Introducing DS

It was weird. When one first thinks of the color of eyes, they don’t think much of it. Not me. In kindergarten I wondered why my eyes were blue and if they could see certain colors that people with, for example, brown eyes, couldn’t see. Honestly, I still think about the topic itself, but it’s been 10 years. Most people would have dropped it within the hour of thinking it. Also, not me. I can hold a grudge against someone that had done my friends and family wrong, but say sorry to someone that hurt me. A lot like my grandmother can. When I hear the word ‘grandmother’ I think of a woman that stands tall, but is actually short, with her leg on top of a pointed cliff holding a grey toy poodle in one hand and the other with a wooden spoon and a face set with determination. That’s my grandmother, or granny. Now, I focus on how the hell a football game works and what a first down is. I’ve heard of touchdown, never a first down. All because I want to understand why my boyfriend’s arms are covered in bruises. I think of the different shades of colors and the roads that will never be found. Now I think of the little boy whose parents just walked out the door to buy a rotisserie chicken instead of spaghetti for the fourth night in a row and the thoughts and tears from the clouds in the sky. I think of the different species and colors of sunflowers, and the latest song by The Lumineers. I think of what it’s like to be a girl with a family of gold, and what it was like being a skater in the 80s listening to Aerosmith and Ac/Dc. Even though I can't roller skate to save my life, you can never tell what that’s like because you can’t see what’s inside of a person’s mind or even a little bit past the mask they so clearly display. A person that doesn’t like meat won’t understand why a person that does like meat, eats it, or vice versa. Will I be accepted to an ivy league college or will I be the waitress struggling to provide for three kids while their father sits in a bar with a woman that isn’t his wife on his lap? Would I be a nurse if I do go to college, or will I be the English teacher that plays Americana and Classic Rock music while her children write essays about an argument they had and lost to themselves? Would I be the lady with a petting zoo for little children to come by and see everyday? Will I have children to spoil and scold for 18 years? Will I even make it to my 18th birthday?

It’s funny to think that you see a girl with glasses and a cute backpack that stumbles down the stairs to get to class, but you don’t hear the raging thoughts that reside in her little head and the feelings that rest her large heart. If only life were that easy.