story of my life

This picture is worth 1,000 words!

I’ve been scraped and bruised. My head has been pounded onto the ground time and time again, all for a few hours of beauty on the sidewalk. For rainbows and skies, for clouds and butterflies. I am the one that takes your imagination and transforms it into reality. Yet, does anyone seem to care? Do the children care as they squeeze me tight? Do the parents care as they take my body and throw it carelessly into my home? Do the neighbors care as they kick me away while they’re rushing down the sidewalk to their cars? Does the dog care as he sinks his teeth into me, slobbers me up, then leaves me all alone? No, no one cares. Not the children as they scrape me up, or the parents as they flick me away. Not the neighbors as they push me like a soccer ball, or the dog as he uses me as his bone. No, they are all indifferent to my pain, to the suffering I go through. 

It was a clear and bright spring afternoon. The children were running about, playing and chasing one another. Then, one of them got the brilliant idea to draw on the sidewalk, and that’s where I come in. At first, it was fine. There was the usual squeezing and scraping, the rolling around and so forth. Just another average day, until of course it became UN-average. Their mother came out, telling them it was time to go. Now, normally, they would have picked up all the toys and messes, including me, but today was different. Apparently, they were late. So the children and their mother rushed inside, leaving me alone on the sidewalk. At first, I thought it was freedom, at last, but then I began to worry. What if they don’t come back? What if a cat comes and takes me away? What if...

No. No more “what if’s.” I told myself I was going to be fine. No need to worry myself. So I lay there, on the sidewalk, basking in the sun. Except, after a while, there was no sun. Yet there was no moon or stars either. As I wondered what it could be, I heard the first deep rumble; the sky was roaring! The last thing I remember was a flash of blinding light before I was flooded with water. The sky was unleashing its tears upon me, burying me beneath a never-ending downpour. Was my life about to end? Would I never feel the reassuring squeeze of the Child’s hand? Never feel the sensation of flying as Mother tosses me into my home? Would I never get the chance to roll around without a care in the world as the Neighbor playfully moves me around? Was I done with being refreshed as the Dog carried me around, letting me feel the cool breeze I never felt while laying on the ground? It was the end, but maybe the beginning. The beginning of me seeing the life I really had, a good life. 

Too bad I was going to die.

So there I was, waiting for a miracle to happen, for it to stop raining and the Family to come back home. I wasn’t scared, I mean, I had just figured out that I had a pretty good life, so didn’t I deserve a second chance so I could appreciate it? I learned my lesson and all. So I waited...and waited...and waited...and nothing. I was melting away, a real life Wicked Witch of the West. I was about to die, and then...

Nothing. Still no miracle. My life sucks. And to top it all off, the storm is picking up, with gusting winds that roll me around like a puppet. I am tossed and twirled, making me so dizzy I can’t make sense of where I am, until eventually, I am rolled onto the grass. The grass! I won’t melt on the grass! The cozy green stems protect me from the rain, keep me safe. But only for a while, because then, the storm stops. The darkness fades away, and suddenly, the sun is shining once again. I made it! I survived! I guess miracles really do happen. One thing is for sure, I will never take my life for granted again. Ever. You never know how much time you have, so you have to enjoy it while it lasts. Live every second like there’s no tomorrow, because there might not be. 

Thump.

Was that the door? Yes! The kids are home! They’ve come back to play! And they even have a friend over! I’m so excited! They head over to me and the others, and my excitement builds. Finally, it’s time to...oh no. Oh no. No. No. No. NO! They don’t just have a friend over, they have Tony over. Terrible Tony. He doesn’t believe in drawing gently, he believes in chucking things and breaking them. He believes in squeezing so tight, you can’t even breathe. He believes in everything Terrible. I can’t do this. I need to escape! But where to go? I try to blend in with the grass, but it doesn’t work. It never does. That’s the problem with being blue, camouflage isn’t your strong suit. Terrible Tony saunters over to me, his eyes glinting with menace. I’m terrified. He steps closer and closer until he stops. Yes! He’s off to play with the truck instead! I feel relief wash over me. I am safe. I am too busy basking in my relief that I don’t notice the shadow that looms over me until a hand is crushing my middle, squeezing so hard I can’t catch my breathe. I look up, and there he is: Terrible Tony. Apparently he’s decided to play a game that involves throwing me into the truck. The truck that looks like it’s a mile away. The truck that I will never land in unless I am chucked.

I hate my life.

~otw