Relay for Life
The lights went off. We all stood silent on the track. Listening.
We looked around. There were luminaria lit up all around the track, to symbolize the spirits of those who had lost the battle, to show that they were with us. There were also some in the stands that were arranged to spell out the word "HOPE."
A speech. Then more silence.
If a parent of yours had died, they asked you to crack the glowstick you were given and step forward. The sound of glowsticks cracking filled our ears for a few brief seconds. It was like rain hitting the roof when a lone raincloud passes through. It takes you by surprise. Suddenly loud, then suddenly soft. Then silence again. You could see the yellow light emanate from random places in the crowd. Then the lights moved forward.
If a grandparent of yours had died, they asked you to crack your glowstick and step forward. Eyes down, I squeezed mine in both fists and asked Izzy to come with me. She nodded, cracked hers, and followed me forward.
Aunt and uncles. Other family members. Friends. People.
Eventually everyone stepped forward, demonstrating how it has affected all our lives.
Glowsticks in hand, we proceeded to walk around the track. Round and round. The longer we went, the more dispersed we became. We eventually filled the track, creating a halo of light. It undulated gently as people kept moving forward. Individually, the lights floated like fireflies in a meadow in summer.
I grasped mine close to me. Somehow, it suddenly felt like I was carrying something precious.
Eventually, we deposited the glowsticks in four "luminaria" boxes with cutout designs and words. As the light shone through, one could see that they read: Celebrate, Remember, Fight Back, and Hope. I debated for a moment. Then I placed mine in the second box and continued walking.
As I reached the other side of the track, people were still depositing their glowsticks. It was an interesting sight. There was no longer a halo. Instead, like the luminarias perched around the track, each light in each person's hand became a spirit in my eyes. And as the spirits floated and moved forward, they looked as if they were on a journey, our bodies used as vessels invisible in the darkness. Then as the lights finally disappeared, it seemed as if they had all crossed over. I looked down. We had just escorted the souls of the dead.
Eventually, Izzy and I followed others and removed ourselves from the group. I laid there on the campsite in the company of my teammates and looked up at the ceiling. I listened to the music. Then I closed my eyes as the complex slowly lit up and the event resumed.
We looked around. There were luminaria lit up all around the track, to symbolize the spirits of those who had lost the battle, to show that they were with us. There were also some in the stands that were arranged to spell out the word "HOPE."
A speech. Then more silence.
If a parent of yours had died, they asked you to crack the glowstick you were given and step forward. The sound of glowsticks cracking filled our ears for a few brief seconds. It was like rain hitting the roof when a lone raincloud passes through. It takes you by surprise. Suddenly loud, then suddenly soft. Then silence again. You could see the yellow light emanate from random places in the crowd. Then the lights moved forward.
If a grandparent of yours had died, they asked you to crack your glowstick and step forward. Eyes down, I squeezed mine in both fists and asked Izzy to come with me. She nodded, cracked hers, and followed me forward.
Aunt and uncles. Other family members. Friends. People.
Eventually everyone stepped forward, demonstrating how it has affected all our lives.
Glowsticks in hand, we proceeded to walk around the track. Round and round. The longer we went, the more dispersed we became. We eventually filled the track, creating a halo of light. It undulated gently as people kept moving forward. Individually, the lights floated like fireflies in a meadow in summer.
I grasped mine close to me. Somehow, it suddenly felt like I was carrying something precious.
Eventually, we deposited the glowsticks in four "luminaria" boxes with cutout designs and words. As the light shone through, one could see that they read: Celebrate, Remember, Fight Back, and Hope. I debated for a moment. Then I placed mine in the second box and continued walking.
As I reached the other side of the track, people were still depositing their glowsticks. It was an interesting sight. There was no longer a halo. Instead, like the luminarias perched around the track, each light in each person's hand became a spirit in my eyes. And as the spirits floated and moved forward, they looked as if they were on a journey, our bodies used as vessels invisible in the darkness. Then as the lights finally disappeared, it seemed as if they had all crossed over. I looked down. We had just escorted the souls of the dead.
Eventually, Izzy and I followed others and removed ourselves from the group. I laid there on the campsite in the company of my teammates and looked up at the ceiling. I listened to the music. Then I closed my eyes as the complex slowly lit up and the event resumed.
prism:
raindrops (thoughts)
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