The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

What is in a name? What is the worth of a name after the person is gone? There's an ancient Native American belief that to utter the name of a departed is to yank them away from paradise.



These is one name I have not dared to speak for many of years now. A lost friend, now forever nameless, and the summer when we were immortal.



I often look back at that golden summer when two young girls where still naive, just learning about life, family, and love. We'd run down to the restless lake, and all the waves were taller than us. It was a summer of cherry popsicles, of laying in the sand dunes and getting lost in the beauty of the sky. Two little girls got high on life and strawberries. We learned that potato chips go best in sandwiches, not on the side. It was a golden summer, never yellow, but golden.



That summer, when the wind rippled through the our wavy sun-streaked hair, there was always a hint of honeysuckle in our sundresses. We filled the days with laughter and shrill shrieks as we chased each other around the forest clearings. From the back porch, we spun tales of what really happened up in those starry skies. Summer days were made of muddy knees and sand castles, and twinkling nights filled with silly promises and "never-forgets."



Oh, the innocence. To look back now at that summer brings terrible pains on gloomy days. It as pure truth of childhood that we in our houses across the street from the town cemetery thought nothing of death and sadness. Summer would last forever. How could we have know that life would change?



Summer days would transition into hospital nights and the smell of honeysuckle was replaced with medical soup. One girl would lose her hair and the other held her close as she cried, watching strawberry locks swept away like the morning tide. Second opinions drowned out memories of running down to the shore, and nausea erased the taste of sweet cherry popsicles. Laughter transformed into hoarse whispers, and little girls grew too old too fast.



One girl slowly left us, like the sun fading into twilight. I wish I could say that I was there at the end. That I defied the laws of hospital visitation and lied, saying I was family. I wish I had been there to hold her hand as the faint smell of honeysuckle diminished and her bright green eyes once again searched the fading lake horizon for freighters.



I wish I could say something cliche like "I swear time stood still," but it wasn't like that. It was a normal day. I laughed with friends, passed an english test, and bickered with a boy about something stupid. I wasn't prepared to come home to a tearful mother, a grief strickened sister, and the weight-bearing thought that she was actually gone. I look back now, thinking that all I wanted was to have her talk to me and laugh with me one last time, and she never would again.



I became hardened to the goodness in the world, the same world that had given us that golden summer. The sun rose in hues of red and royal gold, and I did not blink. Someone would reach for the old picture of the two of us, age seven, with cheeky smiles, pigtails, and wide eyes, and I'd have to look away.



Then, slowly, as I grew older and maybe wiser, I began to look around. I realized that even though she is gone, I could still carry on for her. I tried to be more aware, to be more alive.



I still put chips in turkey sandwiches and smile in ecstasy whenever I eat strawberries. I still love to sit in the dunes and slurp cherry popsicles as the wind ruffles my hair.



I will always hold onto the memories of that golden summer.