A Thousand Dandilions

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The glass, the glass mocks me. Every shard, hidden. Before, before I could do anything, hidden I, still am trying to find an answer.


Every morning starts the same, a buzz from my alarm clock. Then by my bedside a card or a note from my mother. Something cute, with a piece of irony. Followed by a slow walk down the stairs. I tip toe, but every stair of this old house squeaks. I try not to wake up my mother, it is usually all silence. No cheesy good morning or hearing a soft voice descend in the hall way. I walk into the kitchen, the tiles are cold, and the heat hasn’t been turned on in forever. Then a ding from the toaster, burnt. But it was always like that, I think I have acquired a taste for it. Not like it tastes good anyway. My bag was packed, as it always is. Then finally a slow walk to the bus stop. Where I lean on the sign, and probably dose off until I hear the ear-piercing scream from the breaks.


In school there is the same day, just like home. Go to class, eat lunch, and go back to class. Leave. I did not know what part of the day is better. The day seems so slow, the mocking goes on. I don’t know why they mock me. I think my hair is fine, clothes, ok. But that’s not the point, I don’t get their names they mock me with. “Mrs. Invisible, Air talker.” Makes no sense to me, maybe its word play. But today must have been the worse, well in science. One on the worst name callers sat across from me. I started taking notes, and then it began.


“Writing a letter to your invisible friends?”, he slyly said. The word move from his lips like it was just simple conversation.


“shut-up”, I managed to squeak out in a tone I was not proud of. I wish I said it meaner.


“What’s your friend’s name?”, he bothered.


“I said shut up!”, I barked out. I could feel tears burning in the back of my eyes, trying not to cry.


“What, are you going to cry to your mommy?”, he said in a way like it was routine.



The one straw that kept me sane just snapped. I started bawling, I didn’t care who was watching. But I knew all eyes were on me. The teacher gave me a look, almost sympathetic. I ran out of the class room, and sat next to the wall across from the door. I could hear my own sobs echo down the hall ways. Between breathing, I could hear the teacher yelling at the students. Giving that whole bullying speech. She later came out for me, and the rest was history.


One good thing is that mom came to walk me home, I usually I always have her walk me home. It clears my mind. We talked back and forth to each other. The kids watched and laughed at us, but I didn’t care. I had something greater.


We came home to the smell of spaghetti. Dad was starting to make some. I told him I would help tomorrow, so I helped. I mainly made the spaghetti, dad just watched. I turned around to show them my masterpiece. But they stood still. Oh no, not again.


“You have to let go.”, they blurted out. It was like nails on a chalk board. Then they evaporated before my eyes. I was better than this I could usually control them. This hasn’t happened in a long time. I dropped my spaghetti, the boiling water soaked the floor and burned my feet. I ran toward where they stood, and tore through the air. I started to run, I don’t know where. I knew, or I thought I knew.


It was dark, but the place I was going to took time to get there. I ran, barefoot. The sidewalk hurt my feet, the pieces and shards bruised. I fell, I landed on the side walk. I just laid there and started to cry. In mid sob I looked up, a dandelion. I pluck it from the ground and observed it. The petals where bruised. It was a greenish color. Somehow, I found myself in it. Then slowly, just slowly, closed my eyes.


I woke up with a bitter taste in my mouth. I noticed I was still on the side walk, I thought it was a dream. I wished it all was a dream. Scars and bruised clouded my vision, that is all I saw on me, and tattered clothing. I looked up, not far, I crawled up slowly. Tiny pebbles where poking my skin. I walked, more like hobbled, and came to the huge iron gate. The huge iron gate, that I had a key to. I slowly pulled the gate open, the soil mended to my feet. Making me stronger, almost supernatural. I searched through the stones, trying to find mine. Then I saw it. I jogged towards it, but there was a part of me that didn’t want to go near it. I brushed of the dirt. It read, “Mrs. And Mr. Douglass”, and underneath it “mommy and daddy.”


When I was little, I was not educated in poems and wordplay. So how would I write a poem on my own parent’s grave. I remember this stone. This is the stone that was made because my parents pushed me out of the way of a moving car. The glass spilling everywhere, the glass sodden with a blood. The stone, I believe, should have been mine. This is the stone that had a one man funeral, because the I didn’t know how to send invitations. So she would just sobbed by herself while the priest said the prayers. Furthermore, this is the stone that made me pretend my parents were still alive. I took the dandelion and laid it in the middle of both of the two mounds. As the other thousand dandelions. The mounds and mounds of dandelions. I saw them, like in a dream, just standing there. I started running towards them. I screamed “Mom, Dad”, but they just looked at each other. I kept running, tears rolled down my eyes. Everything seemed in slow mo. Them I just stopped running, and thought, “let go.”


Then they vanished, in thin air. I slowly walked back to the graves. I felt no emotion, my mind was numb. I wished, well I guess I was out of wishes. I guess I must have used all of them on the same thing. I solemnly trudged to the graves. I looked at all the other graves. Flowers, candy, anything the people could fit, and pay for. I had only dandelions. There was no will for my parents. So I guess the money was just spread out. No foster parents, I had left enough to pay the bills. Plus a few jobs in the mix. Then a wind picked up, and I was jolted back to reality. I should have gone inside, but the wind blew so hard it started to pick up the dandelions. Then there was a yellow tornado surrounding me. I grabbed a few; I could only get so many. And I watched them start to blow over the gate, then to somewhere. Then I stared at the ground, a clean slate. Then underneath was a rainbow, and that exposed me to new light. One I would never forget.





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Pikahu37PiaPika said...
Jun. 5, 2011 at 6:14 pm
Imma scard nao D,8
 
emma<3 said...
Jun. 5, 2011 at 5:54 pm
BROOKE YOU ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is amazing!!! you are awsome and i love uuuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!!!!(in a sisterly way)
 
LAOB said...
Jun. 5, 2011 at 7:21 am
Quite a profound story!  I get chills every time I read this story.  I can't wait to read more from this author!
 
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