Revisited

Some of you may remember one of my older entries. It was entitled "The Typical American Street". I got to revisit it the other day and it made me think, a lot. I think that is my favorite street out of this awful place I have to call home. It reminds me of where I want to be...where I need to be. It makes me think about the last time I was away from everything. I was ecstatic to be somewhere. And that somewhere was where I felt more home than I did in my room. I took a deep look down the white picket-fenced road. One deep breath. Hold. Release. Like throwing the worries of the past few months out. Letting go of reality. My emotions flew out in a quick outburst. First a tantrum from all the built up rage. Then tears because of the sadness I couldn't show. A big smile for thinking about a few of the things that have actually gone the way they should. Then my body just shut down. I fell straight to the ground with a loud thud. I don't remember much of what happened next, just people gathering around me. I opened my eyes and it gave me butterflies. I couldn't help but stare. Just the way the clouds split so perfectly by the sun. The way they would shine through down to you. I got to my feet and looked around at the little children that huddled around me. They started whispering things I couldn't understand. Obviously it was about me because when I looked at them, they would stop talking. My elbow was bleeding. I didn't care. I looked past the tiny little heads below me and saw the sun shining onto what made the neighborhood so memorable. The tree. Big as could be on the street. Casting a shadow of pure beauty. Underneath it. The white picket fence. The one that lined the street from the stop light to the school. Then I saw something that stood out yet again. The Osals mailbox. A sign in their yard saying the most devastating three words. "House for sale!" I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to react. I never knew them, but it felt as if they would have been the greatest people. I knocked on their door. No answer. No lights were on, they must have been out.