Creative Writing: Soul Sisters

Creative Writing: Soul Sisters

Chapter 7 of 8

It was a week later— February 4. My eighteenth birthday. London’s seventeenth birthday. The day of my surgery. I woke up at six o’clock in the morning, text London her annual birthday paragraph, and told her I would see her in a little while. She responded within seconds with an even longer birthday paragraph for me. It made me smile from ear-to-ear, and for a second, I forgot what that day had in store for the both of us.

My mom and I arrived at the hospital around six-thirty, and by seven, London and her parents got there. (London would be receiving her bone marrow transplant in the span over next few days. The doctors were not sure exactly when yet, but they knew they wanted to do it as soon as they could.) There was a little bit of time before I had to get prepped for surgery, so, for a little while, the five of us just sat around and talked, as if everything was normal and nothing was wrong. It made me happy to feel that way, despite the fact that it only lasted for a short period of time.

At seven-thirty, the nurses came in and told us that it was time to get me ready for my surgery, which would begin shortly, and politely asked everyone to leave the room. Mr. and Mrs. Scott came over to me first.

“Paris, we could never thank you enough for what you are doing for our daughter. You are such an incredible young lady. We love you as if you were our own.”

“There is no need at all to thank me,” I said, “I love you guys, too.”

Then, my mom. She had tears in her eyes.

“Love, I have been proud of you many times throughout your life, you know that. But I have never been as proud of you as I am right now.”

She kissed my cheek.

“Love you, mom.”

“I love you more, sweetheart.”

Finally, London.

“I know they have to start, so I am going to make this short,” she began, “Paris, you are truly the best friend anyone could ask for. Especially in these past few weeks, I have realized how lucky I am to have you in my life. I have no idea what I would do without you. Love you, soul sister.”

“Love you soul sister” I said back.

She left. It was time.

“Okay, babydoll,” the nurse said, “are you ready?”

I saw the anesthesia mask in her hand. My stomach felt like it was in knots.

“Yes.” I automatically responded, not letting myself think about it.

I laid back and closed my eyes. As I began counting down from one hundred, I saw my dad with that same, huge smile on his face. He winked and gave me a thumbs-up. I instantaneously relaxed, and knew that everything was going to be alright. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

Cover Image Credit: Wallpapers Wide

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I'm A Woman And You Can't Convince Me Breastfeeding In Public Is OK In 2019

Sorry, not sorry.


Lately, I have seen so many people going off on social media about how people shouldn't be upset with mothers breastfeeding in public. You know what? I disagree.

There's a huge difference between being modest while breastfeeding and just being straight up careless, trashy and disrespectful to those around you. Why don't you try popping out a boob without a baby attached to it and see how long it takes for you to get arrested for public indecency? Strange how that works, right?

So many people talking about it bring up the point of how we shouldn't "sexualize" breastfeeding and seeing a woman's breasts while doing so. Actually, all of these people are missing the point. It's not sexual, it's just purely immodest and disrespectful.

If you see a girl in a shirt cut too low, you call her a slut. If you see a celebrity post a nude photo, you call them immodest and a terrible role model. What makes you think that pulling out a breast in the middle of public is different, regardless of what you're doing with it?

If I'm eating in a restaurant, I would be disgusted if the person at the table next to me had their bare feet out while they were eating. It's just not appropriate. Neither is pulling out your breast for the entire general public to see.

Nobody asked you to put a blanket over your kid's head to feed them. Nobody asked you to go feed them in a dirty bathroom. But you don't need to basically be topless to feed your kid. Growing up, I watched my mom feed my younger siblings in public. She never shied away from it, but the way she did it was always tasteful and never drew attention. She would cover herself up while doing it. She would make sure that nothing inappropriate could be seen. She was lowkey about it.

Mindblowing, right? Wait, you can actually breastfeed in public and not have to show everyone what you're doing? What a revolutionary idea!

There is nothing wrong with feeding your baby. It's something you need to do, it's a part of life. But there is definitely something wrong with thinking it's fine to expose yourself to the entire world while doing it. Nobody wants to see it. Nobody cares if you're feeding your kid. Nobody cares if you're trying to make some sort of weird "feminist" statement by showing them your boobs.

Cover up. Be modest. Be mindful. Be respectful. Don't want to see my boobs? Good, I don't want to see yours either. Hard to believe, I know.

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To The Friend That Says 'Text Me When You Get Home Safely'

It's more than just a salutation.


I had a great time when we went out last night. We dressed in our best attire and danced the night away and laughed until sprite came out your nose (I won't let that slide, by the way). It was one of the best nights we had in a while. I dropped you back at your house and right before you closed the passenger door you said

"Text me when you get home safe."

I cheerfully replied that I would and drove off into the night. I had a smooth drive home and as soon as I hit my bedroom door, my tight dress came off and my flannel pants and a cotton t-shirt went on. I wiped all of my makeup off tied my hair up and hit the sheets. When I awoke, I got your message

-3:30 am "You Home?"

I had forgotten to text back

Here it is. The 11:30 am "Yes I did, did you sleep well?"

I normally go on about my day, thinking that my forgetfulness was an honest mistake. However, today hit differently.

What if I couldn't text you at all? What if I never opened your message? What if those were the last words you said to me? What if I didn't get home safe?

Reflecting on this small gesture shows exactly how much life could change in the blink of an eye. I realized to never take that text lightly and reminded my self to say the same when they depart.

Dear friend, I'm sorry I took that message for granted.

Those seven words are words of reassurance.

Those seven words are words of pure care and safety.

I'm sorry that I didn't text back leaving you in wonderment for 8 hours.

I'm so glad that last night wasn't the last night.

I will honor your sweet reminder

I am truly grateful for you.

Friends that say that shouldn't be taken for granted.

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