hoppipolla.


He walks as if he is anyone else, but he is far different. The green of his eyes kindled my heart when they met with mine every Saturday morning as he headed to work. All he ever gave was that stare. He didn't even need to give me anything else. Not a wave, not a hello…just his eyes. I'd never thought about what life was like before I moved onto this street. There were no green eyes, there were no sneakers across the sidewalk in front of my house, and there was no boy to fill in those absent shoes. There was a garbage can, and occasionally a newspaper for me to pick up. Sometimes, there would be a book in front of my face, past my glasses. If I was really lucky, the occasional car might drive past.

The paintings I made never had any purpose. Since I lived on my porch, I only saw my porch. My memory didn't want to comprehend the rest of my house; not that anyone would let me in. I slept on my porch, I woke up on my porch, and I lived on my porch, just as it had been back home. Wherever that was.

Once, I read a book about a castle in the snow. A young boy had lived in the same place since he'd been born, but there was a door in his room that he'd never opened. When he opened that door, it led to a castle in the snow. That castle became his home. He thought he would never go back to his house again, but he began to miss his family, because no one else lived with him in the castle. In the end, when he returns to the door, he finds it locked. I've always found the door locked. And there's another door that I don't think I could even find if I looked for it. Even if I did find that door, I think it would be locked, too.

The thing is…I don't live in a castle in the snow. I live outside of it, with the boy and his sneakers. With the sidewalk. With the garbage can that wasn't lonely on Saturdays.

This Saturday, though…when he didn't show up…something else did. An ambulance came, its sirens piercing the silence of the breeze. I stood then, though I hadn't stood from that place even to see the boy as he came. I stood and watched it as it drove on, as it stopped, as people came out of it, and as they went inside his house. I stepped further, my throat dry as I made a couple of lengths down those stairs. Discontent. I felt it as I stared to a house across from mine that seemed to almost replicate every other on the street. Even more discontent followed as I plunged down the steps and ran paused at the sidewalk.

My first kiss was carried out of that house on a stretcher. My first touch was hauled into the back of the vehicle. My first smile was driving away, and I decided to chase it. My last embrace was broken, because the skies were emerald. Because he wasn't going to walk in front of the castle anymore. He'd found his home.


Don't be afraid of what you love. Embrace it while you can. It might leave before you get the chance.

Dedicated to every person I love, even though it's little. It means a lot more.