Sam_An analogy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Life can get bad, but for this 17 year old it went way beyond that.

Submitted: November 17, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 17, 2009




Life is a funny thing. I mean, one day you are so sure you have it all figured out, then wham, something or someone comes along and shows you that you don't. That you weren't even close. And when that happens, the only thing left to do is take a step back, take a close hard look at what you think you know, then start all over again. This is what I did when I first met Sam.

And when we met, we quickly became friends. And as time passed, and our friendship grew, and I learned more and more about her, I came to realize just how hard her life had been and still is in many ways.

I further come to understand that the physical and emotional abuses that she has suffered in her life at the hands of those who were close to her, and still mentally does to a certain existent, has tainted her view of herself, so much so, that she thinks herself worthless and worthy of death, yes it has been that bad for her.

She also suffered from a fuzzy, diminished view of her future, meaning, she didn't necessarily see one for herself, who could really blame her. This was even though she was only seventeen and still had a bright future ahead of her, or so I believe.

So, upon hearing all of this, and without says, I was touched with a deep sense of sadness, which in turn, inspired me to write this short story about her life as I know it. And so, I dedicate this to her. May her life be everything she has ever wanted and more.

A Message for Sam

Sam, knowing what has happened to you, and yet you still remain a caring, loving person, has amazed and changed me forever. I can only hope to be half the person you are. You are truly someone special.

And Sam, I thank you for your friendship. I also thank you for sharing your story with me no matter how difficult it was for you to do. You doing so has left me humble and grateful. You are a very courageous person for doing so, and I applaud you for that.

Friends forever Sam.


And now, I present to you: Sam (An Analogy)


(An Analogy)

On the night that Sam nearly passed on the world wept and I wept with it.

It was an ordinary night, on that night, just as common as the many nights that had come before it. The moon was full and bright, and hung restfully in the black cloudless sky. And the stars, companions of the moon, hung there too, sprinkling silver glitter upon the deep dark ocean that surrounded the small secluded island I call my home.

And it was on this island, on this cool late night, that I was doing my usual thing, which was sitting in the back yard, on one of my patio chairs, looking out over the island, taking in its scenic view as I did. And while doing so, I became consciously aware that I hadn’t, for a longest time, visited Sam.

So, with this in mind, I slowly stood up and casually walked over to my fence, a few feet away, then glanced down over the cliff side, and sure enough, there she was the only flower to ever grow on this island, and she was having a hard go of it to.

This was basically do to the fact that life had decided to randomly place her in a rocky, colorless, cruel patch of dead land that was filled with worthless, gluttonous weeds. Weeds that crept in and surrounded her, strangling her, trying to steal all that she was or ever would be. It was the one spot on this gloriously constructed island that no person or thing would ever want to call home, but nonetheless, there she was bringing beauty to an otherwise desolate place.

I thought about that for the longest time as I stood there admiring Sam, the name I had selected for her on the day we first met. I thought about how strong she was and how she was doing her very best to handle the cards that life had dealt to her. And as I thought about these things, I wondered if I could somehow ease her hardship just a little bit. If I could, give her a chance to escape from all of those lifeless weeds and rocks that would eventually crowd in and kill her if she were left in their hands for to long. Weeds and rocks that purposely went out of their way to cause as much misery and suffering to her as they could.

I further wondered if there was some way to alleviate the suffocating fear of living that way as she no doubt felt, and has felt her entire life, so that she could freely breathe in, without contention or strife, the morning air which brings with it a sweet taste of dew that she could lightly feel on her lips.

If I could somehow do this for her, set her loose forever from that kind of a life, a life that now binds her to a future full of turmoil, a life she has never deserved, then what a grand gift that would be. A gift that she would delight in for an eternity I assumed.

And why not do this for her, I thought. After all, if I didn’t do it, then who would? And besides, isn’t this what friends are for? And oh, what a friend she has been. I mean if, one friend is in trouble, doesn’t another come to the rescue? And if one friend is hurting inside, doesn’t another hurt as well?

Yes,” I told myself as I hurried into the house, into my kitchen, and retrieved my small black-handled spade from under the sink, the sharpest one of the three I owned, then quickly started back to the fence.

And upon arriving there, I climbed over it, then made my way down the steep cliff side, ten feet or so, and securely anchored myself near her. I then began to gently, very gently, dig around her thin little stem, removing all of the wasted matter that was pressing in hard against her. And as I did, I stayed completely focused, unbending in my quest to free her once and for all.

I must say, as I slowly worked to free her, everything was going rather well, that was until I looked away. And in that one monumental moment that I did, I cut to deep, pushed a tad bit to hard, and knifed right through her, leaving her and some of her roots bleeding in my hand.

This is when my soul, once filled with joy and happiness, went dark, cold, and numb, causing the tears drenched in sadness to come flowing forth from my unbelieving eyes. It was also the exact moment that I could hear the moon, the great ocean, and the once gleeful green meadow weeping as well. It seemed as if the whole world was now in the clutches of a thick misty blanket of gloom.

What had I done, I thought as sorrow gripped my heart. Instead of saving her, I had wounded her fatally. It wasn’t meant to be like this. But then I realized, as my hand holding her shook, it didn’t have to be this way. If I could get back to my house I could still save her.

It was about then, as an intense, newly found swell of optimistic energy blossomed inside of me, that I began to rapidly climb, pounding my boots deep into the rock bed, taking my frustration and disgust out on it with each heavy blow. And as I did, I carefully, tenderly carried Sam up with me.

No one or nothing will ever hurt you again,” I whispered to her as I climbed. Not even me, I said to myself as I reached the fence again and scrambled over it in haste. I then bolted for the house.

