Rise Up

Liv

I sat on the edge of the porch, a book in my hand. The blazing sun beat down on the straw dried grass. The muggy day made the pages sticky in my hand. Hearing a roar, I looked up. A fighter jet, shooting at high speeds through the sky. My heart raced. That was where I wanted to be. Not a cop, like my mom, not a ground force, like my dad, but a fighter pilot. Flying free through the sky. 

"Liv!"my mom called, jolting me out of my daydreams."Dinner!"I walked inside, in no hurry to get to the table. Dinner at our house was a sad affair. Dad sat in his wheelchair, staring out into space. Mom talked constantly, trying to make up for the spaces between our family. And I sat, stoic faced and silent, waiting for the moment when I could get out of there. Of course, I had to give it to my mom for trying. 

"So, Liv, what have been doing lately?"She sounded so sincere, I couldn't help but answer her truthfully.

"Studying for military selections,"I declared. Mom raised her eyebrows.

"Isn't it awful to be 100% militarized and have everyone vying for high military positions? Wouldn't you like to be a writer or an artist?" she started. I shrugged my shoulders, inwardly groaning. I had heard this a million times, how, had the country been perfectly free, Mom would have written stories. What a bunch of crap. 

 "Okay?" she asked. I hadn't been listening. I just jumped up and excused myself from the table. Stomping up the stairs into my room, I could almost hear my mother's sobs. I didn't care. I slammed my door for good measure. I didn't know where my sudden anger at her had come from. But with it, came a complete determination, to prove her wrong.

I was going to fly.