Emma Mullin
Wearing bold, black platform boots, Emma Mullin crushed thin ice covering the sidewalk we were walking down as strangers passed us by like how Ohio's bitter wind was touching our cheeks: like brushstrokes, the slightest movement from the air left a red blush, and the strangers left an impression, they do that in their own, strange way. However, Emma Mullin isn't a stranger, not wholly. Yet, she left me a feeling, meeting her, after years of only noticing her silhouette in classrooms or moving distantly in school hallways, that this article can only hope to convey and will, possibly, tell you about Emma Mullin, what she's done, where she's going, and who she is.
We caught up, taking our seats in the cafe next to a large window with frosted edges, about how the last four years have been. Of course, school came up, and for her, "The only good thing to come out of high school" was the flag team. What made practicing outside during days when not even shadows could escape the heat, the hours that go into planning, practicing, and perfecting for the game, only for that day, with its hooks of expectation and anxiety, to sink in under stadium lights on Friday nights, was her team, a team she led being flag coach. "Those girls were always there for me." her palms almost slammed the table, slightly shaking our coffee, as she told me with dark, brown eyes staring right into mine, but she wasn't looking at me; no, she was daydreaming about all those time they, the girls, stood up for her or dropped everything just to come over and be there for her, for each other. They did that because that team was, a lot of the time, all they had for a family. As Emma pointed out to me, "...a lot of them don't have the best lives at home." they made a household out of each other, for each other. I could tell Emma was happy to have been the head of that home and sad to give it away.
Besides that, she wanted to leave school as soon as possible (who can blame her). So, until senior year, she attended classes at Kent, where she developed her love for writing and photography. She was always drawn to them, even back in middle school. I remember her constantly making stories based on our friends and taking pictures (primarily silly ones). Nonetheless, it was never anything serious, and, of course, maturity can fade away passions, so she only started investing in it once she started classes at Kent. "You have a gift," her writing teacher told her, so, with that encouragement and rekindling of an old, personal love, Emma knew what she wanted to do in life: "I want to study people in a less sciency way." this made sense to me. Despite her assertive demeanor, only heightened by whatever pair of jeans she's wearing with either a black, fluffy jacket or maybe something covered in patches, all while wearing shade (even inside) that shrouds her in this edgy and somewhat mysterious persona, Emma has always been a people person (she'll tell you otherwise but, don't believe her.) not always liking them she wants, sometimes even needs, people around her. While we were walking around, after leaving the cafe and entering different stores, she even said, "I still suffer from only doing things for other people." Why this is, and this is only a guess, is because Emma's life has been similar to being in a dense woods where there is a fogged breath down the neck so heavy it’s like a weight creasing the shoulders; it is impossible to move, and there's no exit to go towards, even if it wasn't. So, whenever someone stumbles in there too, they must be in a similar situation; they must understand what it is like to live this way, and because of that, holding on to them is the best way to survive. Emma's wanting to understand people's emotions is, in a way, how she can cope with her own.
Whatever her reasons, she plans to return to Kent and major in journalism; she already has her own place and is the manager at Chipotle (the main reason she graduated early is so that she could work more). The fog is clearing for Emma, and (pardon the cliche) the future is bright. She dropped me off at home after what ended up being eight hours. While going inside, smiling stupidly, I thought about how nice it is that the past, like people, can change with time.