Dreaming in Lilac Skies

Dinner

I remember what it was like growing up. Seeing my mom smile to me as she sung me to bed, and as my eyes got heavier and heavier till i forgot about everything. And i transferred into a whole other universe. Dreaming was my favorite thing to do as a kid. I could use my imagination to create anything i wanted to. I loved the feeling. 

As i grew older, i saw my parents talk to each other less and less. They would always smile whenever we were all sitting at the table eating dinner. They would ask the same old questions. "How was daycare sweetheart?" My mother said as she smiled. I respond back, telling her all about Eliza and how she won against a football game against all the boys. "You girls should be playing with dolls, not playing a boys game." My father said as he shoved more Del Monte greens beans in his mouth. My mother looked at him, for what seemed like such a long time. It seemed like he was telling him some sort of message. A sort of message Mrs. Pennie, my daycare teacher, gives me. For what seemed liked 20 minutes, watching my Mom give my Dad "the look" but then only to realize it was only 10 seconds, as my mother quickly turned back to me, smiling. 

"Well" she said, trying to think of something to follow up with. "I think its great that Eliza won! Did you participate?" "No. I don't like the person who was pitching." "Well why not?" I told her why, the whole story, which i thought i was telling well. Like i was an author getting to the climax of the story. The pitchers name was Nex. In our first month of daycare, he said my legs were as big as a t-rex and ran away. I hadn't forgiven him since. "Well that's good darn it! Girls should be cookin', not playin-" As the words came out of his mouth, i heard a bang. At first, I thought it was our cat snow. I named her snow because she was white and had green eyes, like me. When i looked into her eyes, i saw grass, as i felt wind all over my body and heard birds chirping and saw squirrels running and deers peering around the corner. But when i looked into my green eyes, all i saw was me. Which whenever i thought about it, it had always creeped me out. As i looked behind me thinking i would just see my cat, who knocked over a book off the shelf again, i heard my mother.

"Trevor, didn't we talk about this?" "I can say whatever i darn want, Martina!" As i heard more and more screaming, i finally turned my head to see my father holding a glass bottle of wine above my mothers head. I wish i could give you some sort of descriptive feeling i had, or what it had reminded me of. But i can't, because i had never seen anything like that before in my life. It went so fast, but so slow as always. I looked at my fathers face, and saw fire in his eyes. As if the house was about to burn down, In the reflection of his eyes, i saw my mother. Fear. I felt it. I felt her fear. Before i could think, before i could scream, before i could cry, i saw the bottle hit my mothers head. Wine and blood getting all over her lilac dress. I liked when she wore that dress, it reminded me of when Father would go out of town and we would go on picnics with Eliza without his permission. Its as if seeing when my mother fell to the ground, blood dripping from her head, it was like a meteor covered in fire hitting a beautiful, kind, lilac sky.