When I was younger,
Back when Lily was still on earth,
Back when my parents acted like parents,
And back when I didn't know any better,
I always dreamt of flying.
I yearned to touch the clouds with my fingertips and feel the rush of being so high up in the air.
I imagined of swooping down and up; dipping across the canvas of an evening sky that would be painted with warm hues of pinks and oranges.
I would soar along with the birds of the sky and wonder if I would be able to live up in the clouds for the rest of my life.
I remember reading the story of Peter Pan in my bed, fantasizing that perhaps one night, Peter himself would come through my window and take me away to Neverland.
We would fly through the night and into the stars.
Years later I occasionally had those type of childlike thoughts; of freedom, but they weren't for the sake of feeling the thrill of adventure or that wonderful rush of enjoyment... they were meant for the yearning of escape.
To escape from the horrid life I was stuck in.
Out of pure desperation and hopelessness, I would shamelessly leave my window open and hope that perhaps Peter would miraculously arrive and rescue me.
I settled for any opportunity to even give me the slightest pathetic ounce of hope I could confide in.
I guess after so long, Peter did come and take me away after all, even if it did take so so long and even if it wasn't really Peter Pan himself that did the task of whisking me to safety.
It was worth the wait, it was so worth it.
There was a pile of paper.
The first time I caught sight of it was when I was lounging casually on the sofa with a novel in my hands and my legs dangling up in the air.
I was still in my pajamas of course and my untidy hair bun was collapsing on me.
I saw a glimpse of the pile of paper, nestled messily on the coffee table and at the time, I didn't really notice it.
I guess I only was able to recall seeing it because that particular pile stuck out like a sore thumb and I made a mental note to tidy it up later.
The next time I caught sight of it was when I was grabbing the juice carton from the fridge.
I shut the fridge door and spun around in my socks, quite clumsily actually and I had to lean on the refrigerator to brace my fall.
I had since changed into one of Elliot's shirts and a pair of grey sweatpants, and I fixed up my hair into a braid.
Seeing the pile, it triggered my memory of the task I set myself to clean the hallway of the house.
So after finishing up with my quick meal, I set out with the job by first taking out the vacuum to give the flooring a do over.
With the machine up and running, I quickly retrieved Elliot's iPod, which he must have forgotten to take to school but was all the while convenient for me.
With both ear buds plugged in, I dragged the vacuum along, jumping over the cord and kicking away stray toys, all the while dancing along to OneRepublic which I wasn't ashamed of doing since it was an empty house after all.