Driving by, it looks like an everyday suburban neighborhood: tree-lined streets aligned with parked cars and overshadowing houses. The occasional pedestrian will grace across the street, sometimes with a kid in tow. On the outside, the houses seem to be smiling from behind the well-groomed lawns of green.

As the days become longer and the nights become shorter, children, friends, and neighbors pour out of their homes to embrace the nice weather and socialize. The older neighbors share stories of their day, while the younger ones laugh and play. Even for those who have been living in the quaint suburban neighborhood for decades did not realize that the smallest places could hold the darkest secrets.

It all began late one summer evening. A few of the neighborhood children - regular playmates - gathered in one of their friend's backyard, ready for an adventure of their own. With plastic shovels too big for the young hands to grip, the group of five children began a synchronized dig into the fresh Earth. Being children, their play had no planned intentions, nor did they expect to unearth the mystery that lie just steps away from their homes.

With the last hint of sun peeking through the evening sky, the crickets' chirping began to overwhelm the children's laughter. They continued to dig. And dig. And dig. The backyard looked like a construction site, with mounds of dirt and pebbles scattered about. As night fell upon the summer day, the children were summoned home, leaving the bone-like cluster of white, brittle mass a mystery.

Commercial: My Sister's Keeper

Man of Steel

After a monthlong battle with the elements, it should have been set in stone that the small rural town wedged between sky-scraping mountains would not have to face any more hazardous weather conditions. Everyone from the close-knit community - the young, the elderly, the hardworking adults - could not imagine another day of heavy snow and blustering winds - the kind that could eat someone alive. The town was already tucked in by a white blanket of thick, packed snow. With each howling gust of the wind, a new drift of snow would avalanche off the surrounding mountains. While the town would lay silent and dead in trough the harsh winter, one creature would not let the weather take away his strength and dignity.

During each night of snow and wind, one family would be awakened by shuttering windows. The first time it occurred, the family jumped up to the sound and immediately drifted back to sleep, presuming it was simply the wind. By the second and third time, however, the family knew there was more than just mother nature startling them from their otherwise peaceful sleep. For days, the "knockknockknock" never seemed to stop, occurring at precisely the same time every night. As soon as news of this family's mysterious steel-like knocking reached the town, others started to report hearing a similar sound from inside their bedrooms as well.

According to an ancient legend, reports of hearing such sounds were not too uncommon for the small town of three generation families. Unlike the families who remained indoors through the treacherous winter, the futuristic man of made of steel was known to brave the winter weather outdoors, leaving town without a single scratch or complaint. As the end of winter neared, this silvery, heaven-like creature with the face of a man came to signal the town's families of the changing weather. His job was not to scare the townspeople. Rather, his job was to be the town hero.

To the town's relief, the snow began to melt, and the winds subsided, only gently blowing through the streets once in a while. The town regained its color, and the people started to flood out of their houses one by one to welcome the uplifting weather of the new season.

My Sister's Keeper

Although I despise fiction, from the recommendation of a friend, I chose to read Jodi Picoult's novel, My Sister's Keeper. So far, I have read about 3/4 of the book, which follows the lives of a terminally ill child, her parents, and the younger sister that is keeping her alive. Each "chapter" is written in the perspective of one of the characters; my least favorite character is the lawyer, Campbell, while my favorite character is the younger sister, Anna. While I like the plot of My Sister's Keeper very much, I still can not get past the fact that it is a fictional piece of literature.

Homecoming

Throw on your favorite pair of well-worn jeans and a comfortable t-shirt. This is what you always wear to school. Oblivious to your responsibilities, you notice the time: 8:15 am. First period's over, no point in walking a treacherous three blocks down the road to school now.

You'd rather head an extra two miles in the opposite direction; actually, make that an extra twenty-one miles. The city seems to be calling your name.

"Unintentionally" find yourself standing on the sunlit platform waiting for the next westbound train. Pace up and back, being careful not to cross the bumpy yellow line - or make eye contact with the homeless man grunting in the corner of the waiting shelter. You know he wants your money, but you want your money too. No money, no ticket. No ticket, no trip.

The eight car long train roars into the station, momentarily throwing you back onto your heels. You take the railroad's warning about the gap between the platform and the train into consideration, and take a ballerina-like over the gap through the open train doors. Your anticipation grows. As you roam up and down the aisle of the brightly-lit train car searching for the perfect seat your arm extends to a ninety degree angle. You run your index finger along the side of each and every turquoise and navy blue seat as you move along, your few belongings in tow.

The conductor shouts, "All tickets please. Hold all tickets." It is at this moment you realize why you really didn't go to school today - how would an animal activist like you be able to participate in your biology class' frog dissection lab? You're glad you spent those six dollars and twenty-five cents on the one-way train ticket. It is around noon, and you sympathize for those innocent little frogs that are losing their lives.

Catching your breath after climbing the mountain of steps, you finally reach daylight. You slowly turn your head to look up toward the sky to read the rectangular street sign overhead. 7th Avenue. Your heart starts to dance. You wait in the gutter to cross the street, letting the yellow cabs stagger in and out of the bustling traffic no more than six inches from your toes. You have always been a true New Yorker in spirit. The glittering lights excite but don't overwhelm you, while the smell of garbage-drenched streets mixed with freshly roasted nuts stimulates your senses. You glance down and regret the fact that you're wearing black-and-white canvas sneakers, blue denim jeans, and a run-of-the-mill white t-shirt - the most simple of outfits. Nevertheless, you continue to walk at a steady pace, heading south along 7th Avenue. The street seems to run on for an eternity.

You've finally arrived at your destination, miles from where you first began. By now you have come to realize that you were never cut out for the obnoxious, materialistic pitfalls of suburbia. And for the first time, you begin to walk to the beat of your own drum.

You've found yourself. Welcome home.

old room, new life

a bare room: plain walls and dull floors
with only one bed and one chair - this is no luxury suite;
the infamous scent of a sterilized hospital seeps through the door
into the small cubicle containing
a jumble of high-tech monitors as
the bed awaits the mother-to-be
and the adjacent chair sits empty for the father
as cheerful Spanish voices express their joy

in the minority: the "indigent ward"
by chance, not choice
as excitement grows amidst the tension
of bringing life - rejuvenation -
to lighten up the drab room
and the family that patiently waits
through the ups and downs
until the arrival of the son
thought to never come

Marley & Me by John Grogan

How to Become a Vegetarian

Take a break. Take a long, fulfilling break. A break from your everyday, morning-to-night life. Wait a few minutes. Wait a few days. Maybe even a few weeks. Or a few months. But, whatever you do, don't give up.

Remember your childhood. Think of the pets from your past. The fish that died after one short day. The dog who was your lifelong best friend. Dig up old memories. If it helps, look at the innocent photographs. Whisper to yourself, "How could I?" Bow your head in shame, and continue on your journey. Keep the tarnished images and fading heartbreak fresh in your mind. Keep all that you've seen with you - the good, the bad.

Listen to what your mother told you. Take a second look. Another glance. Those green veggies never killed you.