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Peyton Edwards

October 27, 2019

ENGL 1010

Narrative Essay Final

Silver Swallow

It was the second to last Tuesday of my senior year of high school. Warm sunlight slipped

through the windows of my bedroom. Waking from a den of blankets and pillows, a head of

strawberry blonde hair emerged. Lazily pulling off the many cozy layers, I got out of bed.

Wandering across the room, I visited the coffee-colored desk that held my phone and an

assortment of old papers. Picking up the mix of metal and glass, I peered down at the time. It was

9:15 in the morning, and I had already missed my first class.

Rushing from my room I had hopes of a decent breakfast before school. In soft winter

pajamas, I flew down the stairs. The house was quiet as usual but coming down the stairs I

noticed my mother sitting at the counter. Her back was facing the stairs and her shoulders were

slumped. The woman before me was unrecognizable from the strong rock that I knew as my

mother. At the third to last step the stairs creaked. This small noise caused my mother to turn

abruptly around. Her eyes were red and puffy with tear stains reddening her cheeks. Sorrowful

was the expression painted on my mother’s face. I wasn’t sure how to react; confusion and

questions circled through my mind during the brief second of silence.

My heart stopped beating when the words left her lips. Breakfast and plans for the day

were forgotten. The statement, “Heidi had an overdose last night,” sunk in. Shock and sorrow

ripped through my chest causing hot tears to roll in waves over my cheeks. My mother
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desperately enveloped me in a hug. We both just stood there crying not knowing what to do.

After she released me I instinctively wandered over to my favorite barstool at the counter. It was

the only stool that wasn’t broken in some way. Not knowing what to say I sat as my mother

explained the events of the previous night.

After an eternity of five minutes, a subconscious alarm went off in my head. It was finals

week, and I had a presentation to give in a few minutes and another requirement to do after that.

Weakly rising, I told my mother what she had forgotten. Horror overshadowed her sorrowful

expression as she frantically exclaimed, “No! You can’t go. I thought you had finished all the

finals last week”.

As I pivoted around to the fridge more tears fell. My voice trembled, “These are the last

two finals of my senior year. I will go, then come home and be done”. Disbelief caused my

mother to fall silent. We both knew I would not be able to hold myself together but still my last

statement hung in the air, unchallenged. My whole body quaked as I tried to hurry; I grabbed a

glass of almond milk and ran out the door.

Reaching the Herriman High School student parking I put my white Land Rover in park.

Staring at myself in the rearview mirror, I put my best brave face on and had a mental pep talk.

With puffy eyes and red blotches on my cheeks, I trekked to the attendance office located on the

opposite end of the building from where I parked. The vacant halls were the opposite of my

mind, overcrowded with thoughts of what I had learned and of what was to come.

Walking through the attendance office door was the easy part. There were three women at

the front desk; all were occupied and did not pay heed to the girl entering their workplace. The

middle woman that I had talked to before waved me over while putting away her previous work.
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I walked up to her area of the desk and waited to be checked in. She glanced up at me with a soft

smile that quickly transformed into a look of concern. “Is everything okay?” she asked. Those

words wrapped a noose around my neck and I was left unable to speak. My reply was a half

hearted nod that involved no eye contact. Not believing my answer the tall blonde office worker

stood up and addressed me once more. “Do you want to talk about it?” I made eye contact, in

that moment all bets were off. Seeing my heavy tears the gentle woman walked briskly around

her desk. Once she met me where I stood she guided me over to the darkened sick room that was

to my right. She had me sit on the bed closest to the door. There were no sheets and it was a pale

blue fabric that felt like smooth leather. There were two other beds in the room with a fridge and

bathroom by the farthest bed. She asked me if I would be willing to share with her what was

troubling me. Through violent sobs I tried to explain that my aunt had commited suicide by

opiod overdose the previous night. I am not sure how much she understood but her patient eyes

just watched me as she listened. Once I finished she asked me why I had come. Still sobbing I

explained how important the last two tasks were to my grades. I insisted that I had to get those

done and that I would not leave until they were taken care of. With understanding in her voice,

she offered to let me collect my thoughts for as long as I wished and she insisted on writing a

note to my teachers. I just nodded and leaned up against the wall letting it support me where I

was.

