On the left side of the street, right at the sharp corner of the shaded side
Behind the red brick and green roof, there is a little girl
A little girl who sits on her window sill, torn leather journal in her lap and a pen gripped in her hand
Pages full of wishes, dreams and imagination while her parents are downstairs at opposite ends of the house
Together but miles apart
Two strangers who never got it right, who hadn't said meaningful words to eachother in years
Two parents who birthed a little girl who grew into a dreamer who dreamed of a place called a home
This little girl, with her teddy and blanket as her only comrades, lives in the perfect world in her stories
When she was little she was told about wishes made on stars, and 11:11. Wishes that were sure to come true if she just believed
How many different ways were there to believe? She thought there was only one, but there seemed to be a way she had never heard about because none of her wishes were coming true
She shifts her position so she is facing the other side of the street. A light is on in the upstairs window, where a little boy does his piano playing
She likes to watch him, pretend she can hear the music and sing along with the melody
At half past 7, he will come
But will she?
Until then, fireflies catch her attention
Zipping past her window and hovering over the garden down below
Lilies and daffodiles swaying in the breeze
Two fireflies playing like children in the night
Are they family? The little girl wonders
Brother and sister? Built in best friends? Forever and always?
A sigh, another wistful feeling
The little girl would do anything to have a friend
Not her Mom who likes to braid her hair and color with her
Not her Dad who builds forts out of pillows and blankets with her
A real friend
Someone who isn't obligated to care about her
The little girl closes the blinds and tunes back into her surroundings
The square pink room with the ruffled canopy sheet blocking out the glow in the dark stars she loved when she was little but that now creep her out
The tucked in sheets with her teddy in the middle and posters of princesses and ballerinas plastered on the walls
This is her haven, the place she feels safe and warm
But she is always yearning for something more
Maybe tonight, instead of tucking into bed early with her drama shows and wine, her Mother will come in her room and read with her, like she promised she would months ago
Maybe tonight, her Dad will come in and attempt to sing her her favorite lullabye in his scratchy voice that always makes her laugh instead of shutting the door and reading his novel
Maybe tonight they could all cuddle together on her bed and fall asleep, as a family, for once
She knows it is useless to think that now, especially tonight of all nights
At a little after 6, the hallway lights turn on and the sound of her parents making their nightly journey upstairs to kiss her goodnight fills her ears
But this time, instead of waiting under the covers, dutifully, like she always does she will be gone
They will find an empty bed, and a lonely teddy perched on her golden pillow
The breeze billowing in from the windows will ruffle their perfectly coiffed hair
Their surprise at the empty bed will be slow, but their finger pointing swift
They will fling insults at eachother
Never ones to admit fault, they'll forcefully shove blame on to eachother knowing this battle will range on well into the AM
And by the time they actually stop screaming at eachother to do something about their little girl who was too delicate for this world, too much of a dreamer for these adults who were nothing more than kids themselves,
She will be gone for good
Having the kind of adventure, the little dreamer always dreamed
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