The soft, rainbow colors had sunken under the horizon and with its exit had come ravishing dots of stars scattered from west to east in the sky. I had never experienced such an immaculate appetite for cotton candy. The wind nipped at my ears as I nuzzled my soon to be Popsicle fingers into my blanket. I found it quite ironic how my blanket was the exact shade of green as that smooth, damp grass. It was almost as though they meshed, lying together: blanket and blade. Giving into the urge to be indoors and away from the crisp winter air, my feet made footprints into the earth as I crept across the soccer field, heading towards the street that my tiny, brick house dwelled upon. I would like to call it a home, but I never knew such a place. Home is where the heart is, I’ve heard. Supposedly, my heart was always else where. I gazed at the exhibit of stars once again, before stepping onto the street at last; I was fully aware that once the street and I met, my vision would blur away from that marvelous sky- thank you bright street lights. Blowing a kiss to the heavens, I wondered how epic actually kissing the sky would be. I imagined that it would be something that someone would find rather impossible to forget the passion of- no matter the effort.
How everything was so black at only six p.m. was beyond fathom. I questioned the sky of the mystery. As usual, no response. I believe if ever the sky did answer me, I would have felt even a more intense level of insanity. Reminiscing it all now, to hear the sky’s voice would have been the least of what I had fret about within myself. A cold, empty space filled my chest where my once bubbly heart thudded every night. Mellow dramatic? Probably. Over exaggeration? Probably not. It was that night I felt the revelation that I was concerned with the fact that I didn’t care. What, you may ask, did I not care for? Might you have a rock nearby? Perhaps, just perhaps, a significant other, rising success in schooling, or even friendships flourishing? Those. I cared for nothing of the sort. To be frank, my own being didn’t turn a twitch for me. This cold, captivating night, though, switched on some electric charge that made me want to pursue swimming the arctic channel, golly. “So, I won’t hesitate, no more, no more. It can not wait; I’m yours” stunned me into a frenzy as the song busted through my pocket. My cellular device was ringing its Jordan Hamilton ring tone. I swiftly glided my hand into my pocket and retrieved the noisy piece of technology. One message read, “How are you, Amanda Lee?” The question lingered as though he had asked me how many craters were on the moon. How am I? How am I? Well, Jo, I am not so well. I just realized that I committed a serious felony against my sister, my best friend Catherine and I just together came to the realization that we are nut cases- most likely should be somewhere seeking mental aid, my parents are constantly on the brink of divorce,oh! And I am pretty sure I don't believe in love . . . yeah, that wasn’t going to be said. My brain must have been on autopilot because it glided my fingers over the buttons for a reply, “I’m dandy. How do you do, Jo?” Dirty, disgusting filth of a human, I am. I wouldn’t mind all those lies that had spread like butter over toast to be shared about me nowadays. I deserved it. I needed it. Who is to say that criticism doesn’t help a gal? Kick me while I’m down, why don’t you? KICK ME.
The door handle was nearly iced over as I entered the house to find my family huddled in full view to the television. Television was truly never my cup of tea, neither was family time. Oh, how I’ve changed, the difference inside was unbearably evil. I drug myself to the back room, the last one on the left- my parent’s bedroom. They never used the blasted space. So for my benefit, I conquered it as my own. The cheetah print comforter appeared so vibrant against the mocha brown pillow cases, the lighting so crisp from new light bulbs. The City of Ember came to mind and I instantly was wishing sunshine was beaming through the cream colored curtains instead of the dark, lonely, dim moon that served as a grim excuse of light. I didn’t want the light bulbs to burn out and leave me slave to the hold of the moon. What would I do: if the moon suddenly quit doing as it did; if it may explode or orbit to another galaxy, if the light all in the blink of an eye ball just vanished into a stark other place: how would I survive? I suppose I would never know that I was so alone- not being able to see. Knowing what you don’t see is incredibly impossible.
“Seeing is believing," I once read that in a book.
It is said that God is never seen. However, I commend you that we are his body, the church. His hands, his feet, his words. I believe that’s why it is so important for Christians to show that they are who they claim to be. It proves with actions that God is real. God. That’s exactly who I needed to be discussing the issue with instead of aimlessly chatting with my kitty about how I was baffled with the weather. Honestly, who has conversations about the weather? Old people who have nothing more to make the moment not awkward with- that’s who.
