April 4th
by Alice Ramos
by Alice Ramos
April 4th, 1937
He was caught off guard when he saw her. The sight of her swaying to the smooth jazz, looking at the raindrops she was catching in her delicate hands, was the sight of pure freedom.
He had just started working at the underground bar and within the first five minutes had already had his first fight with his boss. He would soon learn his boss was seldom sober and, no, this was not a one time occasion. He would also realize that by the time he went back down the stairs his boss would no longer have any recollection of the last five minutes. When Denny made it up the steps and out of the first floor “restaurant”, he was sure glad for these unfortunate series of events.
The thought of his boss dissolved from his mind, as if he’d made sugar out of it and thrown it in the puddles of rain. Maybe it was Duke Ellington’s voice, or the light April rain. Maybe it was just her, but something came over him. Something almost instantly lifted his feet and moved his body. It was almost like his feet no longer touched the ground and she controlled his movements. They stepped towards one another and twirled away, until they were finally dancing together like magnets. There was no separation between them in that moment. They were not two separate people dancing, but one unit. Their worlds hadn’t collided because they had simply faded into one another.
April 4th, 1941
She wiped down the table as the static continued. As always, Denny was trying to fix the radio with his lucky screwdriver. “You should really stop tryin’ buddy”, Melanie said, attempting to convince him for the hundredth time this year. Just like clockwork, Ellington’s “Take the A Train”, blared out of the, now clear, speakers.
He came over, and gently taking the rag from her hand, paused to grin at her, as if an “I told you so”, was in order. As he threw the rag over his shoulder, Denny turned his wife towards him and bent down to kiss her pregnant belly. He pulled the four-karat diamond ring out of his pocket, as he promised he would when he proposed the first time with a plastic carnival ring.
“It’s about time for that upgrade, don’t ya think?”
April 4th, 1959 at 11:57 p.m.
“I know we always tell you this story, but…”, began Melanie on her twins’ 18th birthday.
“It was like she was meant to have that bottle of champagne to celebrate the anniversary of our bar, of us, and the beginning of you both.”, finished Denny.
They gave a half- awake hug and kiss to their parents, smiling as they went back to their rooms.
April 4th, 1971
The daughter cried for two reasons that day: her parents’ last day on this earth and her child’s first day.
April 4th, 1989
Alex stood outside of the bar, tipsy and alone. The rain was pouring and Norah Jones was performing her last opening act. The college bar was packed with gay men in flannel shirts, overly tight jeans, and glasses they didn’t actually need. He felt like the only one who wore regular clothes and wasn’t so preoccupied with trying to live an authentic life, since he chose to live life, not just think about living it.
As he swayed in the rain, lost in his own thoughts, he realized he wasn’t the only one lost in the music. It was a situation that usually would’ve embarrassed Alex, but for some reason the company of this stranger felt familiar and almost comforting. As the rain got harder, the laughter became louder than Jones’ melodies, and their dancing began to look more like synchronized steps in puddles. The hipsters inside, judged the laughing boys through the window, but they would never notice their glares, as the boys were too busy staring at each other.
They laughed through the set, slow danced as the crowd left, and fell in love as the night became day.
April 5th, 1989
Alex stumbled up the stairs with his coffee in one hand, his textbooks on top of the other, and his mail tucked into his mouth just enough so he didn’t drop it. Although it wasn’t a big deal, he was excited to open his own mail from his own mailbox. After struggling to find his keys and open the door to his apartment, Alex took a sip of his coffee, sat on his bed, and looked at the envelope. It was a regular white envelope with his mother’s address and a Chicago stamp. He opened the letter and in it, was a small folded piece of paper, and an old, stained letter. He unfolded the small piece of paper and a photo of his grandmother fell on his lap. She was young and making silly faces in what looked like a photo booth. He looked at the cut up strip with one single photo for a long time. Then, he saw his mother’s handwriting:
Alex,
Your grandmother told me to give this to my grandson or granddaughter when they turned 18, if she wasn’t here to do it herself. She also instructed me not to open it, since it doesn’t have my name on it. I have no idea what it says, but I hope it answers some things about her that I couldn’t answer for you. Mail it to your Aunt if she ever decides to have children. I love you and let me know how everything is in New York.
