This summer was the first time I went to a drive-in movie with the man I love… and a carbonated drink. Before dusk, as we waited for the film to start, I was awkwardly positioned in the passenger seat, facing away from the screen, getting the snacks out of the reusable grocery bags in the back. My bottle of sparkling lemon water had rolled under the seat during the hour-long drive, and I was really looking forward to it after the ride without air conditioning. To my dismay, the second the pop of the plastic seal became audible, so did two other sounds.
The first was the incredibly distinctive “PSHHHH!” of a carbonated drink violently escaping captivity in order to hurl itself onto every surface within a surprisingly large radius. The second was the most piercing scream I have ever heard in my life. And it went on. And on. And on.
My brain forgot to instruct my now-soaked hands to twist the blue cap back to the way it was before – or at least remove it completely to stop the 360 degree spray. My body forgot how to fight or flee: instead, it froze. It froze until my mind finally processed that my ears were hearing my astounded boyfriend repeatedly telling me that all I needed to do was close the bottle. When I finally did, the sounds changed. We sat there laughing, both soaked and surprised, questioning my reaction to the fizz that could have been so easily tamed.
Call me crazy, but I feel that this situation sums up my year quite accurately. There have been so many great things in my life this year. I completed two half-marathons. Learned to do a handstand (sort of). Visited my grandfather and my dad in Alberta (and welcomed him back home later in the year). Celebrated my dog’s 15th birthday. Rescued kittens. Drove all night with my dog to surprise my sister who was working in Prince-Edward-Island. It’s been quite the year.
But life is like sparkling water. There’s the drink: the moments to be savoured. And there’s the fizz. Fizz that occasionally sprays hardship and tragedy all over our plans, soaking our expectations and experiences with uncontrollable emotion that makes our inner-selves release the most piercing screams we’ve ever heard in our lives. This year, I lost two of my grandparents within a two-month period. I got through my first summer apart from my twin. I was diagnosed with an incurable autoimmune disease that has impacted my work and my hobbies, and put into question my capacity to teach Phys. Ed.. I’ve survived a lot of worrying this year; seen a lot of fizz.
Through it all, I’ve never been alone. My amazing friends make school so much better. My family ensures that I have what I need to keep fighting. And through every misty obstacle of 2018, my boyfriend has been beside me, calmly reminding me that sometimes it’s as simple as remembering to twist the cap shut while the storm passes. All these people help towel off the challenges sprayed onto me by the lemon water of life.
Thank you to everyone who made my year drier. I couldn’t have done it without you.
katherine willcocks 