The Residence of Edith

Chapter 1-The Last and First Infant

The City of Enumclaw is a strong home for me, or so it has been for the past fifteen years. Every time that I set a foot out of my pearly-white house, I take a breath and become familiar with the same smells and sounds that have met and became acquainted with my senses for a time that I remember as if it were Saturday of last week. My hometown could be called Enumclaw, but it is not the place that my eyes opened from womb-birth. Just fifteen years and two months since I first saw the light of day. From what I am told, I was the hardest child for my mother’s birth because of my size.

“You got a good ten pounder, Mrs. Graham!” the Doctor yelled. My mother’s eyes lit up as I was placed in her open, weak arms. The glow in her eyes symbolized golden hearts that beat as she stared at my newborn head and small hands. As I began to cry and cry, she whispered a name that has stayed on the top of my assignment papers for nine years: Scott. After that day, my heaviness wore off as crying took the place of my infant features. There I would stay nestled in my mother’s warm arms, cryin’ and cryin’ for fifteen long years. How do I remember my actual birthday? Because, there’s a small quilt on the wall next to my bedroom, and it hangs there and hangs there until I read it over again and shake my head every time April 4th rolls around.

“Yep! That’s when I was born, and it’ll never be changed! The Last and First infant in my family!”

Chapter 2-A Family you get used to

I have my Dad, John who works for the family. He leaves in the morning at 6:00, plucks a mild kiss upon my mother’s cheek, and hops into his car. After him is, of course, my mother. Susan who is a bright woman. Ever since we moved to Washington, she has loved being away from the daunting presence of relatives! “The closer we are to danger, the farther we are from harm” is a good term to use when we are around relatives, especially my aunts and uncles. I wouldn’t call them danger, but their intimidating presences make a chill run down my spine, the type of chill I get when the “STAR WARS” title lights the screen up with the trumpeting noise and stars supporting the yellow-outlined words. And then there’s the big brother of the family, the oldest of the clan, the superior of the siblings: Mathew. Since the fact that we are nine years apart in age, we aren’t too close in a brother-brother relationship. Yes, there are the times when my sister gets home from work and we hang out with him, but any other times, it is rare to talk about the day and how it went. I believe that the wonderful invention of Video Games has brought peace to our brotherly friendship. After Matt, just two years after, is my wonderful sister Kathryn Scarlet Graham (Although we call her Katie for short). My parents always liked the name Scarlet from the oh-so boring sleep fest “Gone With the Wind”.

Chapter 3-To Washington We Go

I never set my matured eyes upon California until the plane cut the haze of the clouds in the haunting preceding of 1996. Yes, ’95 was a glory year. A year where I could roam free in the vast world of Disneyland and feel safe. A year where my Grandma would place her red oven mitts upon withered, frail hands and withdraws soft and loving cookies from a hot oven. A year I felt where the world couldn’t love me better. “I have it so good”. I would think, placing my feet up on a table and sighing. Yeah, I had it good until 1996. I thought I was hot stuff in 1996 until December! My “downfall”, as I would call it. The voices from that very year still ring through my head.

“Just step on it!” my Mother claimed, hands clasped together in a nervous grasp. A bead of sweat lined my forehead as I limped toward her. That very night, my brother was playing with a legion of “Army Men” action figures. I knew that these were a hot craze in that year, so I decided not to bother him as he concentrated his mind upon the green, cheap plastic timewasters. It was a crisp December night, just a week away from Christmas. I wanted to be comfortable when I watched him play, so I ran up the stairs and grabbed an armful of pillows. I smiled, an eager look filling the places of my pupils, and I raced down the stairs. Christmas lights lit the room ahead of me as I went. “Ah, Christmastime!” I thought, stepping upon the steps of my way to the downstairs domain. As I reached the second to the last step, I lost it. Pillows flew everywhere, feathers and dust crowding the area. I yelled and twisted my leg, head filling with pain. This couldn’t be happening! When I fell, I swore I saw the character “Donkey Kong” swirling around my head as he stood in he jungle, menacingly, as what happened when Wiley Coyote got hit with an Anvil on “Looney Toons”. As I sat there, begging for help, my siblings came up and joked that I was just playing! My mother came and shook her head. They all helped me down the rest of the stairs and we proceeded into the Family Room. There my mother stood, sighing. She looked at my leg and shrugged her shoulders. “Just step on it!” came haunting words. Of course, my naïve mind thought that whatever my mom said was true, and so I did. “CRUNCH!” was the only thing I remembered until the hot pre-cast covered my innocent but feeble leg. After that Christmas, a hell followed where I could not escape the flames that burnt me so for one year. One year that left my mind scarred with the haunting task of carrying around a loose leg, a leg that would never be the same.