Gabby and I jumped out of the car and ran right behind our mom, arms gliding us gracefully through the air like eagles, flying high on life. The scent of yellow and orange filled our nostrils as we skipped through sunshine.
“Lay down. We have to lay down,” my mom insisted. Of course, Gabby and I did it. Hand in hand, we laid on a flowerbed. The sky was bright with shades of summer blue and milky, white clouds. Light and fluffy ones. A soft breeze blew the scent of flowers across our noses. I could see mine and Izzy’s little noses scrunched. They smelled like fish. Not fragrant-scented flowers at all. No pretty lavender or rose smell at all. My mom didn’t even notice. She was off in that state where you just know there’s something more, probably thinking that we weren’t put on this earth for nothing. This was all just a test for what was to come. My mother had preached that to us for as long as I could remember.
“What do you see, Clyde’s?”
“I see a pony,” I said. I knew that wasn’t what she meant as soon as I said it.
My hand was squeezed with a silent understanding and I heard a sigh. Izzy went next, telling my mother exactly what she wanted to hear.
“I see a whole world,” she said in awe, gazing past the floating pony, witnessing something magical. Something mammoth, something bigger than her. Something my mom saw, too.
“That’s right, baby. There’s a whole world out there. Don’t ever forget that. You hear that, Gabriella? You don’t ever let someone hold you back. You have to stand up for yourself. You hear me?”
My mom was always saying stuff like that to me. I wasn’t like Izzy. Not on the inside. I was easy prey. Even the kids on the playground took advantage of me, bulling me from a swing, or telling me to get off the slide. I always listened, while Izzy punched them in the nose. I was always the quiet one, the one who followed suit, doing what others told me to do.
Even then, laying there in the bed of flowers, staring up at a magnificent world, I saw the little picture. The pony in the clouds. My mom didn’t want us to see ponies. She wanted us to see something more. She let go of my hand and raised up on one elbow, giving her undivided attention solely to me.
“Gabby, tell me you see more. Tell me you see the universe. Something bigger than yourself,” she begged with her hand over my heart.
“Bigger than myself?” I didn’t get it. Not because I wasn’t smart. I was. Just not the same smart as Izzy.
“Yes, Gabriella. Bigger than you. In here. Don’t ever settle. You go get anything you want. Promise me that.”
“I promise,” I said while assuring something I didn’t even understand. For whatever reason. Izzy did understand it. Maybe she got the crazy gene. Who knows?
I pulled a flower from the ground, uninterested in my mother’s intangible beliefs. “These are California poppies. They close up at nighttime. And they don’t smell good. They smell like fish.”
My mom sighed and laid back, taking both our hands again. It was just one of those things you were born with, a spirituality that you felt. There’s no way to really teach that. It’s just there. Inside you. I didn’t understand it and I didn’t have it.
My mom giggled and looked over at me. “Is that what that smell is?”
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? You can’t be in here.”
The three of us tilted our heads to see a game warden. A hat with a large brim shaded his eyes from the sun, and he wore a dark gray uniform.
“Stay here girls,” my mom said as she pulled herself from the ground and to her feet.
“I’m sorry. We’ll go. We didn’t mean any harm. I’m, well…I’m just sort of on a mission with them. I don’t have much time.”
“Much time?” the uniformed man asked, biting the hook. My mom stepped closer to him while explaining her dilemma, the one where she had three months to live. The poppy fields would be something on her long list of things to do with her girls before she died.
That one was a really good one. The guy let us pick all the stinky flowers we wanted, and then took us into town for food. Real food. Not peanut-butter food.
We got a hotel out of the deal for free, too. Five whole nights. Some guy put brand new tires on my mom’s car, and a collection was taken for us in some church we went to with the game warden and his wife.
I loved it there. It was the home I had always craved. The stability a little girl longs for. A bed to call her own. Even though I begged my mom to let us stay, we left that afternoon. With a free tank full of gas, a basketful of goodies for Izzy and me, and an envelope full of money, we set out. Northbound to who knew where or what.
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