Leaves, Seasons, and Dead Trees (BxB)

11. - A SNAP-py Winter Holiday

"I wish somebody would just sleep here over,
To check I'm breathin',
To lie that everything's all right.
The situation's a bit more complicated
Than I make it, I feel a bit too broke to fight."

- "Broken Tongue" by Joshua James -

*****

Samuel

"Okay, fuck it. That'll do. One last question." I tap my pen impatiently against the daunting second question, the real beast of the bunch:

2. Discuss the portrayal of motherhood in two works of women's literature studied in this course, examining the challenges, expectations, and complexities associated with the maternal role. Analyze how these representations challenge or reinforce traditional notions of motherhood and consider the broader social and cultural implications conveyed in the texts.

I severely underestimated the final exam for Women's Writing, foolishly squandering two nights on mindless YouTube videos after obsessing over our group presentation on Poe's "The Raven" in American Lit I. As it turns out, everyone else's presentation was equally superficial, exposing my unnecessary worries about lacking content (when, in reality, we had analyzed more than the others). It's a testament to my naivety. Perhaps it's this naivety that instantly draws me toward Elodie, Poppy, and Alfonso.

However, being in a group assignment where I don't recognize a single face is disheartening. I feel like an outsider, outclassed by my peers, the socially inferior among them all. While they graciously understand my exaggerated concerns and acknowledge our presentation's omission of situational irony commentary, I can't help but feel guilty for burdening them with unneeded worries.

Refocusing my attention on the essay question, I spend minutes crafting a satisfactory response, incessantly refining and revising my final answer. And then, without warning...

"Alright, students, it's already four. Time to wrap it up!" The exam supervisor's announcement interrupts the frenzy, but a handful of unfortunate souls continue desperately scribbling words onto their papers. Partially content with my answer, I rise from my seat, submit my paper, and retrieve my bag before exiting the classroom. I linger by the doorway, waiting for Poppy, who is still among the frantic scribblers.

Today is December 16, and the long-delayed final exam of this semester's finals is finally behind me.

But Christmas looms just around the corner.

And then, before I know it, the new year arrives.

Now, my current financial status has become a source of concern.

My parents made a deliberate choice to exile me from their home when they discovered my secret application for a prestigious scholarship program. This scholarship was my ticket to a better future, one that would alleviate our financial struggles. Can't they see that I fully understand their concerns? By pursuing this scholarship, especially one of the toughest, I'm easing their burden.

Yet, when I grappled with the overwhelming tasks of finding accommodation, organizing my move, arranging transportation, and everything in between, I did them all on my own. They didn't even offer a paw in packing my belongings as I departed. To add insult to injury, they've never bothered to ask about my well-being during my first days at college as well. It's as if I no longer exist to them.

And the worst part? I can no longer rely on busking with my guitar on the streets. My dad ruthlessly destroyed it. That guitar was my short-lived solace, a means to escape the hardships of my financial struggles, but now that avenue is closed off as well.