Impressions

….as she retreated to her humble abode, she reflected on the day past.

“How monotonous.” she thought to herself.

Day in and day out there is very little variation and few challenges.

She seeks to find excitement, creating, if only for a moment, a distraction in the form of a fantasy where she finds contentment in the idea of something greater. Its not a lifestyle, but rather her sense of self, and application to society. She’s come to the realization that she must quit fantasizing and pursue her dreams, her fantasies. Her courage comes from her past experiences, her bravery comes from her hope.

She recalls an evening in her pre teen years. Just as always, she went about her day at school. She was a good student. She listened attentively, absorbed what was being taught, and applied herself in her studies. It was at an early age that she felt the sting of monotony. Go to school, participate in after school activities. For during this season it was volleyball. She arrived home by car pool, walked into a home bustling with mom and dad activites, hurridely preparing a meal for their three children, watching the days events on the six oclock news, planning the rest of the evening. Dinner, homework, bath, tv, and then bed.

She was twelve. Bright eyed, eager for what the world had to offer her, exceling in whatever she participated. Most of those things were decided for her. A blonde blunt bob framed her pudgy face. Her cheeks rosy, eyes green, smile wide and toothy, her build athletic. She did have two brothers you know, and she could wrestle them both.

“Dad” she says to her father.

“Yes” her father replies.

“Is this what life is?” she inquires

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I mean, is this what life is. Go to school or work, come home, eat, go to bed. And do it all over the next day. Is this what people do?” she disappointingly asks.

He laughs, not at her, but at the question. This life is so natural to him the question is silly. He is a man of great pride. Constant and stable are two words that define him. Things are black and white, right or wrong, good or bad.

“Well yes. That is just what life is. What else do you want?” he responded. His answer was honest. Something she’d later come to understand and respect.

The fear absorbed her. It was not what she was wanting to hear. It was not what she believed she could be. It was not her ideal. But she was too young, too innocent and too naïve to know any better. And her life experiences had not afforded her the opportunity, up and to that point, to know any better.

“It is just not what it seems it should be.” she said to herself.

She finished dinner, completed her homework, took a bath, watched tv and went to bed. As she layed her head on the pillow, she counted the sqaures on the collectables adoring her tall dresser. The walls were painted a pale purple, so the only shapes to count in the room were figurines, furniture was sparse. She started to count, one, two, three, four, five – counting the sides, counting the tops and bottoms. She would count the shapes until all angles had been accounted for. She would always end on an even number, because life was to be in order. And then, when she finished, she count all over again, just to be sure she had counted right.

Then she closed her eyes, feel asleep, and woke up the next day and went on with life as it was intended to be.