Here are our stories...
Intricately Distinguishable Winter​
​
Arise! I hear the pitiful and squeaky toy Zeus started to mess with. Zeus is a short-haired kitten, who is gray and loves to play. It was 6:30am, but I knew his morning would intertwine with mine, and so I got up to open the door for him and let him out. I snooze for a couple of more minutes, until I awake to the sound once again. I gestured for him to hop in my bed, and snuggle under the sheets. The window was foggy, my slippers sat still on the floor, and I remained on my bed with the little consciousness I had, and only a notion in my mind persuading me to turn my alarm off before it would shake the entire room. This isn’t typical for all, but it is everything that shapes my winter. We start the morning with snuggles.
I begin my first class of the day, and Zeus sets himself on the stand staring out the window, but looks to be concentrated far deeper than what the scenery had to offer. I put on my sweatshirt and get up to brush my teeth. I was overtaken by my element, from the feel of my fuzzy socks, to the shivers and goosebumps spontaneously getting to me from time to time, and my half-awake stare into my bitter-zero reflection, so early in the morning. My goal is to focus on what the teacher is saying, but my awareness only goes to Zeus now sitting on my lap, playing with the strings of my pants. I make myself a sizzling hot glass of tea, while he warms my heart with his gentle purrs. My little sister is offering candy canes to my neighbors, and so I relax at the thought of my family coming together.
My school day is finished, and I begin to start my actual day. I walk outside with my jacket, to feel the breeze and explore what new leaf could have joined our backyard. My obsession with trees is because of the beautiful rendition of seasons. The art of trees is that you can never truly dictate a tree’s final stage, because soon enough, they will blossom in newer colors. However, I was there to enjoy the mere branches that were left, and I sat and planned my day as I stared down the bark. I walk back in, and find Zeus in a little elf costume. It was the cutest thing. I finish up my school work and get ready to shower. It’s one of my favorite parts of the day.
First, I combed out my hair. I put on my long-sleeve red and pink shirt, to embrace my festivity. I continued onto my thick sweatpants, and a fresh pair of Christmas fuzzy socks. I reach for my hoodie and jacket, and head outside once again. This time, I was watching Christmas lights with a few of my friends. We walked around and talked about all things that were relevant and irrelevant. My eyes watered from the wind blowing in my face. I remember walking, and trying to match steps with my friend, so we’d have a uniform walking style. I felt my thumbs scrunch up, and my nose gets red from what felt like below-freezing weather. We all go back home to find Zeus playing with his new string toy. He runs around, and my uncle in the kitchen is attending to our guests with hot chocolate and our homemade hot chocolate bombs. We pop one into each glass, and watch the powder sink, as the light pink and white marshmallows rise to the top. The Grinch, almost out of nowhere, started playing and we enjoyed the feelings that were brought to us.
When I rested on my pillow, I thanked God for every experience I gained. From the squeaky toy, to my shudders, and finally enjoying the lights and movies with those whom I love. Everything about today will become a nostalgia for later years when I remember my winter days. I might have failed to mention, I hate the cold, yet life presents me with the ultimate duality; my fondness for each season- including the wintertime. It is what begins the New Year, and finalizes all 12 months of tiredness and experiences. And while we all share a similar vision of winter, mine is personal and so is yours.
By Imane Ouadah
​
Lebanon​
​
Your skies are clear blue in the day with the burning sun shining in the sky. The night time was exceedingly dark with only a million specks of light that filled the night sky. I remember sitting on a roof being so close to the stars I had the feeling I could even touch one. A bright beaming light would shoot across the sky and fly over the village making everyone's wishes come true.
Your land is filled with beauty. My village, up on a high hill almost as high as the clouds. Where the trees sprouted and were filled with delicious fruits. I had a penchant for their juicy fruits like the grapes that were the size of golf balls and ripe purple figs filled with flavor. Everything was natural fruits, vegetables, and even milk. Oh the freshly warm milk that was heated after picking it up from the farmers who owned those cows. The warm milk that gave you comfort, the milk you would drink while everyone was gathered in the living room early in the morning. Oh Lebanon! I remember staying up late and watching the sunrise over us. Looking over to the other villages lights and hearing the mosque's speakers reciting the Quran early in the morning. The vibes were immaculate and it felt like home. The heart of the land was its people. I truly felt safe for everyone around you, knew you, your family, and friends.
By Layan Fares
The Past, Present, and Future​
​
I looked out the fogged window watching the first snowfall of the year and embracing the crisp air through the glass. I watched the neighborhood children running to the nearest park, sliding on ice sheets and playing with the snow. I looked down at my phone, looking at the world through other people’s eyes as if I were in their place. Tired of hours on a screen, I fell asleep to a video of New York’s top ten destinations.
