The Makeover

2

Edited

"Normality is a paved road:

it's comfortable to walk but no flowers grow on it."

Vincent van Gogh

A little over a year had gone by and yet everything felt the same - as if my life had been at a physical stand-still for the past few months.

But to be completely honest, nothing had changed. The only hoorah of the whole year had been the fact that I no longer had to wear braces. My teeth were all fixed up and I could finally enjoy the pleasure of chewing bubble-gum once again.

Oh, the victory!

But thinking back to any other event of the year left a sour taste in my mouth as if I had swallowed a mouthful of lemon juice.

Let us begin at exhibit A. I had spent yet another summer over at my gran's farm. Now, don't get me wrong. I love my gran more than I love chocolate ice cream but being stuck in a car with my family while listening to a combination of everybody else's music always gives me a headache.

Ever since the age of six, my mother had practically started dragging me out of bed at seven in the morning, forcing me to pack an overloaded bag and driving all the way to my gran to escape the suburb we lived in -

- along with my five siblings and youngest sister's imaginary puppy.

The only thing that had changed over the years was that there was no longer an imaginary puppy tagging along.

Had I mentioned that this always happened to be on the first day of summer vacation? It was supposed to be the first time after a whole semester of school to relax, but I seemed to peg it as the most stressful time of the entire year.

Luckily, my grandma's home was a pretty little cottage out in the countryside surrounded by nature - nature being an entire farm. It was always quiet and over the years, I had found some sort of escape from the outside world there.

The blue enclosure with its comforting, flower-decorated walls was like a haven whenever I walked inside.

Not to mention that my favourite colour was blue.

My gran had always found fun things for us to do. When I was seven, she took all of us down to the lake behind the cornfields to swim and have a picnic. At the age of ten, we had a Star Wars Marathon in the living room and for my twelfth birthday - with the help of my brother, of course - she turned the shed outback into an art studio of sorts to keep me busy. She had always loved my paintings.

The sad thing was that Grandpa Jack had died when I was fourteen. Ever since then, Gran looked like she was exhausted all the time, acted as if her false teeth were permanently being a nuisance and smiled like she was reminiscing all of the good memories he had brought her.

Every time I thought of how sad Gran was, I couldn't help but wonder if that was how it felt when the person you loved most in the world was gone. I could barely imagine how it would feel to have your entire world stolen from your very fingertips.

Thankfully, I had no doubt that I wouldn't have that problem anytime soon. I was currently as single as a pringle and not yet ready to mingle. I had a feeling it was going to last for a very long time too.

I was back home now, in my own room, not a speck of nature in sight (unless you counted the artificial flowers on my bedside table and the perfectly manicured lawn in the front yard). The peaceful aura I had once possessed was beginning to fade already.