Love,
Mom
He carefully opened the sealed letter and saw the intricately written, faded, cursive ink. It read:
April 5th, 1941
Dear Future Grandchildren,
I just had your mothers at 11:57 and 11:59. Of course they were set on seeing the world just before our famous April 4th ended. I’m holding them as I write this letter to you because I’ve finally met my children and I already can’t wait to meet you. Denny says I tend to get ahead of myself, but personally I believe that to be a good thing. I know I’ll be here to tell my own children, but I don’t know if I’ll be there to tell you all the stories I want to. If I don’t get to meet you, I’d like to leave you with one lesson for your life.
The day I met your grandfather, I was looking for freedom. I had just turned 18 a few days ago and was ready to start my job at the local newspaper the next day. I knew I had a lot to prove and it would be hard, but it was my first time doing what I wanted to do, in the magical, windy city of Chicago. My parents always wanted me to have dreams, but when they realized these dreams would involve leaving the enclosed gates of the farm and our small town home in Illinois, I think they would much rather have had my dreams stay just dreams. Of course my stubborn self was not going to let this happen, so I packed all my things, gave them my friend’s mailing address, and headed up North. I felt that type of freedom that was thrilling and fun but also a tad wrong. It was the temporary high type of freedom.
Later, after taking pictures and drinking a bit too much at a bar with Sofie, the childhood friend I now lived with, I went outside. I wanted to see the lights of the city I would be exploring every day. I stepped outside and felt the raindrops fall on the palms of my hand and my face, washing the strong smell of whiskey away. It was as if the rain had made me sober. And then I realized I was not only dancing, but I was dancing with someone else. I saw how your grandfather moved with ease and how I surprisingly did too. We were dancing on air and water. This night, as magical as it was, is not why I fell in love with your grandfather.
I realized what true freedom was with him. I realized it was not a thrilling thing, but instead freedom is the peace you feel when everything feels right. Freedom wasn’t being alone and wild, it was what I now receive from and give to your grandfather.
The reason I am telling you this story, is that I don’t want you to be afraid to lose that temporary freedom. Who ever it may be, you’ll know when you have found your enduring freedom. Take it and give it.
Your Grandmother,
Melanie
Not knowing what else to say or do, Alex checked the date. Only later, did he realize that both of their beginnings had an ending. The start of a peaceful, long-lived freedom ended their wild, short-lived one. He later realized that life is the continuity of endings and beginnings.
He was caught off guard when he saw her. The sight of her swaying to the smooth jazz, looking at the raindrops she was catching in her delicate hands, was the sight of pure freedom.
He had just started working at the underground bar and within the first five minutes had already had his first fight with his boss. He would soon learn his boss was seldom sober and, no, this was not a one time occasion. He would also realize that by the time he went back down the stairs his boss would no longer have any recollection of the last five minutes. When Denny made it up the steps and out of the first floor “restaurant”, he was sure glad for these unfortunate series of events.
The thought of his boss dissolved from his mind, as if he’d made sugar out of it and thrown it in the puddles of rain. Maybe it was Duke Ellington’s voice, or the light April rain. Maybe it was just her, but something came over him. Something almost instantly lifted his feet and moved his body. It was almost like his feet no longer touched the ground and she controlled his movements. They stepped towards one another and twirled away, until they were finally dancing together like magnets. There was no separation between them in that moment. They were not two separate people dancing, but one unit. Their worlds hadn’t collided because they had simply faded into one another.
April 4th, 1941
She wiped down the table as the static continued. As always, Denny was trying to fix the radio with his lucky screwdriver. “You should really stop tryin’ buddy”, Melanie said, attempting to convince him for the hundredth time this year. Just like clockwork, Ellington’s “Take the A Train”, blared out of the, now clear, speakers.
He came over, and gently taking the rag from her hand, paused to grin at her, as if an “I told you so”, was in order. As he threw the rag over his shoulder, Denny turned his wife towards him and bent down to kiss her pregnant belly. He pulled the four-karat diamond ring out of his pocket, as he promised he would when he proposed the first time with a plastic carnival ring.
“It’s about time for that upgrade, don’t ya think?”
April 4th, 1959 at 11:57 p.m.
“I know we always tell you this story, but…”, began Melanie on her twins’ 18th birthday.
“It was like she was meant to have that bottle of champagne to celebrate the anniversary of our bar, of us, and the beginning of you both.”, finished Denny.
They gave a half- awake hug and kiss to their parents, smiling as they went back to their rooms.
April 4th, 1971
The daughter cried for two reasons that day: her parents’ last day on this earth and her child’s first day.
