The Evolution of Rainbowheart By: Mikayla Flanz

If I am going to write a blogpost about family, I feel like siblings need to be addressed. Sisters to be more specific. They steal your clothes, mock how you look, but 5 minutes later you have to make up so together you can discuss whatever random scenario you would never be able to talk about with any of your friends. Because you’ll never have the same connection with anyone else. Yet of course we all fight with our siblings, I with my sister more than anyone else, but that fight is going to go to a whole new level considering this blog post is about her. It’s time the Internet was introduced to Rainbowheart aka Olivia Flanz.

Born the third of October, 2004, my biggest pain and partner in crime emerged to this Earth. She might be two years younger than me, but that did not stop unfair genetic distribution from making her four inches taller than me. Even though she has that on me, she dug her own grave by making an Instagram for herself in fourth grade... I’m relatively certain most people that got social media at a young age regret a good portion of what they posted, not necessarily because there was anything bad, but because we all hated who we were in middle school. Anyway, Olivia being the absolute sparkle child she was decided to name herself “Rainbowheart”. And thus, an icon was born.

Personally I always though this title was legendary, as did many of my close friends. But our abmeration for her, escalating to a certain point may or may not have drive her over the edge after a few years. (It may have come to the point where we made a fan page for her... just maybe). It was tragic, but she finally changed her username, which then led us to create a hashtag in her honor (#bringbackrainbowheart), alas it did not work.
Now she is just Olivia Flanz, a little boring, but it’ll do I guess. There are so many stories to be told about her (she’s done so many questionable things), like the time she broiled a bar of chocolate, but blog posts can only be so long. For now, let’s hope for my sake that Olivia never finds this blog, but if you do Olivia... please don’t burn my clothes. Please.
Love ya sis, this one’s for you!

Pros and Cons of Being an Only Child by Chloe Clancy

Whenever any of my classes are in a group discussion, siblings tend to be a common topic, whether it be about fighting, sharing, or literally anything else. Usually, my teacher asks the class, "Does anyone have any older/younger siblings?" Following this question, everyone's hands shoot up... except mine. That's not even an exaggeration, I've actually looked around before and EVERY SINGLE ONE of my classmates had their hands up, while I'm just sitting there, with that fake smile on my face pretending to be special. Depending on the topic, people start talking about how annoying or mean their siblings are, and that gets me thinking, I'm fine the way I am, as an only child. However, if you asked me that same question 8 years ago, I would not have been fine. There was a period of time where I was almost angry at my mom for not birthing a little brother or sister for me to play with. Now, it got me thinking of all the reasons why I enjoy or despise being an only child, and that's why I've made a little list of the pros and cons of being an only child.

PROS

1. I never had that "all star" older sibling to live up to.
Sometimes my friends express to me that they're tired of their parents always comparing them to their older siblings. It seems to have given the parents a motive to push their kids to do well, and sometimes it seems to be stressful for the younger sibling. However, being the only child, my mom never had anyone to compare me to, I was always my own.
2. I was never involved in little fights or arguments.
This one's simple, the only person I had to fight with, was myself. The worst it ever got was me arguing with my own conscience about what color shirt matches my jeans the best.
3. I got all the attention.
This definitely sounds super conceited, but if I'm being honest, it was nice having the spotlight all to myself. There was none of that "favorite child" nonsense, and at family gatherings, my relatives would just fuel my ego. Don't get me wrong, it's nice, but sometimes it got a little annoying, like come on Grandma, let's talk about something other than how many songs I can play on the piano.
4. There were no reputations to inherit or set.
A common issue I've heard about involves the reputations of siblings. I've heard stories about how some teachers or coaches absolutely adore or loathe some of my friends, just because of their older siblings. Sometimes this can be a good thing, however when a sibling doesn't set a good impression on someone, chances are that will carry over to the younger ones, which sounds tough. Along with that, I'd hate to be the oldest, and always worry about how I represent my family.

