me

Hi I'm Rebekah Skweres. I'm the tomboy and the only one in the family. I like the color blue and try to play basketball. I have two twin brothers and an older sister. I have a mom and dad with grandparents that live on my street. My pet  amount  is two. I have a cat and rabbit. I love electronics and reading. Ductape is what I use for  a lot of things. I'm the only girl in my house that HATES make-up. This is a list about ME! 

Farewell Thirteen

House is dark
Quiet
Peaceful
Soft glows envelope
The walls
Furniture
Like a warm blanket
Popping through darkness
Beautiful shadows


My favorite time
Alone
So rare
My selfish thoughts
They come
Unbridled
Unpredictable
A cacophony of words and images
Flash through memory
Nostalgic gratification


Through the pages
Life
Time
Carry me grudgingly
Destinations traveled
Before
Again
The book opens but a moment
Searching for meaning
I surrender


Translating tales of
Childhood
Catechism
Both affliction and tonicity
Recurrently visit
Brief
Unfortunate
Always on my feet
Whether walking
Resolutely running


I'm left pondering
Choices
Circumstances
Weaving in and out
Life's tapestry
Auspicious
Portentous
The future sits in waiting
Watching each episode
Smiling. Hopeful.


Asking...what will fourteen be?

3-YEAR-OLD-TWINS

TROUBLE TROUBLE TROUBLE

BIRTHDAY : NOVEMBER 18, 2009

AGE : 3 YEARS OLD ( FOR NOW )

TROUBLES : ALL THE TIME AND NEVER WITHOUT ONE

ANNOYING? : YES VERY ANNOYING

ANY OTHER STUFF TO TELL? : I DONT KNOW ALL I KNOW IS THAT YOU SHOULD NOT MEET THEM AND IF YOU DO, YOU ARE GOING TO WISH YOU NEVER DID

ARE YOU UP FOR IT? : ------------------------------------------------------

The Bus Stop By : Cassandra Skweres : Literary Arts Major

the brown, old door opened with a CREEK. our footsteps hitting the wood and then concrete with a THUMP THUMP THUMP. it was still, quiet, and lonley. we opened the car doors. SCREECH - it seemed to yell. the engine was roaring, almost as if it were frightened. the cool breeze of wind hit my face. the tears in my eyes, fell from my eyes down to my cheek and froze, being a small crystal hidden in giant flowers. the car roared again. the beast ran down the street, while i ate delicious, cheesey, cresent rulls. as i approuch my bus stop with a THUD, the big, yellow bus arrives. its red, glittery lights catch my eye in a glimpse. i get on, feeling very safe. ;-)

The Journey by Rebekah Skweres

     Ouch! I fell and was now bleeding. I went hiking on a mountain and in a forest; but the path went away slowly without me knowing.
     All of a sudden I saw a swarm of peacocks, and they sang with the other wonderful birds. I also saw rabbits sniffing flowers. I was amazed.
     I traveled a while longer until something great happened. I found the path. Only thing was there was tracks of a tiger. I did it. I followed the path. Then I saw a fox. It's tail was fizzled up. I helped it.
     The next half hour my hair was so messed up. It was now the afternoon. I was scared out of my mind of what I saw next.
     It was a tiger. It's yellow eyes glowed. "MEOW" was what came out. Suddenly it was my cat. "I know you're hungry. " I said.
     After a couple minutes we were back in the yard left to our imaginations!

She - Me - We

 

Athletic as a tiger,

She really is a fighter.

She is my very best friend.

 

Super fast as a cheetah,

You really gotta meet her.

She is my very best friend.

 

Blond hair riding in the the wind,

She and me are twins.

She is my very best friend.

 

We met in first grade,

She has grown on me like a braid.

Wore a wavy, red dress,

It really was the best.

Tall like a tree,

Stings my attention like a bee.

Thin as a thread,

Loves NOT to go to bed.

She is my very best friend.

 

The classroom,

Filled with brooms.  

 A bright-green chalkboard,

We are a cored.

She is my very best friend.

 

The calender - in all different colors,

I come when she holours.

She is my very best friend.

 

One huge, rectangular sheet,  

Surrounded by small, little feet.

She is my very best friend.

 

There she awaits,

In the United States.

There she plays,

In the old'n days.

There she stands,

In my golden bands.

