oh, mr president | H.S.

THIRTY NINE: Resurfaced

"We become not a melting pot but a beautiful mosaic. Different people, different beliefs, different yearnings, different hopes, different dreams." - Jimmy Carter

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T H I R T Y N I N E : Resurfaced

        Cream colored wallpaper, sanded on the surface on the walls. Pictures of getaway spots, and tranquil oasis hung to bring a sense of peace into the office. A distant sound of baby babbling, and a young woman enamoring attention away from the working parent behind the walnut wooden desk. An expensive plaid skirt on her lower half, while her top half was fashioned in a solid indigo blouse, the collar tied in a simple bow. Her fingers froze. The words on the screen paused, and eyes to stare to absorb the environment she was in.

        Her desk was empty, but her new office was not.  Her five month son was humming to an episode of educational television, with his nanny, Irene, by his side. She was now appointed to the First Lady position by the public and her boyfriend, serving to be a social activist of different topics. She hadn't organized what she was planning to do, but it is said that she can do whatever she desires.

        The American people responded fairly well to the transition. They respected Ophelia's choice to restrict Theodore's presence in the media, and would 'look forward to her legacy'. The couple were pleased by the majority response, and progressed to do other things. Now, that everything has calmed, she couldn't think of something to leave behind.

       The First Lady before her, Michelle Obama, was named fifty percent of the 'coolest' couple of America. How could a simple twenty five year old leave a stamp as big as that? It bugged her diligently. Harry tried to offer a single idea, advising her to be herself and the opinions will fall regardless of how she were to act. She loved that, but it made it harder.

        And she was out of brilliant concepts.

"Marisa!" Ophelia cried out in slight agony and conquest.

The woman with bleached blonde highlights and auburn roots scurried into the scuffs of her platform heels to the rescue of her new employer. Marisa tucked a strand from her simple ponytail to breath calmly. "Yes, First Lady?"

"I need you to help me brainstorm. No, bring the new team in. Please." Ophelia stood from her chair, straightening her knees to pace towards the long table arranged to hold meetings. When Marisa flashed to complete the request, she took a seat at the head of the table with a notepad and a pen.

She couldn't call in her boyfriend's advice; he was busy running the country, even if he were to deny the term 'busy'. This was her chance to think on her own brain power.

"They are all here, First Lady," Marisa proclaimed, pointing to the small crowd filing in. Ophelia was introduced to each person on her staff when they bombarded inside her office a week ago. "So, what would you like to discuss?"

When everyone was seated and accounted for, the First Lady cleared her clouded throat. "I would like to discuss what I can do to leave something behind. I need to leave behind...a voice. I would like some ideas."

Claudia, the director of special projects, clicked her pen to write down the suggestions. "What is important to you, First Lady? Any values, or attributes?" She inquired, pushing up her glasses.