CONS

1. Every game had to be a one player game.
After a while, playing Wii Sports against the COMs got really old and really boring. It was especially weird when I would just sit in the TV room playing Mario Kart in SILENCE. I had no one my age to talk to, and it was not a common feeling to be absolutely bored to death on weekends. Not to mention, board games were completely useless in my household.
2. I don't know how to argue.
Although it was kind of nice not having someone that I was constantly bickering with, I never actually gained the skills and experience from fighting with siblings. Today, I am one of the biggest pushovers I know, because I don't know how to argue with anyone. I could say something, and someone else could disagree, and I'd just respond like, "Oh yeah, I guess you're right." I never got to experience the confrontational squabbles that most siblings do, that give them the knowledge of how to win a fight.
3. Sharing is extremely hard.
When someone asks me for one of my 30 pretzels in my bag, I feel a physical pain in my chest, and I cannot comprehend how someone would have the audacity to ask me for MY food. This is probably a result of having everything to myself since birth. This probably isn't the best trait to have, but with this, I try not to ask other people for things. Hopefully that makes up for it? No? Yeah, you're right.
4. There's no scapegoat.
I wasn't necessarily a bad kid per se, but I mean sometimes I'd make some mistakes. If I did end up being caught (which I usually did not) I always took the hit. Why? Because there was no one else to blame it on. If I made a mess, there was never any "________ did it!" Because there was only one person who could have done it, and there was no question.

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way, shape, or form, dissing my mother for her child quantity, nor am I suggesting that I am unhappy as an only child. I'll keep my pretzels to myself.

Me, circa 2011, playing chess with a stuffed animal

We Were Here by Liv Przydzial

We Were Here

by Liv Przydzial

Sad songs flowed from my guitar,
the same words I sang after fights with my parents,
after losing my dogs,
after leaving friends, sometimes for just a few hours, sometimes forever.

I was alone in this world now,
trapped in this cold, bitter loneliness,
while around me was just the opposite.

I had no one, so it seemed.
My mom and dad were far, far away,
my sister was long gone at some school in some town,
my dogs in the sky, out of reach,
my friends across the wall but not here, not with me in the present.

I was lonely. Quite lonely.

Perhaps a walk?
I stood from my nest of blankets on the shaky legs of a newborn fawn,
a nest of blankets I would normally have shared with Bentley and Sylvia,
her tired body lying across the length of the bed,
me in the corner,
and Bentley stretched out over us.
Those were the days in which, among the chaotic tornado of life,
I had forgotten to appreciate the cramps in my neck the next day from not sleeping comfortably.
Physically, maybe I hadn't, but at least I slept in peace, in security, in love.

'Twas too warm for shoes.
Why should I care what people think if I am still alone in their midst?
I clambered down the hot pavement, my feet burning only a little step by step.
What a day!
The fresh breeze brushed through my messy hair just as my mom once did,
and my ankles brushed the soft wildflowers that we used to braid into crowns together.
I gently plucked one from the root, just as mom had taught me,
and breathed in a memory.

Down the street, I skipped,
the symphonic chirps and chatters of the birds bringing music to my ears.
I whistled back, just as I did to my parakeets,
now long gone, but here in memory.
They were here!

Into the woods, I bounded,
just as I did with my sister every day after school.
A race, was it? Some sort of competition?
The memories had blurred in my mind,
but the feelings wage the same waves in my heart.
My sister is here. This is Sylvia.
We are here together, skipping into the woods,
jumping on rocks, leaping across streams, climbing trees.
We are here, at last.

Down the path I frolicked, the leaves leaving a patchwork of ever-changing shadows across my face.
I came to the point in the path in which I found mom.
She was here, in this archway of vines.
She was here, in the birds' nests softly embedded in the twigs.
She was here, in the berries she told us were 'gold for the soul',
when everyone else told us they were poisonous and that we shouldn't even touch them.
She was here, in the bright morning glories that she'd wake us up early to see.
She was here, with me,
here.

And from my enchantment, I burst into the open sun,
just as I did when we went on bike rides with my dad,
my tiny feet pedaling as fast as they could to get up the hill first,
my dad letting me win, of course.
There were the benches from which we watched the sun fade into the night in a dazzling watercolor display.
This was us. We were here.

Bentley used to race down the path to swim here,
used to soar into the water with one giant leap.
He was never happier. I was never happier.
As I stood here, a smile came upon my face.
He was here, one big furry ball of love and happiness,
so why shouldn't I be happy too?

And as I crossed, barefoot,
the pointy, sharp rocks dividing the bank of the water,
I came to the realization that this bank, this here bank of this pond,
was just like my family, metaphorically.
Most of the bank was beautiful, soft, caressing,
but these sharp, stabbing rocks,
where the scary spiders of my childhood lived,
represented our struggles.
Our family had never been perfect, but in that imperfection were the best lessons learned.
The bad must also be appreciated.

Once I crossed the prickly rocks, I bolted across the grass, kissed by the sun,
down this hill and right up the next, just as I would with Sylvia.
I came to the picnic table, where other families had sat and eaten together.
I used to watch them from the other side of the pond,
hidden from view on a tree arched over the water.
I had envied them,
envied them so so deeply.
But those were their stories, not mine.
In a way, though, those families were my families, just the same.
I was a part of their tradition. I was here with them.

