Page 70 - www.composition1.com
P. 70

Someone told me once that many kids rebel against their parents and that they would try to become
               what their parents weren't, so in turn the kids that these kids would have in the future would also
               rebel against them therefore being what their grandparents were. Something tells me it's more
               complicated than that, though.

               There have also been stories about identical twins who end up being separated from each other, but
               because of a sort of "genetic memory," they ended up behaving very similarly, sharing certain
               elements in life such as their hobbies, the type of friends they have and the career paths they chose.

               All of this makes me wonder if there is a certain combination of which switches need to be on and
               which switches need to be off in the human body to achieve a genetic peace. This switch needs to
               be off, but this one needs to be on, and maybe if you can get the code one hundred percent correct,
               you will be at peace. Maybe the world is also capable of a genetic peace.

               The three of us begin to converse, and then Lynne shows me a drawing that Sarah made for her a
               little while ago. On Mother's Day, to be more specific. It's the childish drawing of a smiling white
               rose with a smiling Sun in the background, and I immediately realize that this is what inspired
               Lynne's painting, a gift from her daughter. Sarah named her drawing "Happy Flower," Lynne
               named her painting "White Lights."

               Emily makes a joke about how all Lynne got her for Mother's Day was a bunch of flowers and how
               that was so boring. All that was really on my mind was what I would say if either of them asked me
               what I got my mother for Mother's Day. I could always lie and say I got her flowers as well; people
               bring flowers to the graves of those that have passed away all the time.

               The night that had already begun to fall long before has finally completely fallen, and the candles
               and flashlights come out. David and Sarah, who are now tired and bored of the other world come
               back to ours and are running around the apartment shining their flashlights. What was small talk
               turned into long talk and then became interrupted by flashlight talk.

               After such a long time I start to get up and tell Lynne and her mother that it's getting late and that I
               should probably get home, but before I can really finish my sentence, the flashlight slips out of
               David's hands and hits me right on the side of the head. Lynne rushes to me as if I had just been
               shot and keeps asking me questions I can't really understand because the flashlight hit me so hard.
               After a few seconds of clenching my facial muscles and rubbing the side of my head, for some
               reason I begin to laugh.

               As Lynne is looking at me confused, wondering if I'm okay, I put my hand on her shoulder and tell
               her I'm all right. I continue to laugh and then she smiles, and then the two little ones start to laugh.
               The only person who isn't laughing or smiling is Emily, probably because she thinks Lynne doesn't
               have the sense to tell her child to apologize to me, or maybe because David doesn't have the sense
               himself. Maybe both.

               Lynne asks me again if I'm okay, and then asks me if I would rather stay instead and spend the
               night. She tells me that during a blackout, the more people you have the faster the time goes by.
               Unable to say no I sit back on the couch, and then Emily tells David to say sorry to me. David
   65   66   67   68   69   70   71   72   73   74   75