Flash Fiction
“What did I want when I started this journey? What was my dream?”
By: Abigail Dawn
Featured in: Issue 17, 2022
It was an early Saturday morning at the start of June. I awoke to the birds singing, the smell of fresh coffee brewing, and the crisp air floating through my bedroom window. The sun hid behind the overcast, and the bees were already getting to work on my flowers.
I gave the freshly washed sheets one last hug, and rolled out of bed. I threw the comforter over the pillows and tucked each corner in before Lincoln, my brown and white tabby cat, decided he wanted to help.
The coffee smelled divine, and the back porch looked like the perfect spot to do some 6 a.m. reading before starting the day.
Before opening my e-reader, I took a glance at my “back porch” vegetable garden, and the hedge that surrounded our backyard. When we moved to the suburbs, I was grateful to the owners of the house before us hated people, because the extra privacy made our backyard my sanctuary.
I opened a new summer read that I had saved in my e-reader library. I was a sucker for a good beach-themed storyline, especially when romance was sewn into it. I put 30 minutes a day aside for reading, and reading only. No electronics. No music. The morning silence and the pages.
This book took place in California, on a vineyard that was just close enough to the beachside. A young woman inherited her grandmother’s business, house, and all the “junk” that came with it. She planned on selling the property and moving back to New York, but something told me that wasn’t how the story would go.
I took one last sip of my coffee, or at least the first cup, exited the book, closed the e-reader and walked back inside.
Lincoln had his face right up right against the screen door, waiting for his wet food. They say that cats don’t know the time, but I swear he can count the days to Saturday morning, wet food day.
I opened the can of salmon pate, put half of it on a glass plate and set it down beside his water fountain. I’m fully aware how spoiled my cat is, but when we found that I couldn’t bear children, my fur baby and my plants are where I shifted my caregiving energy.
We would be a childless home, and that was okay. We knew there was a possibility that I couldn’t have children, and we decided to let life fall into place. If we had kids … great, if we didn’t, that was okay too. We were open to many possible ways of living, because if we set certain expectations to feel fulfilled and life took a different path, we didn’t want to be heartbroken.
I set my coffee cup down on the side of the sink, and went upstairs to grab the laundry basket full of dirty clothes. I walked down to the laundry room, started the water, poured the soap, threw in the cup too, and dumped a load of lights in.
I checked the clock. 7:05 a.m. I must have read for a little longer than expected, but it’s Saturday. I had just enough time to take a shower, put a green jumpsuit on and walk to the farmer’s market, the first market of the year.
~
I took the shortcut by the bike path, and started my trip around the vendors.
First stop was fruits and vegetables, bok choy, lettuce, radishes, peas, strawberries, and cucumbers. My garden wasn’t ready yet, so I took advantage of the fresh produce at the market.
The next stop was cheese. Then croissants. Then finally farm fresh eggs.
The last vendor, where I get my eggs, came running around the corner for a hug.
“Of course you’re one of the first ones here,” she started, “how have you been? What have you been up to?”
I hesitated. I had felt like a failure lately, trying to start my crafting business, but not bringing in as much money as I had hoped, but I was secretive about that part. To the onlookers, they thought I was successful, not knowing how bad things were. I was stubborn. I knew I would make it, I just had to reroute my path a few times.
“I’m good. The business is growing. I’m working on expanding it, changing things up. I have been looking forward to the summer to do a little reset.”
“You really are living your dream,” she smiled, coming in for one last hug before giving me my change back and moving onto the next customer.
I didn’t feel as if I was living my dream. I wasn’t even close to where I wanted to be.
I started walking home with my tote bags full of fresh produce, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what she said.
I got home. Put away the produce. Changed out the laundry and warmed up my croissant to have with my second cup of coffee.
I ate the pastry and stared into the abyss, just thinking.
What did I want when I started this journey? What was my dream?
I didn’t want to be working a 9-5.
I wanted freedom.
I wanted to make my schedule.
I wanted to grow my own vegetables.
I wanted to connect with my community.
I wanted to live for myself, and my family.
My dream became my everyday life, and I stopped appreciating it.
I took the final bite, cleared the dishes, and went outside to tend to the garden, giving myself a whole new lens, a whole new perspective to look through.