That feeling you get when your heart is sinking slowly from your chest to your stomach, like watching the little plastic hourglass you got from a trip to the dentist measuring not the time it takes to brush your teeth, but the seconds you feel you have left to return a favor you could never thank someone enough for.

I snapped myself out of thinking about what pains me the most immediately as the coffee I ordered was slammed onto the counter in front of me, and the stuck up little waitress slapped the bill down directly beside it, so I could not order anything else. It did take me an hour to order my beverage, but that was because I was waiting for my parents. I had hoped they would see me through the plastic cafe blinds, and that would have caused them to open the small door , allowing the bells to chime to inform the staff that they have new customers.

I had endless questions for them to answer, like, I don’t know, why they left me to grow up alone without any explanation. As bacon fried in the background, I had to pop my own thought bubble, and struggled to find pennies in my pockets so I did not have to wait for my change to be placed politely on the counter like my coffee was. Before I left, I checked my pockets again for the polaroid of David and I when were kids in front of the same cafe I am currently inside. I asked myself why some people take their personal problems out on others, and not targeting anyone in particular but that waitress was not exactly what I would call rainbows and cupcakes. Having two sides to every argument, I realized that I am just as guilty by not verbalizing my issues, and instead I let them build up inside me, and that is exactly what can cause a person to fall apart.

I have based the last few years of my life trying to find the sole reason why my hearts still pounding and I'm still breathing. My grandmother who is supposed to be my parental guardian is slowing down with age, so the dynamic has changed to me taking care of her most of the time. I do not mind being the leader of this household, though I breakdown completely at the thought that when my grandmother does pass away it will be just me in this house I grew up in providing for myself. The strength in my grandmother’s smile makes me wonder if I will end up to be half of the woman she is, but at the same time I have a feeling that she is keeping information from me that could change my life for better or for worse.

There are no televisions in our small house, so the only way I could get global news was from that cafe in the middle of the town. I do not like to spend my time there, but no matter where I am I cannot escape reality.

It was a usual Monday morning, and I waited for David on my front porch steps. He had been my neighbor since we were little, and he would walk with me to school everyday. We probably walked to school together for four years because we were too young to walk alone before high school, and I would not take back any of that time with him. One of those days stuck out to me, and that was the day we took the route through town to get to school. David asked me if I wanted to stop in and grab a coffee before class, but I told him I never wanted to drink coffee again. I think he was confused, and he definitely knew there was something emotionally wrong with me as a teenage girl, like there was a piece to my puzzle I would never be able to obtain to become complete. He was way too much of a gentlemen to point out my flaws, so instead he would say to me, “Charlotte all females are emotional at times, you’re just having a bad day”, and this is just my interpretation of how great of a human being he is, but he knew everyone had imperfections so he did not target mine. I felt normal with him, more so than with anyone else, and to ruin my moment of clarification when I knew I had feelings for him, it was that exact walk to school that I learned some heartbreaking information. The television in the window of the cafe portrayed a breaking news headline that stated:

American Couple Held Hostage In Syria

As the news broadcast went on and they revealed more information, there was no way I could talk myself out of believing it was not my parents. I thought again, what are the odds that it would be them with all of the people living in the United States? That night I forced my grandmother to tell me everything she knew about this situation as I entered the front door after school. My eyes said everything to her, almost like the way I glared expressed a feeling of pure sadness. She told me helplessly that my parents were incredibly adventurous, and no place was considered dangerous enough for them to visit. When I thought about it, they would risk their lives in countries with malicious people just so I would not discover where they were currently hiding. My grandmother gripped my hand tightly when she told me they never wanted a child, and she faced the wall as those words left her lips because I knew she could not bear to look at me. She said when I was born they moved out of the United States immediately and they have been nomadic all seventeen years of my life, and they will end their quest of avoidance in Syria. I do not know if I am happy or angry that I know they are alive and being held hostage under a foreign country’s government, but to find out you were a mistake brought into this world leaves you with this haunting feeling that would rather not be alive anymore.

Words like those stick with you, and everyday feels like you have just been told. More terrifying news arrived when I found out that David was drafted into the army. A sudden decision, that would forever change both my life and take his. He sent letters as often as he was allowed to do so. His most recent one said he was going to be stationed in Syria for the next couple of months. All I could bring myself to respond back with was, “Do not get involved with my parents' situation” because I believed the words “I love You” were mean’t to say in person. I took that he followed my advice when he did not write back for the longest time. When you are in the army, that can only mean one thing when you do not respond regularly like you are supposed to.

My grandmother was not doing well, and I tried to come home as often as I could from college now to be with her. When we were together one night she pointed at a letter on the kitchen table. The address was from where David would send his letters and i began to cry nervously. Reading the ink became difficult as it smudged from my tears when I saw who signed the letter. Even though it was his job to risk his life to protect his country's people, David died revealing information that my parents would never admit to. Pretending they do not have a child, fleeing the country, and hiding me with my grandmother is something I will never forgive them for. I had just learned that the reason I am safe is because David gave up his life for me, and not once did he second guess himself on what he was doing. You take on a whole other perspective of being thankful when something like that happens to you. What is missing in my life is not there for a reason, and I believe that it is for the better and for the worse. But if you took the time to look in the mirror, your eyes are just the lenses to two unique spherical globes, because to the world you may be one person, but to one person you maybe the world, and I would like to thank whoever the unknown author is for those lovely words of wisdom. I am not broken anymore, and I have decided to start a new semester in college next fall, and I made myself a fresh cup of coffee this morning to signify my new independence. The multiple missing puzzle pieces in my life make me who I am, and I let David take the missing pieces to heaven, because I have that polaroid of us that signifies forever, and even though I am incomplete all of the time, I can be completely happy knowing parts of me are with him.