Song: Michael Shulte - Thoughts
***
Seventeen. I can't believe I'm finally seventeen, I think to myself. The cool autumn air ripples through my hair as I sit on the back porch, letting the rising sun warm my skin. I pluck a pinch of my muffin off, popping it in my mouth.
My sister chuckles beside me. "Eleanor, why are you laughing?" I ask with a smirk, throwing a chunk of muffin at her.
She bats it away with ease. "For starters, it's six in the morning and here we are, sitting on the back porch freezing our asses off when you, Mitchell, should be getting ready for school," she says with a shiver, pulling her cardigan more tightly around her narrow shoulders.
I shake my head lightly. "You should've expected it. I mean, we do this every year on my birthday, don't we?" I snicker, elbowing her lightly in the ribcage.
"Well, yes. But I think this is the coldest it's ever been on your birthday." She rubs her hands together and shivers once more. Then, jokingly, she quips, "How old are you now anyway? I can't hardly keep track anymore."
"Five years younger than you," I say, "if you can still do that kind of math."
She slaps my arm playfully. "Oh ha-ha, very funny."
I laugh through my nose, and turn my attention back to the rising sun. Starting on my fifth birthday, my sister and I came up with this tradition: to sit out on the back porch and watch the sun rise. Even after she graduated. She was lucky enough to be accepted to a college only twenty minutes from where we live, and is able to stay at home. And so, the tradition stuck. Sure, it could be a little cold some years, being that my birthday falls mid-November, but neither of us have ever cared too much.
The sun casts a warm, golden glow across the backyard, illuminating everything it touches. The morning dew sparkles like diamonds nearly everywhere, blinding but yet beautiful. Even my navy blue hoodie seems to glow in an effervescent way, as does my sister's burgundy cardigan.
Eleanor leans her head back as she soaks in the early morning rays, and her long black hair falls steadily behind her as a soft smile plays on her lips. My sister really is beautiful, but I suppose I'm expected to think that as her brother. Regardless, I've always thought that anyone to love her as a partner would be a very lucky man indeed, but she says she's not interested in relationships. She says the only relationship she needs is the one with her scalpel and microscope. And as long as she can be a scientist, she's happy. And if she's happy, so am I.
But I, on the other hand, am quite the opposite. While Eleanor prefers to work behind the scenes so to speak, I prefer to be on the stage. Not exactly the most popular thing to dedicate all of my free time to. Most boys my age are on one of the school's sports teams or in a sports club, not participating in the high school's musical or drama club. But singing is what I want to do. I have no desire to throw people to the ground to try and grab a football. It seems pointless to me.
When I was younger, my dad always wanted me to play sports. But I was a shy kid, and I never had any interest in tackling other boys to the ground. Or being tackled, for that matter. Kicking a ball around or throwing one never excited me.
Nevertheless, my dad wasn't too upset when I told him I wanted voice lessons. He has always cheered me on. My mom was quite ecstatic when I told her. She always said, "It's good that you want to do something different." And I think she's right.
So, I smile into the sunrise. Happy with where my life currently is, and where it's headed.
Eleanor thumps me on the back. "All right, let's head inside. You can't skip school just because it's your birthday," she says as she stands, heading back inside. I take a gulp of the fresh air before standing and following her indoors.