And once I had reached it, and was inside, I placed Sam on a clean soft cotton towel I kept nearby, then feverishly rushed into the pantry where I collected a bag of rich planting soil and my one and only pot. I then raced back into the kitchen and placed them both on the counter where I began to open the bag. But just as I tugged on the sealing strip to open it, my elbow struck the pot, and down it went crashing to the ground, breaking into fragments as it landed.

The reality of what I had just did was slow in the coming, but when it did come, the tremendous impact of it sent me tumbling back into a chair with my hands place firmly over my face.

This time it was over for good, I thought. I had nothing left to create a new world for Sam, and she was to hurt, to weak, and to fragile to endure the harsh conditions of outside, this I instinctively knew. I grew deathly quiet.

It was then, through the silence, that I heard a scratching sound coming from my screen door and looked up to see what was causing it. And to my surprise, when I did, I saw a large black bear. He was just standing there staring at me.

I was staring to, not really capable of doing anything else, as if I were frozen in place and time, but that all changed a few fleeting moments later when he began to speak, it was truly beyond amazing.

Sam. Where is she?” He asked. “I have come to see her but she's not there. She’s my friend, and I'm worry about her.”

She’s your friend?” I asked him, astonished we were even having this conversation.

Yes. She feeds me.”

Feeds you? How?” I asked.

By feeding the bees that make my honey. Now speak up human. Where is Sam?” His question saddened me.

She’s in here,” I sadly proclaimed. “I...I...tried to save her, but instead I fear I have killed her. She’s my friend also. What will I do when she is gone? She has always brightened up my day, and has always put a big smile on my face whenever I see her.”

The bear looked away, then back at me.

You tried to save her? From what human?” He asked.

From the tormented life she was living,” I replied. “But instead of releasing her from that, I have condemned her to death. I have no pot to put her in now. I have broken the last one I have. The last one to be found for thousands of miles. I do have soil, rich delicious soil, but it is useless without a pot.”

The bear looked down, notably upset over what he had heard, then looked up at me and said, “Maybe they can help.” He was now gazing passed my shoulder as he said it. I stared back to.

They?” I asked, turning back around to face him again. “Are you sure they can?” I further inquired. I was grasping at straws now.

Yes,” the bear countered. “They are her friends too. When it rains, she catches water for them. Surly, they can help us.”

I shrug in disbelief, then turned and open the small window. And as I did, one of the two small robins hovering there asked, “Where is Sam? Is she alright?”

Yes. Is she alright?” The other repeated.

I again was saddened by the question.

No. No she isn't. She’s in here dying and I can't stop it,” I replied. “I have no pot to put her in, and she needs one to continue to survive.”

The first robin smiled when I said that, and replied, “then we will make her one.”

Yes, we can do that,” the second one added.

But how can you?” I asked them both.

We can,” the first one replied. “Just you wait and see.” He then rapidly flew away.

And how about you. Shouldn't you go with him?” I asked the remaining one.

No,” he said with a smile. “My brother is faster than I. I will stay with her.”

I nodded that I understood, then leaned back in my chair and waited, hoping, no praying really, that they could do what they said. I didn't have to wait long.

For as soon as I glanced over at Sam, and stroked one of her slowly wilting petals, he had returned, and with him, he had brought an army. In fact, there were so many little robins swarming around in my kitchen, going in and out of the window, that I could hardly see anything at all but them.

What is going on?” I asked to one swooping by me with a small twig hanging out of his mouth.” I got no answer. So I looked in the direction of the bear, whom I could hardly see, and asked him the same question.

After using a big hairy paw to open the screen door, he replied: “They are building her a new home. And they are using the broken pieces of the pot to do it.”

I bend down close to the floor and looked, indeed they were. They were creating a new pot, in the form of a nest, right before my very eyes. And they were doing it with unimaginable speed and superior teamwork. It left me in awe.

How could this be I thought as I watched them quickly weave small dry branches, mud, and pot shards together. It was truly unbelievable. Almost as unbelievable as the time it took for them to do it, which amounted to no more then a few minutes.

And when they had completed the task, I quickly picked up the pot and set it on the table before me, then filled it all the way up with the good stuff. I then dug a small hole in the center of it, and with care, gingerly placed Sam in, roots first, making sure to firmly pack the rich, life-giving soil around her after I did.

Well, now we wait,” I said, nervously glancing at the bear. He glanced back at me, then rest his head on his front paws.


Six months later, on a breezy cool night, I was outside doing my usual thing, that being, sitting in my backyard, on one of my patio chairs, looking out over the island, taking in the beautiful view. And as I did, a single warm tear fell from the corner of one of my eyes.

Are you alright?” the bear asked. He was resting on a patch of green grass near my feet.

Yes,” I responded.

Then why the tear?” He further inquired. I didn't reply, but instead glanced at the table where one of my elbows rested. And it was here, not more then six inches away, that Sam's pot was situated, and in it was Sam. She looked stronger than I had ever seen her before, and she looked as if she was enjoying her new world, her new life. She was just beaming and abundantly colorful. And next to her, in the same soil, there was another. It was a little one who looked every bit like his mother. He had the same yellow petals, and the same slender green stem. And like his mother, he had his petals stretched out, freely soaking in the crisp night air.

I watched them for a moment, loving one another as a family should, then looked back down at the bear and said:Why, the tear.”

The bear smiled.

"Yes, why the tear?”

I smiled back.

"Because my friend, she is happy,” I replied. “Just because she's happy.”

I then smiled once more, and with that, I took a final sip of my hot tea, propped my feet comfortably up on another chair sitting across from me, then slothfully drifted off to sleep, feeling that once more, all was right with the world again.


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