There she sees -

ME

 

She is my umbrella on a rainy day,

My coco after a cold winter's play,

My ocean breeze on a summer's bay.

She is my very best friend!

 

I dedicate this poem to my very best friend, Lea Pallof.

Feeling Forty

I was born in August of 1973; hot, humid, and breathless, the sound of a symphony of cicadas singing in the distance.  I remember hating my birthday as a child. I was the only kid in my Elementary school that didn’t get to celebrate her special day with the class.  The first day always seemed to coincide with the week following my birthday. Which meant that all those cute cupcakes, smothered in pink and purple icing and situated temptingly behind the glass at the Giant Eagle bakery, would never hear my classmates chant “Happy Birthday Kellie” before they were eaten, crumbs falling all over the tops of black and white writing notebooks.  As I got older though, my birthdays got much better.  After becoming a teacher, my birthday auspiciously fell during my summer vacation, which allowed for “partying” in style without the worry of the clean-up or the hangover the next day.  In fact, I’ve loved every birthday since.  Until this year.  Until my 40^th birthday.  For some reason, I just couldn’t get happy about it. 

It wasn’t the idea of “getting old;” I didn’t feel any older, to be honest.  It wasn’t that I was a mother with four kids; I’m not the typical mom with four kids (there aren’t a single pair of “mom jeans” in my entire wardrobe).  What was it, then?  The day has come and gone and I still can’t say for sure.  But I think it has something to do with regret.  So the question is, what do I regret?

I regret that I was never popular.  I spent most my youth wishing that I looked like someone else,  dressed like someone else, moved like someone else…wishing that I was someone else. At forty, I’ve finally reached the point in my life where I’m comfortable with who and what I am.  But what about all the time I spent wanting to be different?  I can never have those days back.  They’re gone forever, just like my Jordache jeans and Swatch watch collection, never to be seen again. 

I regret that I didn’t take better care of myself.  I used to be obese.  I weighed about one hundred and twenty-five pounds in 4^th grade. Because of my size,  I missed out on being a cheerleader, playing basketball and softball, and wearing the spandex mini-skirts and Daisy-Dukes that all my other friends enjoyed.  By high school, most of my pre-teen weight was gone, but by then, the damage was done.  My weight has been a battle ever since and I’ve continued to fight it, even as an adult; I’ve never looked in the mirror and seen a flat stomach or a tiny waist or long legs.  Things might have been different though, if I’d made some different choices.  I wish there’d been a time when I was able to look at myself in a bikini and like the reflection looking back at me.

Finally, I regret that I didn’t go more places.  As a child, we took many vacations as a family.  We went to places like Lake Erie and Virginia Beach and Amusement parks such as Cedar Point and Sea World.  But in 1980, after my Dad lost his job at U.S. Steel, all that changed.  We didn’t have the money to take family vacations any more.  Later, when I went to college, I chose to live at home to save on my student loans.  I never joined a sorority or traveled to Florida for Spring Break.  I did, however, graduate Magna cum Laude from the University of Pittsburgh; I got hired as a teacher right out of college, and I now make close to a six figure salary.  By most measures, I’m a success.  Nevertheless, sometimes I wish I would’ve taken the time to visit England, Ireland, Italy, Las Vagas…places that now seem not only exotic, but out of reach.  With four kids it will be a long time before I’ll be able to see these places again.

This is how I felt the morning of August 24^th, 2013. I felt like the sands of time were swallowing me up, like I was swimming upstream in an hourglass.  I walked through most of the day in a fog.  When my family suggested going to dinner, I reluctantly agreed.  I knew I had to go, but didn’t feel much like celebrating.  I just wanted to be alone.  To wallow in my melancholy undisturbed.  We headed towards the rear of the restaurant as I held my eldest toddler in my arms; the other marched in tow.  My daughters were in the lead and then suddenly disappeared.  I barely heard the “surprise” coming from the back of the room, where tables filled with people waited to greet me.  It was a party…for me!  My friends and family were there.  Happy.  Smiling.  Hopeful. 

When I arrived home that evening, balloons, favors, and leftover birthday cake in hand, I felt different.  Changed.  I realized that to regret my past was to dishonor my present.  All the people in that room were there because of who I am, not because of who I was.  Maybe the things I’ve spent so much time regretting were the very things that made me special.  The person my friends and family were there to celebrate.  A person worth celebrating.  A person with no regrets.

