She’s always wished for days like today

A+photo+I+took+at+the+bottom+of+a+friends+driveway+as+it+snowed

Emma Zawacki

A photo I took at the bottom of a friend’s driveway as it snowed

She spent her childhood wishing on shooting stars and eyelashes brushed away by warm fingertips. 

She used to wish for days like today. 

Days where she is riding serotonin highs and no matter how much goes wrong, there always seems to be more that goes right. 

Her plans to go bowling have been rescheduled. Instead, she filled her evening with a late-night dinner full of stacking cups upon the table and obnoxious pool games in her basement.

And while she had hopes of scoring a strike, she’s overjoyed with trading bright, neon lights for big flat screens and several glasses of Diet Pepsi. 

She no longer pushes back her bedtime due to worrying about college deadlines and ripping off her fingernails; she doesn’t sleep because the giggles that leave her lips are a sound she savors—she’s happy. 

She’s happy with never-ending FaceTime calls and running to Target in a red Cadillac and the ever-growing pile of books next to her bed after countless trips to the library and memorizing the hours they’re open. 

She’s been obsessed with cheesy, cliché romance novels recently. The kind where the protagonist bats her eyelashes and it always works out in the end. She’s infatuated with happy endings and the joy that fills her as the words she’s reading start to fill her head. 

She walked up and down the library aisles in search of pop art covers and couldn’t help but feel mature as she perused the adult section of the library.

An easy read is exactly what her soul has been craving, and for once, she’s indulging in this desire; she’s doing something good for her mind.

She walked up and down the library aisles in search of pop art covers and couldn’t help but feel mature as she perused the adult section of the library. ”

There is no word other than “happy” to describe how cheesy romance novels make her feel. She’s found herself romanticizing parts of her life she used to dread, like the short, chilly stroll from the door across from room 139 to the door of her car and her limited skincare routine. 

The gray blanket that stays draped over the bed sheets is an inviting presence as she settles in for the night—a night that is going to be full of far-away places and chivalry that’s supposedly dead and classic tales filled to the brim with alliteration and allusions. 

She’s been floating recently. 

Walking on the very tips of her toes and savoring the feeling of snow as it gets stuck on her eyelashes and blankets and her hair, and the sunsets have been prettier than ever recently; she loves the way she feels currently. 

The sun used to not be a friend of hers, but she and the morning rays are slowly mending their relationship, and she couldn’t be more grateful for it.