Hand Soap Story

   We all have that one thing that makes us happy. That one sight. That one taste. That one scent. That one thing that just triggers the happiest of times; sparks up your favorite memories. That one song that's changed your life. That one friend that you can't go without. There's so many possibilities. But that's all to be discussed another time. Now, it's time for my "special thing".  

   This... Is my story.

   I grew up in the country. My family had their own farm. We had cows, goats, all that. We even had an orchard, full of beautiful apples. But when I turned 12, a fire started in our house. All of my family made it out safe. Except for our cat.

   Once we were all out, we stood there, transfixed by the beauty of the flames. The flames were strangely beautiful that night, leaping and jumping through the air, a warmth reaching over us. Unfortunately, the fire jumped a bit too far.

   It caught on the branch of a nearby tree. And then another. And another. One by one, we watched our wonderful orchard go up in flames. It froze us all. No one could move. No firefighters called. No neighbors home or near enough to notice or help. I lost track of time. How long had I been standing there, watching all of my childhood burn up before my eyes? Minutes. Hours. Who knew? I could have spent days staring at the fire spreading, and I wouldn't have noticed until I, too, was engulfed in the flames. 

   Eventually, my dad snapped out of the warm trance of the fire and called help. We slowly stirred back to life. Within another half an hour, the firefighters finally arrived, though there wasn't much house left to save. A cop car picked my family and I up and drove us to a hotel so we could figure out what to do next and have a place to stay for the night. My dad in the front, with my mother on the left, my brother in the middle, and me on the right, the three of us squashed in the back seats of the car. In the silence of the drive, only one thing was said. And it was enough to break us all. It was the final piece to our crumbling puzzles. My brother, being only four, didn't fully understand what was happening, haven been suddenly woken up and thrown outside. He asked the one question we didn't need:

   "But what about Kiki? We can't leave her behind!"

   I broke down. Kiki, my first and only cat. She didn't make it out of the house. The firefighters said they would look, but the chances of her survival were low by that point. I could hear a sniff from the front seat where my father sat. My mother was crying. My brother was trying to turn around, to see the flames disappearing as we drove away. I looked out the window, at the familiar roads we had drove down several times before. A tear rolled down my cheek. I may have been only twelve at the time, but I understood fully well that I probably wouldn't be driving down this road anymore. 

   We were forced to move. Forced to leave the house I had grew up in to find a new house in a new place. We ended up moving to a village in the middle of town. It was a nice place, but wasn't quite the same. When we got to our new house, the neighbors gave us many welcome gifts after hearing our story. I could practically hear the pity oozing off of them. It was sickening. I had run up to my room and hid. A few days later, I was playing outside and got my arms covered in mud and dirt. Once I got inside, my mother had handed me a new bottle of soap to use. It was one of the gifts from a neighbor. Reluctantly, I used it, knowing I had to wash off one way or another.

   And that's my story.  That's my background. I never said what my "special item" was, as you may say, but it is quite foolish really. It was the Klar & Danver Apple Fields Hand Soap. The scent reminded me of my old home, my real one, the one I grew up in and then lost while I was still a child. The house that took my wonderful kitten with it. To be honest, I used to absolutely hate that scent. It was sad, it made me angry with the world. I had anger issues for a while after the accident. But now, at age 20, I finally understand it all.

   The scent of that hand soap, the scent of my old home, it shouldn't bring back the anger. Don't dwell too much on the past. I'm not saying to completely forget it ever happened, but try not to be too harsh on yourself about it. You can't change what happened in the past, no matter how hard you try. When I smell the wonderful apple fields scent of the soap, it reminds me of the orchard I had had.

   But I focused more on the good memories of it, not the sad ones that tore me down.

   The memories of running between the trees, my hair catching in the wind.

   The memories of chasing Kiki around the open fields on the other side of the house the time she had escaped.

   The memories of standing against a tree, watching the sunset. My fathers hand on my head and my mothers hand on my shoulder as I held my newborn brother.

   The immense joy of the moment... It's all I could ever ask for.

   Now, I ask you. What is your special thing? What makes you happy? What's your story? Remember, try not to dwell too much on the past, but don't forget it. Relish on the happy times in life. You don't get to live forever. Enjoy life while it lasts. Cry when it's sad, laugh when it's happy, scream when it gets hard. Just don't forget, what happened in the past is in the past. You can't change it, I know, I've tried. Remember that little pet who died, the friend you used to have, the grandparent you loved so much. Remember when you used to sit together and be happy. Remember when you used to cry together. Just never forget to live in the present, because that's what matters most. There is past, and there is future. Live in the present, and try not to worry.

   Find your source of happiness, and never let it go.

   That's my story, and thanks for listening.

                                                                                                     ~[}FIN{]~