Tag Archives: Heaven Angleberger

Fall’s Silence

By Heaven Angleberger

Dad and I approached
the dimly lit winter woods
careful not to crunch

loud leaves under our
cold feet. The rasping wind swarmed
about our bodies,

causing us to sway.
We staggered up the mountain
as the sun began

to rise, its shadow
looming over our painted
camouflaged faces.

We walked in silence
closing in on our hidden
destination that

hung high in a tree.
I found myself thinking twice
about the steep climb.

With my heart racing
and my vision a mixture
of red and orange,

I stood very still
taking in my surroundings.
Birds sung their own songs,

deer tracks seep in soil,
wind echoed off the trees,
my own breath falling.

I focus on the
synchronizing beat of my
heart with the fading

sound of my footsteps.
I’m left with only the sound
of my steady breath.

 

 

If You Had Stayed

By Heaven Angleberger

I don’t have any memory of you. You are the one person who has been shut completely out of my life. You left because you couldn’t take care of me. You didn’t have the money or the time or the energy to handle being a mother. Dad says that keeping me away from you is better for my sake. That I am better off without you because where I am now, I can be provided with all the things needed to succeed in life. As I have grown older, I have developed an understanding of what really happened. I think a lot about the life you are living.

I have always wondered many things about you. What you look like. If you are short or tall. Whether you have blonde or brunette hair. Why you didn’t stay. I wonder about who you are and what kind of life you are leading without me. Do you think about me? Do you think about the way you betrayed my trust when you left me behind, how you put all the responsibility on Dad’s shoulders?

I always thought that it was my fault that you left. That I had done something that made you think your daughter wasn’t good enough. That I had not been the daughter you dreamed of every night. Would you have stayed if I looked differently or had been more like you in some extraordinary way?  

Dad and I have the same smile. There is something lopsided about it that can warm an entire room. I wonder if you have the same lopsided, warm grin. We don’t listen to the same music– he listens to heavy metal while I listen to pop, sometimes country. Do we have this connection? I wonder sometimes what little things that I didn’t inherit from Dad, I inherited from you.

If you could only see me now. You would see an intelligent fourteen-year-old who is the goalie for her soccer team. I dive and jump to block kicks and make my team the best in the district. I am a straight A student that has always been at the top of my classes. I stay focused on my work and set an example for my fellow classmates. I write days on end and get carried away into the world of my words. I set the goal of getting into Barbara Ingram, the ninth-rated school in Maryland. After working my butt off for a month, I received notice that I had been accepted in. I am daring for the time I cut off fifteen inches of my hair to show my inner self. I wonder if I am anything like you.

But I am more like my new mom than anyone else.

She is daring for going back to college to pursue her dream of becoming an engineer. She completed her many pages of homework each night while caring for four children. She is intelligent and has completed each year of college passing with an A or higher. She is everything that I have dreamt a mother could be. We go back-to-school shopping at Kohl’s, making sure that I start the year with the latest brands. She browses the store for hours searching for the exact style of jeans that I want, never stopping to complain about how long it is taking. When I am sick, we go to Chipotle to catch up on the gossip. I always order the burrito with rice, which instantly makes me feel better.  She makes sure my homework is completed and ready to turn in the next day. If it isn’t, we sit down together to make sure I have a full comprehension of the assignment. Sometimes she will sit down with me, on my bed, to talk about the important lessons of life. She doesn’t care that I am not “her own.”  She loves me as much as any mother would love her child.  That’s more than you ever did.

I guess I will never understand the reason why you left. But I am okay with that. Now that you are gone, I finally know what it looks and feels like to be a part of a family. My new mother takes your place as if you had never been there at all.

 

A Eulogy for Nonfiction

By Heaven Angleberger, Autumn Thrift, and Alison Clingan

Thank you, everyone- classmates and genres alike- for being here today to honor this very unexpected demise. Although we were not exactly what you would call the friendly type, Nonfiction was a very important part of not only our’s but other’s lives as well. Especially yours, Creative Nonfiction. We know that your beloved fraternal twin meant a lot to you.

The first time we met Nonfiction was in our first grade class. Mr. Genre made us take hold of its hand. Although it was abnormally sweaty and disgusting, we held on tight. Throughout the years we learned to become one with Nonfiction. We learned to see Nonfiction for its true self; a know-it-all and not as a bother that always got in the way

We remember Nonfiction was always so strict, proper, and factual. We consistently found it horribly boring, yet they enticed me with their aspirations to entertain and inform, even if they could really only do one of the two. As president of their shelf, they upheld somewhat of a nerdy reputation.

We don’t exactly have much to tell you about Nonfiction other than the fact that it was extremely useful to us. It taught us the ways of DIY and astronomy over the years and we are incredibly thankful for that. Not only did Nonfiction teach us multiple things, but it inspired us to become the type of person that we are today.

We always had this dull fascination with Nonfiction. It was always dragging on about things that we seemed to think didn’t matter. It constantly was spouting fact after fact. Nonfiction and his followers on the shelf went by a motto that we feel the need to share with everyone; “Speak the truth and nothing but the truth.” They wouldn’t even tell a little white lie. So if you looked bad in those pants, you could count on them to tell you.

Even though Nonfiction wasn’t our favorite genre, all the other genres looked up to Nonfiction as a mentor. How they could stand it, we have no idea. Although Nonfiction, also known as “motormouth” was a pain at times we all were reassured by Nonfiction’s presence.

Nonfiction, we wish you the best in the afterlife. Rest in Peace, wherever you may be. Thank you to all who came, I’m sure Nonfiction is there looking down on us, thanking us for today and wishing us well on our next history test.