Dancing Colors
Preface
The northern lights were on my bucket list from the age I knew what bucket lists were. I remember my grandfather retelling stories about the colors that would dance around in the sky when I visited my grandparents during summer weekends. My grandfather would use big hand gestures as he described his back packing adventures in Alaska with his college friends, Steve and Al. I would sit in awe at their dining table, thinking that one day I would tell him my own adventures. I guess you could say my grandfather had something to do with my love for adventure and nature.
He took me on my first camping trip to Montana when I was shy of ten years old. Mom insisted that I was too young, hesitant to have me out of her sight for more than a week, and dad took my mom’s side because he always did even if it wasn’t what I wanted. I convinced them to let me go by promising to be a “good girl,” complete my chores without complaining, be nice to my little brother Thomas, and do all the childlike things one promises when they have no real responsibilities. By some miracle, they agreed and that was my first adventure with my grandfather.
For my thirteenth birthday, he took me to see the northern lights. As my grandfather claimed, “It was one of God’s greatest gifts and nature’s greatest beauty.” This year we were supposed to go for one last hurrah before my grandfather started his chemotherapy. Cancer had other plans, though, before I could make peace with our annual tradition and saw the dancing colors with him one last time as he’d like to call them.
Wish You Were Here One Month Ago
“Sam, what do you think about this? Or do you think Julie would like the blue one?” My mom held the two sweaters up together at eye level. “Well?” They look hideous I thought. “They look great.” I refrained from sighing as customers walked passed us in the overcrowded Macy’s. Christmas shopping was Julie and my mom’s tradition to do together. Julie was my younger sister. Her and mom were always more similar. They liked shopping, make up, and all the things I could care less about. Mom would never admit it, but I knew Julie was her favorite.
“Sam, could you at least try to not act like your teeth are being pulled out? And, Christ’s sake, stop frowning. It’ll give you wrinkles,” she said harshly. “Right, like getting old is such a crime,” I spoke. “What?” “Nothing,” I bit back. She stopped walking and then I really wish I said nothing. “You know Samantha Anne I have had it with your disrespect and utter disregard for this family. It’s like anything that requires minimal effort you’re too selfish to even try, even on Christmas Eve!” she yelled, earning a few glances from passer byers. “Gosh, what would your grandfather think,” she muttered under her breath.
I stopped in my tracks, feeling the heat rise to my face. Mom noticed and, for a moment, she realized the effect of her words. “Sam, I-” “He wouldn’t think. You know why? Because he’s gone. He’s dead. Dead.” My words hang in the air, like bad food stuck in your mouth for too long. My mouth was clenched and I felt my eyes water. “Sam-” I turned away, rubbing my eyes before they turned into tears. “I’ll wait in the car,” I said turning away without giving her another and walked out the exit. The cold air blasted in my face. It reminded me of the cold air of Alaska and the way the wind blew like it didn’t care. I pulled my jacket tighter to my chest and made my way back to the car. I sat inside, wondering how life could move past me like a blur, yet it felt like I was in frozen in time. I closed my eyes, trying to remember what it was like last winter when my grandfather and I hiked up the mountain to see the dancing colors. Even in his old age, I could still see the wonder in his eyes and the curiosity that was found in a young child despite the wrinkles on his face. His love for nature always astounded me. He found a type of serenity that I wondered if I would ever find again. “You couldn’t have waited. Just one more…Christmas,” I whispered into thin air and curled my knees to my chest and dozed off The slight movement of the car woke me up. I opened my eyes, disoriented, to the taillights of another car on the road.
“You were asleep when I got back,” I heard my mom say. “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.” I snickered. Peaceful. “Sam, please.” Her tone was different. It was sad, desperate, and nothing like her usual nagging voice. “I’m trying here, ok? We all miss him. I know you and he had a different and special connection, always have. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean I don’t miss my own dad.” It was the first time I saw my mom show any vulnerability since my grandfather’s passing. Even at the funeral, I could tell she was restrained and displaying the right amount of sadness for no one to question her sanity. I stay silent, looking at the window and the snow that stuck to the pavement. “Listen, I wasn’t supposed to tell you this, but dad and I bought tickets for you to visit Alaska this upcoming January, so you can go for your annual trip to see the northern lights.” “Tickets?” I emphasized. “We got it for you and your sister, Julie. She’s been dying to go. I thought it would be a good bonding experience for you two girls, some quality time.” Now my mom started to sound like her old self. “Merry Christmas.” “That’s me and grandpa’s trip.” “I know, but I think it would be good-” “Well forget it. Just return the damn tickets. I’m not going.” “Sam-” “I said no! Okay? Everyone else misses him because he was family. That’s what their supposed to do. But he wasn’t just my grandpa. He was my best friend,” I respond, my voice slightly cracking. “Oh Samantha.” “I’m not going mom. Sorry, but I’m not.”