The next several minutes consisted of me attempting to control my thoughts and feelings.

I knew I wasn’t going to be able to prevent myself from any further breakdowns but I was so

close to graduation that I didn’t want to give up just yet. Confusion and what ifs circled in my

mind. I had seen Heidi only a couple weeks prior playing with my one year old cousin Talon. I
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could still picture her waist length shiny black hair falling over her shoulders as she got on the

floor to play with the feisty little boy. Why did my aunt that had seemed so happy feel like she

had to take her own life and what could have been done to prevent her? At this point I knew that

my class had already started but I was determined to calm down before leaving the haven of the

sick room. I was afraid of how people would react if they saw me crying. I didn’t want to be a

distraction or a charity case. Frozen by my thoughts and fears, I continued to sit in the dark

room.

At some point the same woman who had helped me, directed a girl who was probably a

grade younger than I to the bed in the middle of the room. I didn’t look over at the girl when she

came in nor did I when she quietly sat down. Once we were alone, I heard the younger girl unzip

her backpack. The zipper was loud in the small space, demanding attention to its presence.

“Here” she said leaning over with a tissue in hand. Turning to her I saw her small frame sprawled

out on the bed. She had one hand propping her up and the other holding out the tissue, the effort

looked as if it brought her a great deal of pain. I didn’t know this girl but her kindness meant the

world to me. I thanked her for the offering and sat there for a few minutes longer. Feeling ready

to leave, I got up and told the girl thank you once more and that I hoped she would get better

soon.

Walking out of the attendance office, I clung to the note and tissue. I made it a mere five

steps before a group of three girls noticed me. I walked three more steps before I was asked if I

was okay. I tried to look away as tears again watered my cheeks, I was not okay. Almost

instantly I was enveloped in a sympathetic hug by a girl with long sandy blonde hair. She

introduced herself as Hailey while the other girls joined in the hug that was taking place in the
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middle of the hallway. In an attempt to make me feel better the girls showered me in

compliments like, “how are you so pretty when you cry”. While doing this they stayed circled

around me, effectively preventing my escape. It took a minute but Hailey asked me what was

wrong. I explained some details; subsequently, becoming the center of a four person hug once

more. Hailey and a girl with espresso-colored skin and black, braided hair expressed that they

wanted to help. If they couldn’t convince me to walk to the counselor, they were going to at least

walk me into class. Lacking the energy to argue further, I said farewell to the girl who had to

leave and then the three of us walked up the nearby stairs to the second floor.

By this point my second class was already halfway over. Once we reached my class the

girl with black braids said goodbye and wished me luck. Hailey however, insisted that she walk

in with me which I am eternally grateful for.

As usual the door to Mrs. Overy’s classroom creaked. The lights were off and the

projector was displaying one student’s presentation. Several heads turned and watched as Hailey

and I approached Mrs. O’s desk that was directly across the classroom from the door. I gave Mrs.

O the note and then Hailey a hug before she left the room. Without looking at any of my curious

classmates I took a seat near the door grabbing several tissues from a box nearby. Mrs. O

gracefully got up from her desk and informed me that she would look over my presentation so I

would not need to present to the class. Out of all of my teachers she was the one I feared the

most. She was known to hold us all to a college level standard and I never expected her to be so

understanding.

