{ opinion
My fab
FIVE
Chaos in its sweetest form
column.maddybarney
N
aturally, as a 15-year-old female, the topic of my future wedding enters my mind occasionally, and I generally allow it to stay there for a bit. It always ends the same though, me realizing that I couldn’t care less if my orchids are shipped in at room temperature from Zimbabwe, or if my cake is taller than me. All I know, and all I care is that, when I am up on the alter, five very specific people will be lined up behind me. They go by the names of Sam, Eliot, Solveigh, Jack and Max. When all the gunk has been boiled out of the stew of life, they will be what’s left. The solid foundation of my life and well-being. These are my fab five. They are my siblings. When I remind Sam of his duties as my maid of honor he contorts his face in such a way that any passerby might believe he is being defeated in a battle against a Warhead candy. For eight years of my life it was just Sam and me. I am confident in saying if you would have seen us in our glory days some neuron in your brain would have triggered the song from Fox and the Hound. Little did we know, there was a baby boom just around the corner. Four babies in two years. Their first few years are a crying, spitting, diaper changing blur. But these days, fun is an understatement. Bored is not in my vocabulary unless I am talking about a 2X4.
century.highschoolmedia.org / May 2010 / STAR 36
I play board games with my eyes closed. I can sing every cartoon jingle in four languages, and when I have an event of any kind I have the loudest, best looking groupies. It is not all sisterly bliss though. There are times when I would rather run to the store without buckling seat belts, fixing broken zippers, and spending 12 minutes finding lost mittens. I would rather go to a movie rated above PG and I sometimes wish I did not know which animal is in every cage at the zoo, or go to the bathroom without the door being opened six times with urgent questions. All those wishes go away though, when I am driving to the bank and the cell towers cue my phone to blast a Beethoven Symphony and the darling voice on the other end says he just called to tell me he loved me. All my frustrations go away when I turn right at the end of the hallway instead of left into my own red room to a bright orange and green one, to place my lips on the bridges of 7-year-old noses. I wish everyone could meet them and shake their petite, velvety hands. I want the world to be as happy as I am every day because I get to kiss them, squeeze them and wrestle with them. The least I can do is share a bit of insight into each of them.