Greener

Chapter 1 Yellow Patches

In the illusions of a daydream there is a single sliver of hope.  We can take a brief vacation from the mundane tasks of day-to-day life and experience the bliss of our desires.  We can forget that we have debt up to our ears, and the clenching of our angst can be relieved.   The fatigue of our restless minds can expand into possibilities.   If only a daydream could carry us through life
, perhaps it could give us resolve in an uncertain world.  If only we could surrender to this realm, hope would never be lost.  

As I stood in front of the mirror of my bathroom, my raccoon eyes looked back at me.  They were heavy bags accented by crow's feet and pronounced forehead lines.   My hair was stringy straw stuck together by the oils of my pores.   I pinched the forming fat on my waist like an inner-tube of jello were a once flat stomach had been.   My lips retracted back into thin lines of dry crust.    I closed my eyes, as the memory of my old body haunted me.   Her lips were as plump as a ripened peach.  Her smooth porcelain skin was soft to the touch.   She had round hips and a tiny waist.   Her pheromones tickled inside of the noses of men.   In my mind's eye, I was her.   Damn that mirror! 

My feet shuffled across the patches of yellow grass in my front yard that day.  I labored to fit my key into the rusted keyhole of my mailbox.   My hand shook it as it turned.   There were three white envelopes resting on top of a pink postcard.   Junk mail.  I thought to myself.   

"Hey Ashley," said Susan from across the street.

She was wearing a white button-up shirt with snug jeans over her round posterior.   Her smooth, white teeth shimmered with a boastful disposition.  Her long wisps of chestnut, brown hair protruded from her scalp and cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall.   Her lush, green lawn glinted in the afternoon sun.   The flowers in her garden lifted their heads to the sky with the gentle embrace of acceptance.

"Hello,"I responded, lifting my small hand up, as my stomach clenched

My eyes darted back down to the dead patches of lawn beneath my feet.  I snatched the mail from the mailbox as I pivoted on my heels.    There were weeds rearing their ugly heads from beneath the surface of the mulch in my flowerbed.   I remembered how my body ached down to my bones the day I laid it down.   Bag after bag of the heavy chips of wood only gave my flowerbed a sparse covering.   Like a single square of butter being spread amongst many pieces of toast,  there was never enough.   I hated that old cliché.  The grass isn't greener on the other side.   I watered the hell out of my lawn and Susan still had the greener grass.  The only shade of green I had was envy.

My flip-flops slapped against the skin of my feet as I stomped over to my couch.   There was a large orange stain on one of the cushions were my nephew had spilled his drink.   A sigh of grief escaped my lips as I sat down, scattering my mail about on the other cushion. The bright pink postcard caught my eye with its bold lettering and expressive font.

    Daydreams Spa 25% off

    Where all your dreams come true!

Vague ,yet intriguing.   I rolled my eyes.  What kind of spa was this anyway?  Although the question wormed through my mind like a hungry caterpillar,  I dismissed it.   My mind had been captured with an endless list of  adult responsibilities.   Do the dishes. Clean the shed.  Mow the half-dead yard.  Knowing that all these things must be done without the reward of appreciation, I did them under duress.   My husband was inclined to help, but only if it didn't interfere with his TV schedule.   So, I had busied myself that day, and after all of it was done, I had the pleasure of making his evening meal.  Oh joy!