After Mrs. O’s English class was Mrs. Brock’s Foods 1 class. To get to Mrs. Brock’s I

had to walk through a crowded hall and down a tight stairwell. The bell dismissing class echoed
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loudly through the building. As if a limited amount of free food was being offered somewhere,

everyone quickly rose from their seats in one bustling motion and rushed out of the room. It was

fairly normal for me to be the last student to leave the classroom but as I was grabbing my

belongings Mrs. O stopped me. My relationship with her was as some would describe “a

love-hate relationship.” She was one of those teachers who always spoke her mind in an honest

or frank manner and she was known for being strict. However, if a student was consistently hard

working she could be understanding when occasional situations came up. When she stopped me

Mrs. O looked at me with empathy, her usually sparkling eyes were darkened with concern. For

the third time that day I was asked what had happened and I again explained as much as I knew.

Before letting me go she told me that I didn’t have to come the rest of the week and that she

would take care of all of my finals grades in her two classes. Little did I know at the time, but I

later found out that she contacted my counselor asking her to make room in her busy schedule

for me if I wished to talk with her.

By the time I walked out into the main hallway that would take me to my foods class, it

was relatively uncrowded. There were even so few students that you could see a majority of the

shiny maroon lockers that lined the walls of the hallway. I could have walked at a steady pace,

there was still a couple minutes till the starting bell would ring. Instead though I let my favorite

grey orthopedic tennis shoes speed walk me down the hall, occasionally squeaking on the

smooth tiles.

The door to Foods 1 was open as always. I walked straight to the blue shelves that were

stationed in front of the door. The top cubbies held the various colored binders belonging to my

classmates. My binder was a cotton candy blue labeled “EDWARDS” with a small strip of neon
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green duct tape signifying I was in the third period class. Mrs. Brock loved duct tape, she had all

of the classes labeled with their own color and she used it throughout her classroom. Grabbing

my binder, I walked over to my assigned seat at the second table closest to the exit. I was only

attending third period because I had a mandatory state final. Reaching my seat I sat down and put

my head on the desk. My arms and hair created a shelter, meant to protect me from reality. My

classmates filtered in before and after the starting bell rang. Mrs. Brock who had been sitting at

her desk grading papers moved in front of the whiteboard to address the class. I glanced up out

of respect just in time to see an office aid walk in with a note. My teacher quickly took the note

hoping to get on with her class. The aid retreated as Mrs. Brock read over the paper, nausea came

over me as I watched her look up directly at me. “Peyton,” she said walking to my right into the

privacy of the kitchen while waving for me to join her. I felt exposed as not a single one of my

fellow students was not curiously staring at me. Clumsily I navigated a maze of backpacks and

chairs while making my way to the kitchen.

My teacher looked at me concerned seeming as if she was trying to read my mind with

just her eyes. Her short blonde hair appeared to grow in volume and her blue eyes widened with

each word. Frantically she explained to me that there had been a family emergency. Panic ripped

through my being, I could not bare to suffer yet another tragedy that day and so I asked if the

note contained any more details. Mrs. Brock handed over the stiff piece of paper and with relief I

realized that she had misread the office worker’s words. Now numb to tears, I had not even

noticed that I had begun crying. For the fourth time, I was asked what had happened; thus,

leading me to explain once more. With each time I shared what I knew, I felt a fragment of my

soul breaking off like a leaf in autumn wind.

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Even though I was emotionally exhausted, I stubbornly insisted to take the final with the

rest of the class. The compromise Mrs. Brock had come up with was that I leave class after

completing my test. Miraculously, even through many tears and the distracting inquiries of my

classmates I scored a ninety-two percent on my state final. Not wanting to go home I walked out

of class and headed through the noisy commons area to the counseling center. I am sure that I

looked horrific because as soon as I approached the tall check in desk I was met by two very

worried women. My counselor's office was just around the corner from the check in desk.

Already seeing that her office was empty I asked the two women at the desk when she would be

back. They explained she was out to lunch but that I could sit in their waiting area till she got

back. The waiting area looked like an assortment of dentist office chairs, I knew that I would

rather lay on my comfy sofa than on mismatched seats that had held hundreds of other rear ends

that week. Quickly filling out a meeting request form to my counselor, I dismissed the two

women by lying with reassurances that I was fine.

