by NICOLE DG. SAMSON
EVERYONE RAN around me, carrying plates of food and drinks. I had no appetite. Though the sofa was comfortable to sit on, it was hard to ignore the loud engines of motorcycles dragging pots and pans on the road or the kids with their plastic trumpets.
My sister sat beside me. She laid my head on her lap as she ate a slice of pizza on her flimsy paper plate. Her free hand scratched my scalp in an attempt to comfort me. On normal days, it worked, but those days were not deafening.
“Seven! Six! Five!” My parents yelled from outside the house.
My sister stood and left me on the sofa, joining the rest of the family. I stared at her paper plate with a slice of unfinished pizza. I wondered if filling my stomach would help alleviate the fear.
“Four! Three! Two!” They seemed to be getting more excited.
I left the comforts of the sofa and joined them outside, trying my best to ignore the smell of smoke and the sound of fireworks.
“One! Happy New Year!” I looked up at my mom, barking excitedly. Despite my legs shaking in fear, I mirrored their excitement.
“You are such a brave little puppy. How about some treats?” She said as she scratched the back of my ears.
Even after years with them, I never got quite used to this celebration. I do not fully understand it, but I cannot wait for what we play tomorrow. F