The Big Four - Oh!

As you all know, yesterday was August 24th, 2013. To everyone it was just an ordinary day, but to one person it was a very special day. It was my mother's 40th birthday. To most woman, they think they are officially old. That was how my mom was. That morning it was like rain was falling from the sky because she didn't want to turn 40. Finally it came time for dinner time and my grandma wanted to take her out for dinner. She wanted to take her out to Dave N' Buster's. When we got there and we opened the doors to our room, it turned out to be a surprise birthday party for her. She was so shocked she couldn't even talk. After that everyone had dinner. Surprisingly it was very good. Then we all told embarrassing moments about my mom. One I really enjoyed. My grandma said, "Whenever Kellie was little, she would runaway from her dinner. Her father on the other hand would catch her, take her back to her plate, and make her finish her dinner. So Kellie would take all the food on her plate and store it in her mouth like a chipmunk. When me and my husband would check on her, her food would be gone, so we would think she would be done so we let her go. Before she left that plate she would always spit out that food so she never had to eat it." Then my mom opened her presents from her friends. She loved every single one. After the party, she invited the family over to the house and everyone had fun. To this day my mom is still in shock and amazement. I always hope that everyone at the party will remember this moment and remember it forever.      THE END    

Summer Ends...

Wild, windy, and warm,
As precious as life itself.

The ice - bell rings,
Children scatter like cockroaches all around the truck,
Yelling... " I want the..." "No, Can I have the... Are there anymore of the... "

All of the sudden, the sunset appears.
Every child known to be outside vanishes like in a horror movie.
In bed, asleep, and the lights out. As quick as that.

Summer ends so fast       Do you realize that ?

Farewell before Fall

The pink and yellow sky
creeps down on the horizon
kissing the green lips of every tree.

Enticed by their seductive sway

I remember a time
when August days
lasted an entire year.

Cicadas beckon me away

A cacophony of wings, legs, antennae
carry me to roads once traveled
now nearly gone

Dusty, old, and grey

It is that time, I know
for sunsets to grow shorter
the ground becomes a blanket

Laughter and words, a covered display

How benign a predator is time?
Pouncing so quickly and quietly
Like a bird unearths a worm

I am pried from my vagary

Oh how I want to return
to the warmth of sun and sleep
lazy affairs the only burden...

Come back sweet summer days!

Drive-in Magic

As a child, my family and I used to go to the Drive-in.  My earliest recollection was from about six or seven.  We were watching Alien.  To this day, one of my all-time favorite films.  I can see it vividly, as if it were happening today.  I am sitting in the back seat of my parents' Chevy, arms resting on the backs of their chairs, on the edge of my seat--literally--peering through a dirty windshield at the giant screen above me. 

This wouldn't be our first--or last--visit to the Drive-in.  I later went with some friends to see the re-release of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.  And one other time it was some scary slasher flick; a B-movie (I can't remember the name now) that I haven't ever seen since.  The movies themselves didn't really matter though, did they?  It was the experience of the Drive-in that made those nights so special.  It could have been any movie flying forth from the projection booth.  What stuck with me afterwards was the sitting out under the stars, covered in a flannel blanket, the smell of popcorn and French fries emanating from the snack bar, while the voices rattled from inside that little black box resting on our car door, in unison with their faces above us.  It was magical!

Now-a-days the Drive-in has lost a little of its magic.  My husband and I went a few times while we were dating; however, the back of his station wagon was not as comfortable I remembered the back of my parents' car to be.  More recent visits, with our own kids, have been more about making sure they have fun...and about having a place where loud noises and temper-tantrums are not cause to be promptly removed from the premises. 

The smells of popcorn and French fries now remind me of the extra ten pounds I need to take off from the winter; flannel blankets serve as a cover from the mosquitoes and flies; and the voices on screen can barely be heard beneath the sounds of my children's endless chatter and constant quibbling.  So I wonder...what continues to draw us to this place, once so full of magic and wonder and now so wonderfully--ordinary??

Perhaps it's the hope that it will regain its magic, whisking us away once more into the days of our youth.  Or maybe it is the desire to make this place for our children what it was for us not so long ago.  Maybe that is the closest we will ever get to being children again ourselves.  When I watch my girls snuggled up in blankets, gorging on funnel cakes and French fries, peering at the big screen above them from the back of my open mini-van, I know the answer.