Thinking I was home free, I reached only seven steps away from the counseling center

exit before the school police officer stopped me. He had been looking at the red bulletin board

that featured job postings aimed at high school kids.Whether he heard me with the desk women

or saw my red blotchy face I do not know, either way he decided to stop my progression towards

the double doors. A majority of all the other individuals I had explained my situation to I had

known before that day. The unfortunate police officer like many others asked what was wrong,

he had no clue what he had gotten himself into. As I started to cry his whole frame tensed, when

I told him about my aunt his expression changed from happy to concerned. He just stood there
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listening and waiting for me to finish. Once I had told him what I could I felt raw. He asked if

there was anything he could do and when I replied no he wished me well before I left.

Once I got home I found my mother in her bed looking to be in a worse condition than I

was, Heidi had been her sister after all. She was propped up by the three old pillows she had

unofficially declared her own. Blankets covered to her chest and I could see she was wearing one

of her favorite pajama outfits, light pajama pants and a tank top. Zuri one of the family dogs, a

medium white goldendoodle layed on the bed at my mother’s feet. To my mother’s left the other

family dog Bella, a large strawberry blonde goldendoodle sat patiently waiting for food. I walked

over and got into the bed lifting up the many layers of blankets. We talked and just sat in each

other's company until we eventually moved downstairs. Moving served two purposes, we

planned to watch a movie as an easy distraction and my mother was preparing for my oblivious

sister to get home.

When Sydnie came crashing through the door I was sure people in China could hear her.

Syd was upset about something that had happened at school and was about to go storming up the

stairs past our mother and I. My mother caught her before she could escape telling her to come

sit on the couch with us. The couch was a long “L” shape with one side up against the stairs half

wall and the other separating the living room from the dining space. It was made of a dark brown

leather that was once smooth but after years of wear and tear it was as weathered as an old man’s

arm. My mother and I were cuddled together in the corner of the couch with blankets over us.

Sydnie seeing this and hearing our mother’s tone thought we were having an intervention about

her grades so she plopped down on the farthest end of the couch from us. Her armor was on and

she was in a defensive mood. After many attempts to explain that she wasn’t in trouble my
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mother final broke the news. My sister’s favorite aunt had an opioid overdose and had passed

away. In less than a second her armor had melted away. My sister was heartbroken, there was

and is truly no other way to describe it. After hearing the news, she went to her room and it took

a long time to convince her to be with us downstairs. The rest of the night consisted of the three

of us watching movies while snuggling on the couch, recounting old memories, and consuming

comfort food. At one point my father surprised us all, he had been on a business trip but he flew

home early when he heard what had happened.

Conversations through the day were fairly brief, still they left mixed emotions in my

heart. On one hand, I was glad to know that people cared and that I was noticed. On the other

hand, my soul was torn apart from the loss of my aunt. I miss my aunt’s big hugs, warm smile,

and most of all her presence in my life. When I was small, I would stay at my grandma’s for

play dates. Heidi knew the name of all the horses that lived on the property that was lined up

with my Grandma’s fence. She would point them out as they came by, while sneakily giving

them treats such as carrots or apples.

That first night, like many in the weeks to come, I couldn’t sleep. Not sure how to

express what I felt or how to find peace, I painted a watercolor picture. In the painting there is a

swallow. Sailors of the past believed swallows to carry the souls of the dead on to the next life.

The swallow is a silver color and is carrying a purple ribbon. These two colors combined

represent opioid overdose awareness. There is a pink sunrise in the background. It is meant to

show a new day or change and also I found out about Heidi’s passing Tuesday morning. There

are also mountains in the background which were to show ties that Heidi had to the Salt Lake
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Valley since it is where she was born and lived the majority of her life. Finally, the message in

pen was my statement of wanting to find peace.

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