Seeping Into Reality

Olympia

I walked into my house and saw my mom running about the house as if she was getting chased by pigeons.

"Mom?" I asked. "Are you alright?"

"Just fine dear, I just can't find my white scarf..." she paused at the door to give me a hug

I hugged her back. "It's in my closet. I borrowed it earlier this week." I walked to my room to retrieve her scarf. Walking back out, I asked, "What do you need it for anyway?"

"I'm meeting with Dale for supper tonight and I just wanted to wear it." Mom replies while wrapping her scarf around her neck. Which looks good with her black jacket, jeans and her coral pink shirt.

"Oh, okay." I look at the photo of mom, dad and I. "You're not trying to replace dad, are you?"

My mom's eyes seemed to sadden. Just like the day of dad's funeral. "Oh, honey, not at all. Nothing could ever replace what I feel for your father.  I just thought it was time for me to move on. You understand, don't you?"

I thought about the times we shared. My dad was the king of our small kingdom while my mom was his beloved queen. And I was their princess. After my dad passed, our kingdom fell into despair.

My mom deserved happiness again in her life. Maybe, I thought, this would be her chance.

"I understand." I said with a smile. "You deserve happiness again."

She smiled brightly. "Thank you so much, Olympia." Mom hugged me before sliding on her boots. "I'll home around nine. Love you."

"Love you too." And with that she disappeared out the portal into the outside world.

I sat on the couch and began my homework. My thoughts began to wander...

With quill in hand, I began to write a royal decree for the king. Something about taxes. Bells rang. Signaling the dinner hour. I walked to the doors only to find that they didn't open. I tried every door that I could find. None would budge. I did the only thing I could do, which was run into the door...

I was looking up at the ceiling with a throbbing pain in my head. And the bells I heard was the microwave timer going off. Which meant only one thing, food.

I stood up and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a small pitchfork before opening the door and taking out my leftover pasta and eating it as I sat down at the table.

I've met Dale a couple times at Crabby Authors. He's a nice guy, and I like him. But I'm not too keen on calling him dad.

I again, looked at the family photo. Falling once again, into the memory of what it was like to feel on top of the world.