A Great Movie

A Great Movie
Is a awesome one.
An awesome one
Only comes around once in a while.

The rush,
The ripping excitement,
And the radiant projector. 

The thrill is so powerful 
It makes it hard not to watch. 

It is as thrilling as the Kenywoods  Black Widow.

COULD YOU EVER GET IT BETTER THAN THAT !!!!!!!!!!
    

Reflections from a Window

                                                                                                                          

Dear House,


You watch from your concrete cradle
Peeking behind pink and purple hues
Stoic and steady


You digest the laughter and the tears
Holding onto their echos
While smiling back


From within the goings on outside are visible
The fanfare:  Small legs carry sandaled feet
Back and forth across the pavement. 
An innocent and happy dance.


A longing lurches up from deep inside
Isolated and melancholy.  Unexpected.
A cry calls out, beckoning from beyond
Quietly I obey, heeding its edict


We are alike, you and I
Sharing the same palate
The same memories
A comfortable confinement
An idyllic immurement

Home

A Fun Birthday Party

                                                        August 5th , 2013
 Dear Laura, 

        I really loved your party. It was all playing, pouncing, & partying. I loved your brown, elegant dress. I loved your delicious mini sandwiches with ham, cheese, & lettuce. It tasted as though I was in food heaven. I felt like I was at a princess party and even though you are a rightful princess, it still felt magical. In someway it was different. You had a balloon maker that that came and made me an alien out of balloons.

    Then again, I keep thinking about the nails and the hair part. When I got my nails done, it was like a rainbow formed on my nails. They had a violet color with a wonderful glitter coding also with a hot pink French tip. For the hair, Laura's sister  "Lindsay" did my hair. She made me look as beautiful as a princess to be. It was like a new me.  


                                  Sincerely, 
                                         Cassandra Skweres

P.S. Please invite me to next years party. I want to see how you make your party fun next year.
    

My First Friend

 
My first friend was named Lea Pallof. We never even spoke to each other until we truly knew we were meant to be together. It all started in First Grade. I switched schools. I was at Banksville Elementary at first. Then my family moved to Cassabill Estates. My Mom made me go to Mifflin Elementary. That is where I met Lea ( My BFFEL "Best Friend For Eternal Life" ). Ever since then, we have been like sisters. Once we pretended to everyone in our grade that we were once sisters and our parents got divorced. It was so funny that we couldn't pull it off much longer and everyone laughed with us. It was the best prank we ever pulled to our other friends. In my case, I could never have or get a better friend. I just hope that we could remain Best Friends.

Text more posts a. s. a. p. ( As Soon As Possible ). See you later. <3

Beautiful Friendship

I've never been what one would call, "popular."  In fact, for most of my life I was pretty much the opposite.  I always wanted to be, though.  I watched the pretty girls in my school as if a prisoner through a pane of glass, longing to talk like they talked, walk like they walked.  They moved with ease; butterflies flitting from flower to flower, drinking in the nectar of whichever destination they happened upon.  I was more like a caterpillar.

When I was thirteen, I met Vicki.  She was one of the pretty people.  She had long sandy brown hair that fell in waves down her back.  Her skin was the color of a root beer float after the ice cream has melted down the inside of the glass and she had a body most girls my age could only hope for.  Her typical wardrobe consisted of a tight white t-shirt and holey Daisy Dukes rolled up as high as they could go on her shapely thighs.  I thought she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen...so did all the boys.  Every boy we hung out with--even the ones that I held a secret crush on--watched and admired Vicki from afar.  Being with her was like standing on the backside of flashlight; you could always see the light, but it never shone on you.

Vicki and I eventually parted ways.  We went to two different schools; by the time I would run into her again, too much time would have elapsed, turning us into two different people.  I'm now an adult, married and with my own children. One nearly thirteen herself.   I often wonder: What happened to Vicki?

I wonder if she has children and if she looks the same as she did when she was thirteen.  Thin. Brown. Bubbly. Beautiful.  If she's changed as much as I have, then I suppose she is none of these.  It would be interesting to know, however.  A part of me wishes that she is not as beautiful as I remember her; the jealous part of my memory would see a strange sense of justice in that.  But then again, I wonder if she could ever be as radiant as she is my mind...to that thirteen year old girl still imprisoned inside myself.  Probably not, I think.  Is anything??