We pull into our driveway and she kills the ignition. “Please think about it okay. She really wants to go.” She hands me a thin wrapped box with a bow. “In case you change your mind.” I stare at her for a long moment, but then take it. “We’re gonna be baking Christmas cookies for Santa soon. It would be nice if you could join.” I shoot her a questionable look. “Isn’t Thomas too old to still believe in that crap?”
“He’s barely 9.” “Whatever,” I reply rolling my eyes. She kisses me on the top of my head. “I love you Samantha. Don’t stay out here too long. It’ll get cold soon.” I nod as she walked out. I unwrapped my early Christmas present and find two tickets laying neatly on bottom of the box. I consider ripping it up into shreds, but my fingers don’t move. I think back to what he told me in his hospital bed one night. “Sammy, I want you to promise me something.” “What’s that?” “Promise me you’ll go.” “Where?” “You know where. The dancing colors.” “Well of course I’ll go. We have our annual trip in the new year.” “No. I mean I want you to go even if I’m not here.” “Don’t say that. You can’t-” “Sammy, you know what’s the best thing your grandma taught me? She taught me that the greatest joys in life are shared. That’s why I took you on that trip when you were so young to see the northern lights. That summer your grandma passed away, I was a mess. I couldn’t bring myself to go back to that place, but then I saw how much you wanted to go, so I took you. Seeing the world from your eyes, how excited you were at something I’ve seen a dozen times made it seem like I was seeing it for the first time. I found a part of myself again in nature. It was more healing than any anti-depressant or drug a doctor prescribed me.” I pick up the tickets and hold them between my index finger and thumb. “I hope you’re right,” I say to myself and look up. When I walk in back to my house, the aroma of cookie batter fills the air. “Hey mom, do you mind if I join you in the next few hours? I wanna show Julie her gift.” She looks at me in surprise. “I mean, the gift was supposed to be for Christmas,” “But technically, you kinda spoiled it for me so don’t you think Julie should get her Christmas gift early too?” She smiles. “Fine, but just this one gift.” “Promise.” “I wish you would do more of that, Sam.”
“Do what?” “Smile. Your grandpa always loved to see you smile.” I hesitate. “I know,” I said and then I run upstairs to tell Julie the good news.
One Last Hurrah Present
“Do you think we’ll get lucky?” Julie asked excitedly as we trek our way up the hill. “I’m not sure. According to the app and Max.” Max was our tour guide for our round about trip in Alaska. While he couldn’t join us, he gave us clear directions and, with my experience in the past, it was doable. Julie and I arrived two days ago and did the normal sightseeing, museum hopping, and tourist attractions in Anchorage. “Can you remind me again why we had to go at 1 in the morning?” “Grandpa always said the best times were when the skies are the darkest and clearest, which happens to be around midnight,” I share and stop. “Here this is a good spot.” “Finally, I feel like we’ve been walking for hours,” Julie complains. I chuckle and roll my eyes. Julie was never the adventurous or athletic type. “Are you sure this is the right spot? I don’t see anything,” she states after a few minutes. “Just be patient. Trust me,” I say softly and breathe in the fresh air. “Stay still and watch the sky.” Now listen Sammy. I can hear my grandpa’s voice as clear as day. You gotta be patient. The colors don’t dance for just anybody. “Look! Over there!” I see Julie point to the sky in amazement, startling me at first. The I follow the direction of her finger and observe the first ripple of color in the sky. The vibrant green smeared across the sky like it’s a painting. The green bleeds into a bright fuchsia color and then back to green. It was so mesmerizing that I forgot how cold my face was. There was calmness that I couldn’t describe as if Julie and I were in our own worlds but encompassed in one beautiful, cosmic galaxy. If nature made me feel small, then the northern lights made me miniscule in comparison. I was this tiny bug looking up into infinity. The colors danced and shifted. “This is incredible, I mean, wow.” I glance at Julie and smile. Was this how my grandfather felt when he saw me for the first time here? Hopeful. It was a beautiful feeling, but one that felt so foreign for so long.
“Worth the hike?” She nods. “How long does it last?” “Five minutes. Maybe thirty. A couple hours. There’s no way to know for certain.” That’s why nature brings you into the present. You gotta look, otherwise you might miss it and it’s gone. The beauty is fleeting, but that’s part of the magic, my grandpa would say. I look up again at the dancing colors of the sky, feeling grounded to the earth, but lifted up to what remained beyond up above. “One last hurrah,” I say to the stars and move closer my sister, hoping that he heard that too.
Author Bio: My name is Allysa Castillo. I am a PSCI major with a minor in LTWR. Some interesting facts about me are that I have a blog and was a gymnast for 7 years. In my free time, I love to write, design, photograph, and anything that’s creative:)