The Apricot Journal
EDITORS’ NOTE
Dear South High Community,
As the weather warms, and the sun sets later in the day, it is clear that we are approaching spring. With exam season beginning, and everyone anxiously awaiting summer’s arrival, it’s the perfect time to take a moment for yourself and appreciate the little things.
Many of the pieces in Volume 4, Issue 3 of The Apricot Journal explore the concept of growing up and the meaning of life. We begin with poems about going to bed, a mundane task that isn’t really thought about. We don’t really consider how much “bed time” in essence has changed over the course of our lives, with many of us gradually going to bed at a much later time, without the security and comfort of the things of the past.
“Essence of Life” by Rosalie Behi ‘26 and “My Paradise” Chloe Williams ‘24 explore ideas on idealistic worlds, and what we find as we mature. Authors tap into their creativity, thoroughly expressing the bittersweet nature of growing up through their beautiful imagery and metaphors.
Finally, ending with “Dear Icarus,” reminds us of the fate of the man who flew too close to the sun, reminding us that it is okay to take our time, and that we don’t have to overreach before we are ready. Just like the spring meadows become more green in hue, beautiful things aren’t done hastily, rather over a period of time, just like our lives. Take your time. Enjoy the meadows.
All the best, Maddie Trombly
Art in the journal!
Bedside dreams
Caelum Lam, Grade 12
“Look at that little human” the stars thought as they watched a girl leisurely plop around in lofty blankets snow pillowing there rain blowing elsewhere and sun lowering someplace else
“Perhaps I can do that too” they thought and then they drifted amongst pillowing dust there blowing bits elsewhere and sun lowering someplace else
“Look at those stars go” the little human thought.
Pink in the night
nina bui, Grade 12
In the dark
Women around the block
We dance hell. We are damoiselle. We bill coo. We commit taboo. We quietly commit. We never admit. We go object. We Appease submit.
A Glimpse
An Binh Pho, Grade 12
Bedtime at nine
lee arnold, Grade 10
Not too old to leave the three lullabies, And not too young to forget the four kisses and a hug.
When nightmares were solved with a promise, Of staying safe and sound and snug.
Ready to fake a question, Walk throughout a lengthy day. Just to keep us talking, Just so Mama can stay.
Still snuggled up next to all of my plushes, Keeping me safe, all in a line.
Feeling loved and cared for, This was bedtime at nine.
the little things
zero walker, Grade 9
I’ve realized that as I get older, the memories of my childhood slowly start to fade away. That doesn’t give me any discomfort, it brings me hope for what comes next. However, here’s what I do remember: I remember my mom ’ s old alarm clock - that sat on her heart-shaped nightstand, and doubled as a radio. Sometimes the radio stations played right after it went off, causing my mom to fumble with it, trying to shut it off and start her day. Then it suddenly disappeared. I never really think about it much, but it was an important aspect in my childhood.
I remember that underneath a shelf in my kitchen, just above the worn- out pink countertops, was a small TV. We would watch cartoons on it now and then, sometimes we would put DVDS into it to watch a movie, but that wasn’t often. Then that disappeared too. It had to get taken out because I didn’t work anymore, and there was no way to fix it. I don’t like to think about it much, because I really only watched one movie on it, but it still means something to me. Now there are some things I briefly remember, because I’m writing this.
Mushrooms
Bailey Gendron, Grade 9
One of those things was the nights where me and my brothers would inflate the air mattress, and sleep in the living room. We did that for fun, it was like a sleepover, except we actually lived together. My brothers would sleep on the couches, while I would be on the air mattress, sleeping with stuffed animals and the pillow I couldn’t live without. I think about it a lot. I wonder why we used to do that.
I’ll make more memories as I grow up of course, but will any of them be as special as these? In the end I really think that I will, because there is so much I haven’t done yet, and so much I want to do, but the real question is, will I ever have time to do it? Will I ever let go of the past, and move on to the future?
I wonder a lot of things, like if I’ll eventually lose track of time, or if these little memories will slip away, and be a thing of the past. I wonder if they’ll mean anything to me when I’m older, and I wonder if they’ll make me smile like they do now.
-Zero
Fgli
Jason murillo, Grade 12
I sit at my desk with a pencil
That has lost its tip from overuse,
Covered with eraser shavings that come
From all the mistakes I’ve made
The sight of me doing homework has not changed
Over these four years; I could be doing
Redox reactions, geometric proofs, A DBQ on Imperial China, and poetry analysis
I sit at my desk with my mind
That has lost its sharpness from burnout
My head lying on my desk from being tired
Of all this work I have to do
Though this sight has not changed, It is an unusual sight not seen over the years
Would anyone have imagined a person my skin color
Doing physics derivations and calculus problems?
I think of the viceroys and conquistadors in Latin America
And the French in Vietnam who would have made sure
People like me would veer far from a pencil
And a desk with a book on top
Though I wake up at 6 AM annoyed that I have to walk through those doors before 7:20 AM
The spirits of those who would’ve tried to stop me I know are infuriated that I have this opportunity
They hate that someone like me
Can differentiate
Can write at a college level
Can explain the workings of the human body
To be at a desk with a pencil
Overused because of the content
One has the opportunity to learn
Is a miracle that should not happen
Yet here I am,
Getting back to work.
