~dream~
"Hey mommy, look! Look! Snowflakes are falling from the sky!" The little girl said, 6 years old, holding hands with her mother, and her father sitting next to her. They were on a bus, heading to the airport, visiting family for the holidays. The mother laughed, "Yes sweetheart, now, come sit down, and I'll read you the story of Jack Frost." The mother told her daughter, knowing that that was her daughters favorite story. And, as she guessed, the little girl, with eyes filled with excitement, and nodded. She sat back down in her seat, holding her Fathers hand. It was comfortable, it was one week before Christmas, and it was snowing in Colorado, Which was where they were. It was nighttime, so you can see the full moon shining proudly up in the sky, shining down on everything, creating light and shadows. While the mother read, the girl was getting sleepier and sleepier. After they finally arrived at the airport, the girl ran off the bus, and waited by the doors for her parents. When they hopped off the bus, with suitcases in hand, they stood their waiting for a friend of theirs to give them their tickets, they already bought and checked-in ahead of time. So while they waited, the girl then started crying, and ran to her parents. She yelled, "I left my book on the bus! We have to get it back before it leaves!" The girl was sobbing now, tears staining her face, falling onto her dark blue winter jacket. The parents looked at eachother, then the father told the girl, "Stay with mommy, I'll go get your book." And he walked over to the bus before it closed it's doors. But while the father was still on, the bus closed it's doors, and drove away. But luckily, it drove across the street, to pick up and drop off more passengers. The little girl, who got scared at first since she thought that the bus wouldn't return her father, saw her dad walk off the bus, and ran across the street, cars avoiding the random little girl who was laughing while running to her father, oblivious to the cars. The father, with wide eyes, shouted at his daughter to wait. So the girl just stood where she was, since she was so young, she thought the meaning of wait, was to stop. But the father didn't see the rushing taxi, until the taxi was inches away from the little girl. But, at the last minute, the little girl was pushed by her mother, so the taxi hit the mother, but not her child. The taxi driver, realization hitting him on what he just did, got out of the car, and seeing if she needed help. The girl, who was on the ground, was crying, cause of her mom was not waking up, and just stayed where she was. The she heard a loud honk, and looked up, with terrified watery eyes. But the car didn't slow down. So, for the second time, the girl was pushed out of the way, but instead by her mom, it was her dad, who was hit by the car, not the child. So when the car hit him, the book he was holding that belonged to his daughter, flew out of his hands, and landed next to the girl, who was on the ground, between her non-moving parents, frightened by the sight that was in front of her. She looked at the book, and slowly reached out for it, and cradled it in her arms, the only thing she knew wouldn't leave her. In twenty minuets or less, the ambulance came, taking the mother, father, and the daughter. At the hospital, while the nurses took the little girls parents away, a police woman, sat the girl in front of her, and asked her what happened. While the girl, trying her best to explain what happened, the woman wrote down everything she heard. Then she asked the little girl "How old are you sweety?" The little girl looked up, "Six." The woman smiled softly, and wrote that down. "Last question okay." The little girl nodded. "What's your name?" The little girl whispered, "Alexis, my name is Alexis winters." While she clutched her story book in her gloved hands.
~end of dream~
I woke up, sweating, and crying, the dream being so real, so vivid, it seemed like it happened yesterday. But no, it really happened 9 years ago, on our way to visit our family for Christmas in California. After that incident, my parents didn't make it, and was held a funeral for them, the day before Christmas, on Christmas Eve. On Christmas, I sat in my new room I shared with five other girls, at the Ruby's orphanage. I didn't go downstairs, opening presents that Santa had brought me, or eat the leftover cookies Santa hadn't eaten. Or eat and play with the little mini toys and the candy I received in my stocking, no, I didn't do any of that. I stayed in my bed, thinking, when will my mommy and daddy pick me up from this place. But my question was answered when I turned 8 years old, when I lady from, I believe, social services, told me, that day, on Christmas eve, where those two large boxes being taken down into the ground, was the funeral of my parents. That meant, that I would never see my parents again, that no more story time with mommy, or holding hands with them, being tucked into bed, kissed on the forehead, no more trick-or-treating with dad holding my bag of candy and my mom walking my up to the door. No more dads favorite turkey and gravy, his style. No more christmas, valentines day, Easter, Birthdays. None if that ever again. I remembered seeing everyone else's stares of pity, feeling sorry for me. I remember sobbing, yelling "I don't believe this, they are still alive." But it was true. because since then, I never once seen my parents walk through that door, never once heard my moms story times, never once having my dad make faces at me, making me laugh.
