“Oh the bus is here! Come on lets go, you won’t die, I promise.” How can she promise something like that? All the same, I’m going at least for today.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Here we go, off the bus and into this unfamiliar place, wish me luck….
“Welcome Freshmen to your first day of high school.”

There was nothing that could compare to the first time that I sang on stage. At the age of 10, a girl is not suppose to be placed in front of blaring red, blue, and white lights that make it feel like it is burning the skin or making your eyes cringe.

My family and I were enjoying the day out at a local Theme Park. After riding a few rides and eating a picnic lunch, we decided to see the karaoke show. For years I sand in my own home and for some reason my mother decided to make me sing onstage. As I was chosen and handed that pink number, everything in my memory came to me in slow motion. Walking over to choose my song was more difficult then I had imagined. When I took those first two steps up I could only think to myself, "please don't fall, please don't fall." The only thing I saw was a woman with red lipstick that was smudged on her front tooth. She smiled and asked me my name. "Tina", I said waving to my mom. "And what are we singing today Tina" she asked as though I was a 4 year old. "I Will Always Love You" I replied.

The first touch of the microphone was cold, palms were sweaty and for some odd reason I couldn't control the movement of my nose. I was trying to cry at the same time as sing. I could hear my family screaming for me to sing my first song on stage, 3 feet above the crowd. What was worse was the fact that this was my first time singing in front of a few hundred people walking amongst my family and me. Not only was it the first time but the worst because my song was Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You". This was an adult's song and for a 10 year old I was so scared.

My hands were still shaking by the time the first verse came around. I just stared at the screen as the words scrolled and changed colors. Finally after that first few seconds I was calm not thinking I was in public, not thinking in general. The only thing I would think about was being at home in my shower singing to myself. I couldn't hear anything but the water cascading off my body and on the bottom of the bath tub. I closed my eyes and took on huge breath and belted out "AND IIIIIIIIIIIII.....will always love you..." And at that exact moment I felt that I had overcome everything.

I had finished my first song in public. I didn't know how else to feel because I never performed solo in front of a crowd so I ran off stage and into the arms of my mother and father. I knew from then on that I had to overcome an obstacle that still has me to this day. I need to not be afraid to just be myself.

Singing for me now isn't that hard but I still get that feeling as I did the first day my hand touched my first microphone. That nervous convulsion that I get every now and then strikes me down at the worst moment but I will one day see myself on stage in front of thousands and not be too scared. I promised myself that on that first day of my first solo performance.