in my room that led outside and ran towards it. I swung the door with a heavy hand and ran out.
I found myself in a field of flowers. Begonias, tulips, and roses surrounded me, their colors mimicking an artist’s vibrant, colorful palette. Its vividness made me so giddy that it’s sickening. The clear blue sky seemed beautiful but hopelessly endless. The breeze blew my hair, which was back to its original color, into messy disarray. Now, this is a sight to see and capture.
I felt a polaroid camera in my hand, raised it, and took a picture of the flowers. I took multiple pictures, but I didn’t look at them and only shoved them into my small, brown satchel that I happen to have on after printing them out. I ran through the field with my arms outstretched and laughed hysterically. It was so beautiful I could cry. And I did. Why?
I ended up at the end of the field where the flowers no longer grew. Only green covered the earth like a blanket. I rested my hands on my knees and heaved, my chest rising and falling heavily. Then I took another picture, desperate to remember that I had even come
Haddassah Fisher