Roots
Kaleth Morales Boria, Grade 11
The songs of the seasons
Madeline trombly, Grade 9
Coastal Connecticut shop
Where I’d wander in bliss
Summer’s promise of freedom
That I’ll always miss
Everybody wants to rule the world
As I walked in through that door
Spirits high and never going down
Life will never bore
Forgotten artifacts line the shelves
Handprints of kids who’ve grown
One day my stuff will be here
Waiting all alone
That night I walked all through the town
Like it belonged solely to me
Sat there at the lighthouse
Watching the fleeting sea
The morning is an early one
Out on the land
I face the sun ’ s wrath
Earn the blisters on my hands
I love the vineyard
Love the birds that sing
Try to be nurturing
While the tendrils cling
While the sun is still alive
I wander to the sea
Lie down on the scalding sand
Get my tan for free
Speakers blasting on the beach
My skin’s sunscreen glow
Hydrangeas all around this town
Places only I’ll know
Swings that squeak
Summer’s sweet old songs
Cracks in the pavement
Remain for all too long
But Seasons change
Time moves on
The echoes of those days are gone
When the wind is brisk
I’ll miss summer ’ s bliss
Months later I’ll return To my coastal store
Limited to long weekends When life is all a chore
I’ll step into the warmth of the store
The door shutting with a slam In there I hear
Last Christmas by Wham
Eric Cartman
Bailey Gendron, Grade 9
MY Paradise
Chloe williams, Grade 12
I want to go up there someday, I think as I lie on the soggy, dirty thing that could be called a blanket on the ground. My cousins and brothers surround me as we all collectively stare up at the light blinking at the top of the mountain adjacent. Their screams of joy as they play are distracting, but they do not deter my curiosity from the light. At that age, I thought it was a lighthouse, and it would take me years to realize that it was instead a cross. As soon as I learned of this, I begged and pleaded with my parents to take me, and from there sprouted the tradition to hike the 2-hour trek as a family every year.
Anyone who knows me is aware about my Swiss nationality. Whether or not I mean to, I talk about it a lot. My enthusiasm for sharing this with people mirrors how essential it is to who I am. But when I think about what parts of Switzerland I enjoy most, my mind always centers on the wonderful place called Gola di Lago. For as long as I can remember, the entirety of my mother’s family has gone to this cabin in Gola di Lago, Ticino for 2 weeks straight. This was my paradise. As kids, my cousins, brothers, and I would run around the center house probably around 100 times, flapping our arms and yelling while pretending to be dragons.
We would stare out from the windows in the dining room and watch the jagged streaks of lightning illuminate the landscape of mountains beyond. Have fresh, homemade pizza from the pizza oven in the already cramped kitchen. Even having to go outside to the single and tiny bathroom, whether it was pouring or if it was in the dead of night. It was in no way perfect; actually, it was quite the opposite. But that’s not what mattered to us.
Charming, definitely. Gorgeous, 100%. But what I love about it has nothing to do with the picturesque paths through the rocky terrain, or even the sound of cowbells and the smell of fresh mountain air. This is when I feel most at peace, and the most at home.
The best part however remained the hike to the Cross. If it was to be on a review blog, it would be described as a, “charming hike of a classic Swiss landscape, ending with a gorgeous view overlooking the city of Lugano”.
Until it wasn’t anymore. For years, dormice had been gradually inserting themselves into the walls and ceilings of the cabin. At first, it was a mere annoyance, but it quickly became a nuisance that made the house practically inhabitable: eating our food, leaving excretions all over the house. Come summer 2021, the weather had been awful in the first week and with the worsening dormice problem, the adults decided we had to leave a week early.
All of sudden, I realized what the situation meant. We wouldn’t be able to go back. All of those traditions were never to be repeated.
It has now been two summers since we left. I had a really hard time at first coping with the loss of such an important part of my life, but we have managed to make new traditions. We have rented another cabin in a small mountainous village called Champery; accrobranche, going out to dinner in the village, tennis in the mornings became our norm there. I have realized that while memories are crucial to my identity, the person that I am becoming is just as essential. One thing I am certain of though: I will always continue to approach experiences with the same hope and abundance of dreams as that little girl looking at the light in the distance, in her favorite place in the world.
Cherry Blossom
Kaleth Morales Boria, Grade 11
the essence of life
Rosalie Behi, Grade 10
The color brown: Brown is everywhere, the color of mother nature. It’s hues run rich and deep. Brown is autumn leaves that flutter like earth's loving embrace. Brown brings warmth, it covers me like a warm blanket. It is a comfort that stays with me like an old friend. Brown is a safe space to come back to. Brown is PEACE. Peace of mind like fine wine that shines like glittery di-amonds. Brown is everywhere.
The color orange: Orange is the color of the sun that shines radiant beams against a dark abyss. Orange is vibrant from monarch butterflies to Milvia roses. The color orange represents delight, Its golden hue is like a quiet ember glistening in the distance, it’s small but still fierce. This color harmonizes with the complexion of the earth. Orange eases the mind and brings warmth into the soul. Without orange the world would lose the beauty of liveliness.
He’s a snazzy TV head what can
I say
Nalani Cardenas, Grade 11
Harmony’s tapestry
Amita Klevanski, Grade 9
Colors blend, in brothers sight
Red danced with blue, their shades unite
A symbol draped in white’s embrace
The banner spun, in woven grace
It spreads through the verdant woods
Beyond the frosty neighborhoods
To the lands where warm sands blow
So many dyes, so hardly shown
Shades of turquoise, their skies embrace
Depths of bonds find secret space
Colors blend and intertwine
Their hues ignored, a hidden sign
Within the spectrums hidden veil
True friendship thrives, its knowledge frail
The colors blend in courtesy
Their loyal acts, a certainty
This is more than meets the eye
Alliance bond that soars on high
Through trials faced, through days and nights
Together they stand, a class of rights
Dear Icarus,
Shannon Dennehy, Grade 11
Beware of your ambition, For your fate is sealed with wax. To escape was the mission, But your freedom didn’t last.
You’re young, yet you desire, There are things that can’t be done. Stay away from the fire, And don’t fly too close to the sun.
Your arrogance is your downfall, And there is a price to pay. They watch out for the fool, Who falls to Earth astray.
