It was fall. The leaves were all sorts of yellows, oranges, and reds. I don’t like the cold and I really don’t like walking in it either, but today I don’t mind. It’s a good day and fall is my favorite season. Everyone is seems to be content and peaceful. On this long lonely walk I always think about anything and everything.
Fall has some of the best scents; my favorite is pumpkin spice. Anything with pumpkin is automatically my favorite thing. I remember talking to my mom. She hates fall with everything in her. I understand though, because it was around this time that he always seemed to leave.
It’s weird growing up without a father, I’ve always felt there was something missing, like I didn’t know half of who I am. Have you ever felt like that? Kind of like when you’ve been eating all day but you never become full. I try not to think about it much just because it makes me a little sad. Like there’s a knot in my throat. I’ve never heard anything good about him so I don’t know why I’m so upset about not knowing him or my family from his side. Or even any family at all.
I’m continuing my walk, just sort of listening to the soft pat of my shoes against the pavement. I’ve become so aware of my existence at this point. I feel so tiny and pointless in this big universe. Everything around me is alive and is used almost every day. I’m breathing, my heart is beating, my legs are moving one right in front of the other, my arms are swinging back and forth a little, my brain is controlling every little thing I do. What if that were to just stop? Would it really matter? There’s plenty more teenage girls like me, so what would be the point? Geez, when did I start thinking like this? It’s more often now than it ever was. My confidence and self-love is being attacked by some unknown being.
I’m about 5 minutes away from home. Let’s see what chore there is to do today. Or maybe I’ll be given a shot of luck and be able to take a small nap and procrastinate a little. I’m always tired now, I don’t have much motivation. I peeked in the driveway, no shot of luck, she’s home. I turn the knob on the door. We never lock it, and open it like I normally do. My days are so routine.
The first thing to come out of my mother’s mouth was, “Niña, why are the dishes from dinner still here?” And so it begins, I thought. She kept going on and on and on about how I somehow could never do anything right. At least that’s how I heard it.
I love the peace of fall. It makes me have some kind of hope for myself. But right now this unknown being is really dragging me down. Tugging angrily at my ankles, with such a tight grip around my heart. I want to lie down in the leaves and just sleep. I want to fall into a deep deep sleep. Maybe forever almost. But for now it’s time to wash dishes.