As I ran, I passed the raspberry bushes.
Oh, grandma. All raspberry bushes remind me of her.
I used to race to her garden first thing every time we visited.
She had fields of raspberry bushes, so it seemed, and I would stand on my tippy toes just to reach the sweetest, juiciest ones at the top.
I'd always come back with red juice all over my face, scratches from the thorns down my arms and legs, and a full belly of berries.
And right here, she was with me.
We were here,
together.

Still further down the path, I came to the spot in which my grandpa tried to teach me to fish.
It was not really here, in this spot,
but in my mind, he was here.
This was us,
this was our spot.
We were here.
Are, here.

The woods opened up from here into a small clearing in which a stout little house stood.
A perfect little house, flowers of every color one could imagine covering the porch,
their radiant gardens overflowing with beauty.
The old grandma and grandpa had shared this garden with me,
teaching me how to smell the rainbow and showing me that snakes weren't all that bad.
They were my family too, in this sense.
They had shaped, molded, me.
They were part of my history, and now part of my present.
As I stood in their garden, looking at the dead flowerbeds and remembering what once was,
I watched the gardens immediately come to life in my mind.
We were here.

And as the path continued back into the woods,
I came to a place in which I found a piece of myself.
A turtle was it? Yes, there was a turtle on the path,
a few little boys my age there, tossing the poor guy around.
I stood, frozen, formulating a plan in my mind.
But it was quite too late. I was already in the middle of their circle.
Not a single of us spoke as I snatched the turtle from one boy's hands and ran to the bank of the pond,
gently setting him down and allowing him to waddle back in, unharmed.
This spot right here, those boys, and, for god's sake, even that turtle - were my family.
And they were here. We were here.

And finally, I arrived at a little rock.
'Just a big hop over from the edge of the water!' I would encourage Bentley.
I finally got him to jump over, and from that moment on, this was our place.
Standing on this tiny, tiny rock I realized that we were here,
just as we had all been in all these places around the pond,
just as we were back then.
I sat down, criss-cross applesauce, just as I did when I was a kid, and watched the fish in the water below as the realization washed over me:
Everyone was here with me. Maybe not physically, but they were here in mind and in heart. In memory, we were here.
And that is all that I could ever need, all that I could ever ask for.

The Summer Everything Changed~ By Julia McEllen

           Every summer I look forward to those gorgeous days on the beach, tanning under the sun and swimming in the ocean. I look forward to those lazy nights, sitting by the campfire and roasting marshmallows. I look forward to those girly days, getting my nails done with my mom and my sister, and going shopping as we slurp down our Starbucks iced teas. But all of that changed this summer, when my sister, Madelyn, went away to the University of South Carolina. Soon all those days became the "last time". The last time we would ever have a girly day during the school year with her. The last time we would ever be able to come home from the first day of school and tell each other all about it.

          My sister and I are both really close, and we love to do everything together. When those last few weeks of summer were approaching, I knew she would be leaving soon and it was hard. I knew we wouldn't be able to have movie nights or talk in her room for hours on the weekends. I knew she wouldn't be there to drive me to school or pass me in the hallway anymore. When the day finally came for her to leave, my brother, my mom and I packed up all of her things and drove ten hours down to South Carolina. We thought of it as a fun family road trip to end the summer, trying to distance the fact that Madelyn would not be coming home with us afterwards. Although it was hard for me to leave her, I knew it was even harder for my mom. The first day home without my sister felt strange. I remember waking up and going into my sister's room to see if she was awake. Walking in and then remembering she wasn't home was probably the strangest part. It took awhile for us to get used to the fact that we
won't be seeing Madelyn 24/7.

         Every summer after the first week of school my family and I go apple picking with my cousins. We meet at the orchards and after picking apples, they come back to our house for a sleepover. My cousin Kara is my age and she has an older sister Cailin who is my sister's age. Despite the fact that my brother is sort of the odd one out, we are all still really close. To not have Madelyn there for our summer apple picking tradition was hard for all of us.
        Although I won't be able to see her all of the time, we write letters and call each other almost every day. She will have the time to come home a lot in her school year which makes me really excited. I think knowing that she is happy and loves her college and her roommate makes it easier to handle the fact that she is so far away. Honestly, she couldn't have picked a better place to go to college because now when I go to visit her, I get to go to the beach!