The Bottom Shelf Review

   Waking in the midst of an endless whimsical reverie wasn’t at all as refreshing as it may have been, knowing today was the day where sorrow lingered, because a dear friend and angel has moved away. This dear friend of mine’s name is Rosie Magee, and like the famous Dutch and German comedian Kristen Schaal, she easily reminded me of her sweet nectar demeanor and witty, charming ways. She was more than just this bubbly Irish woman full of spirit and vigor, she was the Chaplain of Wilson College who will always capture the hearts and lives of many. Little does she know how distraught I truly am for her departure back near her home country Scotland, Iona, (close by to Northern Ireland [330 miles away]—her homeland) where she left me and many other’s behind. It’s as if she has vanished through crystal thin air, and I only long for her to reappear once more to say goodbye. I certainly won’t forget her blessing of a smile or her amusing, gleeful cachinnation. She simply was a being from out of this world, divine in every sense of the word.

   Yawning, I stumbled awake. It was a cold, brisk, and hazy morning. Nothing seemed right with the world because the one person who mattered most to me was gone. Struggling to see the good in all of this frustration, the only thing I could think of was, “well, at least she’s back at her homeland; the land she’s most fond of and where they need her most.” And at that very thought, I felt chills run down my spine as I decided to get up to get primped for the day.

   “So what if Rosie is gone?” I thought to myself while staring into my hamster’s cobalt blue cage. “That doesn’t necessarily mean I can’t still have fun with being a Curran scholar or while doing other school activities because now everything can be done in her memory!” I sighed with a breath of relief. I kept telling myself over and over that everything was going to be “A-Okay” and it would be. Getting a hold of myself and gathering my thoughts, I quickly got dressed and applied makeup, then left for class within mere minutes, taking my book bag in one hand and a cup of steaming hot green tea in the other. Nothing could ruin this day except more cascading, trickling negative thoughts. But like the positive and optimistic person that I am, I refused to let that shatter me, protruding my very soul. Rosie was still here and her presence remained in my heart, mind, and soul.

   Later that day, I tumbled back into bed exhausted. Feeling the weight of the world come down on my shoulders, I had trouble getting a hold of myself. Rosie really was gone and realizing this every waking minute, if not second, of the day was really taking its toll on me. Sure, she may be off someplace else, but I need to stay strong and happy for her (and I was happy deep down in my heart)! Waking up from the depths of a cold reality was painstaking and even worse, a nightmare. But I reassured myself that no matter how awful this profound dream may seem, it was only a dream. A never ending (nightmare-like) dream.

   As I collected my dusty, ragged thoughts that were scattering all around me, I realized that what Rosie left me with was the gift of wisdom and kindness, for she gave them to me from the moment we first met. Remembering Rosie was like a blissful daydream. She gave unto me and many others these potent and exponential gifts such as wisdom, courage, faith, and kindness. I was just so grateful for having such a celestial being in my life. Sometimes I wondered what I would do without her spiritual being and cherub self.

   I remembered moments in time, fragments, really, of what felt like ages and moons of gracious time spent with her. Every moment was more captivating than the last. For instance, when we first met, she had the most charming beam of a smile and the accent to accompany it. She was gentle and kind and full of this admirable, breathtaking energy like a divine messenger from God whose chakra points were all in line and in unification— to create this magnificently radiant hominid. She helped all of those in need and better yet, taught her Curran scholars the ways of giving thanks and praise.

   Many road trips spent with her going to Carlisle to help those in need at food pantries such as Project Share were honestly the best thing that has ever happened to me. Because of Rosie, I was able to fight my inner demons and retrieve sanity when it felt like all was lost. Other times, she was like a caring, listening mother who understood my pains and frustrations. Not only was she there for me to listen when I needed her most, but she was also very benevolent and altruistic in every way, shape, and form. Her advice struck me like a heart of gold. She was compassionate and more notably caring than most other beings I have ever had the blessing to encounter.

   What Rosie was to me, and probably to many other people, was a Saint full of the wisdom of an aging owl, one that has lived for over a thousand years. Waking from this slumber of a daydream was depleting and draining. I may miss her spirit and vision of the world, but at least I know now in all my heart and chasmal soul that she will always remain a Wilson Chaplain and laudable living being. She may be on the other side of the world but her fiery ardor carries on.