April 4th, 1989
Alex stood outside of the bar, tipsy and alone. The rain was pouring and Norah Jones was performing her last opening act. The college bar was packed with gay men in flannel shirts, overly tight jeans, and glasses they didn’t actually need. He felt like the only one who wore regular clothes and wasn’t so preoccupied with trying to live an authentic life, since he chose to live life, not just think about living it.
As he swayed in the rain, lost in his own thoughts, he realized he wasn’t the only one lost in the music. It was a situation that usually would’ve embarrassed Alex, but for some reason the company of this stranger felt familiar and almost comforting. As the rain got harder, the laughter became louder than Jones’ melodies, and their dancing began to look more like synchronized steps in puddles. The hipsters inside, judged the laughing boys through the window, but they would never notice their glares, as the boys were too busy staring at each other.
They laughed through the set, slow danced as the crowd left, and fell in love as the night became day.
April 5th, 1989
Alex stumbled up the stairs with his coffee in one hand, his textbooks on top of the other, and his mail tucked into his mouth just enough so he didn’t drop it. Although it wasn’t a big deal, he was excited to open his own mail from his own mailbox. After struggling to find his keys and open the door to his apartment, Alex took a sip of his coffee, sat on his bed, and looked at the envelope. It was a regular white envelope with his mother’s address and a Chicago stamp. He opened the letter and in it, was a small folded piece of paper, and an old, stained letter. He unfolded the small piece of paper and a photo of his grandmother fell on his lap. She was young and making silly faces in what looked like a photo booth. He looked at the cut up strip with one single photo for a long time. Then, he saw his mother’s handwriting:
Alex,
Your grandmother told me to give this to my grandson or granddaughter when they turned 18, if she wasn’t here to do it herself. She also instructed me not to open it, since it doesn’t have my name on it. I have no idea what it says, but I hope it answers some things about her that I couldn’t answer for you. Mail it to your Aunt if she ever decides to have children. I love you and let me know how everything is in New York.
Love,
Mom
He carefully opened the sealed letter and saw the intricately written, faded, cursive ink. It read:
April 5th, 1941
Dear Future Grandchildren,
I just had your mothers at 11:57 and 11:59. Of course they were set on seeing the world just before our famous April 4th ended. I’m holding them as I write this letter to you because I’ve finally met my children and I already can’t wait to meet you. Denny says I tend to get ahead of myself, but personally I believe that to be a good thing. I know I’ll be here to tell my own children, but I don’t know if I’ll be there to tell you all the stories I want to. If I don’t get to meet you, I’d like to leave you with one lesson for your life.
The day I met your grandfather, I was looking for freedom. I had just turned 18 a few days ago and was ready to start my job at the local newspaper the next day. I knew I had a lot to prove and it would be hard, but it was my first time doing what I wanted to do, in the magical, windy city of Chicago. My parents always wanted me to have dreams, but when they realized these dreams would involve leaving the enclosed gates of the farm and our small town home in Illinois, I think they would much rather have had my dreams stay just dreams. Of course my stubborn self was not going to let this happen, so I packed all my things, gave them my friend’s mailing address, and headed up North. I felt that type of freedom that was thrilling and fun but also a tad wrong. It was the temporary high type of freedom.
Later, after taking pictures and drinking a bit too much at a bar with Sofie, the childhood friend I now lived with, I went outside. I wanted to see the lights of the city I would be exploring every day. I stepped outside and felt the raindrops fall on the palms of my hand and my face, washing the strong smell of whiskey away. It was as if the rain had made me sober. And then I realized I was not only dancing, but I was dancing with someone else. I saw how your grandfather moved with ease and how I surprisingly did too. We were dancing on air and water. This night, as magical as it was, is not why I fell in love with your grandfather.
I realized what true freedom was with him. I realized it was not a thrilling thing, but instead freedom is the peace you feel when everything feels right. Freedom wasn’t being alone and wild, it was what I now receive from and give to your grandfather.
The reason I am telling you this story, is that I don’t want you to be afraid to lose that temporary freedom. Who ever it may be, you’ll know when you have found your enduring freedom. Take it and give it.
Your Grandmother,
Melanie
Not knowing what else to say or do, Alex checked the date. Only later, did he realize that both of their beginnings had an ending. The start of a peaceful, long-lived freedom ended their wild, short-lived one. He later realized that life is the continuity of endings and beginnings.
Alice Ramos is a senior at Urbana High School, intern for the Town Courier, and will be attending NYU this fall. She wants to double major in photojournalism and neuroscience. She loves spending time with her animals, taking pictures, reading books, and painting. She hopes to help many animals and humans throughout her life.
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