Once upon a time

This is a story using a famous first line from another book...

- Anne Tyler from Back When We Were Grownups "Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person." The woman discovered this when she looked in the mirror today. Her eyes were wrinkled in the corners. Her smile was flat and vacant. Her windswept hair with more grey than she remembered. She pulled back her face, a move she had watched her mother do many years before today, and watched the wrinkles smooth. It comforted her to know that face was still in there, somewhere.

Someday, when she was young and fearless, she dreamt of being a model on a runway in Paris. She dreamt of becoming the greatest photographer for National Geographic. She dreamt of curing the flu. And of fame, and of brilliance. But today? Today she saw a woman. Just a woman. A woman who had accomplished a pile of dishes in the sink and moth holes in her favorite dress. The whistling wind grabbed her attention and pulled her toward the window.

Outside, the world looked grey, or was it just the sky. Wind was striking harder, like tiny pins prickling across her face, through her hair. The window croaked its objection as she shut the world out and sat in the comfy charcoal armchair. Another Oprah’s Book Club winner sat on her left, but today, she reached toward her right. A sepia tone picture in a painted silver frame stood collecting dust beneath the fading lamplight. She realized she had forgotten this picture.

It was a simple family photo. A grown man and cheery young faces stared into the darkness, not knowing their fates. She set it down, dust intact. Let them sit it peace, she thought and got up to look out the window again.

The neighbor’s houses were boarded up. The Johnson’s American flag flitted and fluttered aggressively in the breeze. It looked violent; until a basketball rolled and bounced merrily down the street. It jumped and flew and floated on the air. “My son would love that ball” was her only thought. She ran into the air and plucked the happy, circular orb from the sky. She knew she had not hit the ground, but it did not seem to matter. “I’m coming home, my dear.”

She let go of the ground, of gravity, of it all, and floated and twisted her way into the sky.