When I woke up, it was still snowing and the time had not changed, however, something was different, something was off. The air was cold and the clouds were gloomy. There were no children outside, leaving the snow almost clean of footprints. I look at my phone, like every other day, to see my friends bombarding the media with pictures from their windows or porches. I finally sat up on my bed and opened my computer and began my school day. Since this dreadful year was finally wrapping up, my English teacher found it appropriate to open with the question “What are your new year’s resolutions?” I never liked these questions because I was always content with my life and where I was going, so I never found the need for a change. However, this year was evidently difficult and eye opening for many, including myself. Therefore, I had plenty of ideas to revamp my life in the new year. Running on three hours of sleep, I dozed off.
It was an early morning in 2021 and I levitated off my bed onto the warm, heated floor, thrilled at the sight of a white Christmas. I ran downstairs to see my parents eating breakfast and gave them each a savory hug. Later that day, I met up with my dearest friends to enjoy the snow day. I came back home and immediately went to bed, exhausted from a day full of laughter and joy. I looked around at the vibrant colors of love in my life and couldn’t help but smile as my eyes slowly shut and my brain drifted back into reality.
I shook my head awake and sat up. I raised my virtual hand and spoke my mind about my new year’s resolution. “I want to take in all the bright aspects of life and appreciate what I have because we often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.”
​
By Rayna Isber
Warmth
​
Curled up with my headphones blasting music, pen in my hand, blanket over my head. I start to draw on my arm. At first I didn’t want to draw on my arm cuz how old am I, ten? I start with a basic Japanese flower, because I'm obsessed with them. Had I’d known that they’d lead to me getting suspended for three days I wouldn’t have ever drawn them on the bathroom walls. I didn’t know anyone cared about bathrooms in school anymore. Why do we need to follow these rules anyway? Well it doesn’t matter anyways because now I have my own space, and I’m so warm. I feel like I’m going to fall asleep. I continue to draw on my arm, running out of space I start to draw down my hand to my fingers. Beautiful blue ink all over me. I feel like a flower princess. Surrounded by flowers, pictures and backdrops and drawings tattoo my bedroom walls. I draw until I cover my entire arm to my shoulder. It’s gorgeous. I don’t want to smudge it though. I carefully take out my headphones and uncover my friend, my defender, my blanket. I wave my arm in the air a few times to get the drying started.
I exit my room and start to walk downstairs to the kitchen. I see my mother asleep, a wine glass on the living room table. I’ll have to wait till tomorrow to show her my arm if she doesn’t wake up tonight . I walk across the living room to open the sliding door to the backyard to find my dog, Cow. I call her Cow because she’s black and white like a cow and she’s fat. She used to eat in our garbage as a stray, but we took her in about a year ago and she means so much to me. But as soon as she sees my arm she whines. Confused, I try to show her that it's dry, and nothing to worry about. But she takes two steps back as if she were scared of my artwork. Why does Cow remind me of my classmates and teachers? Even the principle. She must think I’m hurt, or maybe it's blood. So I rub it a little for her, to show her it’s dry and that I’m okay. She comes closer slowly and sniffs my arm from a distance, now really scaring her off, she barks at me and runs into the woods behind our house. Feeling sad, I head back inside.
My mother is awake and ready, she looks up at me with tired eyes from working three shifts straight at the diner. She rises from the couch to her feet, takes one look at my arm and her face turns red. She lectured me for ten minutes before making me wash off my art. She says that art will get me nowhere and I can’t make it in this world if I’m not mature and ready. That I can’t just do what I want. Life will demand all my attention and I should quit trying to be unique and start to be a ‘good girl’. She sent me to the bathroom to get rid of my character.
As I’m washing off my personality, arm and hands, she walks in and sees my arm still smudged with hope and says I’m taking too long and scrubs it off for me, hurting my skin. I told her it hurts but she keeps going, digging into my skin, then I see red-ish blue in her fingernails. I scream and yank my arm back. She doesn't even apologize, she makes me feel as if I’m so malicious if I don't give in. I look at my arm, blue and red mix and feel sadness. Tears fill my eyes. I quickly take a deep breath and a white towel to wipe my arm carefully, failing to avoid the stabbing pain of reality. While I stain the pure white towel, my mother tells me how ashamed she is of me, and how I should be ashamed of myself as well. Well I'll never be ashamed of my work. Even if I drew in the bathroom walls, so what? I made those walls beautiful. I shake off what she said and head back to my room.
My mother is cold, and doesn’t care about me. My room is the only thing that relieves me of my troubles. It’s so warm and cozy and has pillows everywhere. I can’t ever leave that room and expect to get the same privacy and inspiration anywhere else. I lock my door and hear the clank of a wine bottle kiss my mothers glass. Maybe she just needs a blanket to cheer her up. So I take “Warm” of my five furry blankets to the living room to see a very sad mother sitting on the couch. I cover her body in the blanket and she opens her arms to hug me. I hug her, and lay down next to her. This is how we bond, how she apologizes. We both feel better after the warmth comforts us. And she kisses my forehead as I fall asleep with my head in her lap. Maybe I can try taking my art off the walls and into an art book. I can try to but I don’t know if I could contain myself like that. I feel like everything should be covered in beautiful things, I want to make everything look pretty. I can’t hold back what I feel and I don’t feel like I should.
By Serene Farraj