In my head, I paint pictures. Swirling around, and around, and around, are all kinds of pictures…of how I wish life could be. I see you and me on a park bench. It’s a hot, summer day, and we watch the little, frantic kids slide down the slide. We look up to see another park bench, all the way across the vast sea of green grass, we see the parents of the little kids, fanning themselves, trying to keep cool.


You put your arm around me, and I rest my head on your shoulder. We both smile. I can’t see your smile, but I know what it looks like…perfection.


I snap back to reality when a harsh yell interrupts my fantasy world, “Lacy, are you paying attention?”


“Yes, Mr. Olash. Yeah, I was.”


“Well, stop staring out the window then. The lesson is up there,” he pointed to the chalkboard which had all kinds of names of famous people throughout history scrawled in white chalk.


“Yes, sir,” I sighed, and watched him turn back to the board. I closed my eyes, shut them really tight, wishing to push out the reality that was no fully invading my brain. I looked at the desk beside me, it’s empty. And I find myself escaping back into my world with the pretty pictures. The pictures I wish I still had.



Why did you have to leave?