***

I love watching lobsters in grocery stores. whenever I go to one I'm sure to find the lobsters and watch them until I'm satisfied with their clonky rubber-band-bound claws and their slithering whiskers. I like them, in all their absurdity. One is always trying to escape. the rest are hanging out in one corner. "you're gonna die," I say to the one scaling the glass wall, "but you can't think..." his bobble-beady eyes float suspended above his head on more whiskers.

***

Line ups for rides at theme parks are always interesting. Joking and laughing so hard you crumble to the cement, wiping the sweat off the back of your neck, elbowing, stretching. The hot August sun beats down on us through the dark-net awning, we're passing one solitary water bottle around, the sound of people groaning and whirring like a hive of hot bees, blaring rides, screaming riders, a disgruntled worker an odd sight in the picture. The wide screen tv suspended above the crowd repeats about five music videos the whole day; after two hours of being here, no one likes them anymore.
He grins at me, his wide white teeth dazzling, his dark Middle-eastern stubble peppering his broad friendly face; my cousin and I can just barely speak together in English, but he laughs and glances at the screen. "And the reason is yooooooooooou!" He sings terribly along with Hoobastank, and then grins at me again. I grin back. He didn't know he'd be wailing something else in a week at a grave site.

***

She didn't try to keep her crying quiet; her red nose crowded with crinkled tissues held there by two trembling hands. I knelt in front of her awkwardly and rest my hands anxiously on her lap, my tongue nearly jumping out of my mouth, eagerly trying to find words of comfort. But I didn't want to say anything. I was frozen, as if teetering on a cliff, and somehow could only think perfectly practically. She needed to stop crying...it made me uncomfortable...I didn't know why...and then an acidic taste rose in my throat and a burning fear surged in my stomach. Suddenly I was afraid to believe what she was crying about; I was angry that she was going along with it. I opened my mouth which felt a hundred times smaller than it usually did and spoke. "Alex," I said just above a whisper, "stop crying." she shuddered with a sob. "stop it!" I yelled.
Just then she gave way to a great wail and threw her arms around my neck, and I put my arms around her. Hot tears of unwelcome grief and embarassement started to prick my eyes and drop on her shoulder. She was the one howling, but I felt so undignified. And for the next few minutes I wasn't sure if I was holding her or if she was holding me.

***

I am fifteen now. I turned fifteen on January14...I was so happy, and the day was so perfect that it almost felt unrealistic. But thats having family and friends celebrating with you and taking time to set this day apart for you and remind you how much they love you. Being fifteen is something else, also good.
12, I was the happiest, a wild tumbling knot of curls and crooked grins, a half-tame golden cub. 13, my little suspended red heart stopped bouncing and carried seething, burning, freezing questions, and my breath got caught in my throat. 14, a pale rainbow, throbbing, growing, knowing, not knowing, mostly wishing and remembering. 15...and I'm a blundering ballerina, with silk ribbon slippers on unworthy feet, I'm trembling and...hopeful.

I have people to take care of, and to take care of me. People to nuture, and give to, to put before myself and sacrifice for. People to fold myself into and learn what they need and how I can give to them. And I'm selfish.
I have a family to honour and dishonour. To be thankful for and share love and memories with; and one day, when I go to university and then get married - maybe years after - to say good bye to.
I have friends; to give to and share life with and love and gain...and lose.
Some day, I'll have someone who will never get over me and will ask me to marry him.
I have God, and I don't know why. A love from Him that will never leave, mercy that will never cease, grace that will never lift, forgiveness that will never dry up. A love that will never treat me rationally.
And one day, I'll be old, and my heart will stop beating. My life will feel like a dream, just a fleeting moment, and I'll wonder as my lungs stretch in finality if I'll remember any of it in eternity; more than a vague discoloured dream?
This life is short, and there will never be another place like it. Encompassed in the murk and depravity of this world now, it seems endless and all-consuming. But one day, just one moment, one flutter of eyelids, one final heart beat, lungs will stop swelling with decisiveness, and that will change it all, and we will never be in darkness again.

"Our God is an all-consuming fire."
Consume me, Lord.

***