Youth's Mist

Youth's Mist Ch 2

Pann

"Great! Another day and more added guilt calories," I mutter to myself as I discard the empty paper plate and stroll around the fountain. Having the inability to pass up the funnel cake vender, and licking said plate for any powder sugar that might have been stuck. I'm determined to complete two sets of yoga and possibly skipping supper tonight. Maybe, then, the extra calories won't show up on my already slightly plump thighs, or the morning scales — a girl can wish. Can you blame me though? It's a Monday; everybody needs an extra boost on Mondays.

I don't drink coffee, so instead of a caffeine kick; a sugary treat it is! If I listed the healthiest things someone could do to boost their energy, I doubt it would be approved by the FDA, given my aversion to certain fruits and vegetables. If I listed the bad things, it would be longer than Santa Claus' list one week before Christmas. I mean, seriously, why is it that all the good stuff in life cost me my size 12 jeans? Just this morning before work, I saw an article entitled "Five Healthy Lunch Ideas." FIVE! But it was quickly followed by "Eighty Things You Should Never Eat." EIGHTY! Ugh! The struggle is real.

Staring into the crystal-clear water, I already feel the stress leaving my burdened shoulders. With all the activities of living in a city of over 20,000 people, the waters soothe me and I let my daily struggles subside, or at least until my lunch break ends. I've been here in Burlap my whole life; this fountain is the one singular joy in my often-boring life.

I stop and dip my hands into the cool water, and turn to see a small girl pulling her mom towards the fountain probably to throw a quarter into the water. My fellow citizens like to treat this fountain like a magic granting, never-ending wishing well, of goodness and great fortune.

I, myself, may have thrown a coin or two in, or most of my imaginary Trust Fund, when I was younger. My parents seemed to have pockets of change, always prepared to feed the magic waters with whatever I felt I needed that week. I wonder what the little girl is wishing for. Should I tell her now to start wishing for a love of calorie-free foods, hair that never frizzes, or for guys that still want girls that bloom a little late in life and still throw money into a fountain when they are 25 years old? The same girl who's still dreaming of a life and that dream may need a jump start.

Occasionally, I stop to swirl the waters with my fingertips. I've always been so thankful for the peace and solace here at the fountain and the City Park as well. Standing at the top of the fountain, where the outdoor orchestra pit is located, I can see the venders to my right, playground on the other side of the fountain, and to my left courts for basketball, tennis, or the occasional outdoor exercise group. People come and go as I make my way around the stone path; families of all kinds are enjoying this bright summer day. Parents are pushing strollers and chasing toddlers. I can hear squeals of laughter and some of tears when the parents pull the kids from the playground. There is the occasional skater, rollerblader, or skateboarder zipping by and dodging the occasional walker. Looking up, it seems kites with tails are popular on this perfect summer day; they paint the sky with their multiple colors and shapes. Everyone seems to belong to someone.

I "belong" only to a tiny studio apartment, a quickly turning brown potted fern that I wittingly named Mr. Plant, and my neighbor, Mrs. Knobsview, who's determined to annoy me till I vacate my space and move far away. Just thinking of my neighbor can bring clouds into my sunny day. She's tried, and failed, many pranks to encourage me to ask the postman for a forwarding address request envelope. If Mrs. Knobsview takes my welcome mat one more time, I'm going to paint my bare bottom and leave that print as my welcome greeting for all to see! I could explain to her that I have nowhere to go, even if I could get a promotion or locate a higher paying job. Sadly, my current resume' would probably state "Graphic Art Designer. Age 25. Experienced in designing dog food packaging. Slightly plump from an over indulgence of all things sugar. Not to be trusted with coins near water fountains. And an exhibitionist artist of nude bottoms to apartment hall floors."

"Sheesh, Get a grip!" I exclaim and turn to the water and wink a good-bye to my distorted reflection and start my return walk to work. It's located a couple of blocks away and, the walk only takes about ten minutes using the safety crosswalks. I feel safe and not bothered by my fellow pedestrians. Everyone seems to be hurrying to get somewhere and usually with a phone pressed to the ear or faces down texting.

I pass a drugstore, a restaurant, and a multitude of other stores prepared to sell you whatever you need for the right cost. I'm not a cynic; it's just that being in advertising helps me see the lucrative side to the business behind "living" in our modern day.

In my tan business slacks, white pleasant blouse, and white sandals at 5'4", I don't garner much attention, never had. Girls in high school seemed to blossom overnight, while I retained my middle school, flat as bacon, figure till college. I see some curves when I look in my bathroom full-size mirror, but still not sure if I have any sort of style to show off my "equipment."

I open the door to Meridith's Moments, notice the front desk is empty and start walking quickly through a maze of cubicles, that a lab mouse would be impressed with, to my "special" location in the rear of the office. I place my purse and bento box in a side drawer at my small desk, turn the computer on, and begin designing an attractive package for another doggie treat that will compel people to buy; regardless of the reviews. Clickety-click, Clickety-click, goes my keyboard, and I zone out everything .