I had spent so much time picking out this dress. The iridescent fabric shimmered in the lights of the room. Every curl was in place in a mop of ringlets on the top of my head. I felt so pretty. Everything was perfect, but as I looked around the room at the ornate centerpieces and rich fabrics I knew I didn’t belong there. I had been polished up to perfection, camouflaged in diamonds and gold. At first glance, anyone here would have thought that I was a part of this and this a part of me. I kept quiet and to myself. The others took me for reserved and shy. I was, in reality, concealing the southern accent that would give me away as the outsider that I was.

I looked across the room. A tall, handsome man caught my eye. He was fair with tidy black hair and blue eyes that showed no shadow of a hard life lived behind them. He seemed careless. He held his lean frame with confidence and grace. Our eyes met. I smiled briefly and cautiously. He responded with a winning smile that revealed the hint of a dimple. He turned back to the faceless group of women that circled in front of him. I looked down at my champagne and took a sip. I laughed at myself. He represents everything I am not. He laughs and it carries across the room. It’s like velvet and honey.

I begin to consider other things about him, as women sipping champagne are inclined to do. I shake my head vigorously, trying to swat the thought away like a bothersome bee buzzing around my head. He is just another shiny thing in this made-up wonderland. This place that is so very far from home. So far from the smell of freshly cut alfalfa and roasting green chili. So far from the smell of the rain in the hot desert, and the thirsty ground drinking it up.

I miss home so much right now. It’s been such a long road here and the journey has brought me farther away than I am comfortable with. This is such a foreign place. Everything is so strange to me. I feel that at any moment I am going to give myself away. Everything is perfect and beautiful here, but I would give anything to be anywhere else. My mind drifts to the memory of me laying in the sun by the pool surrounded by pecan trees.  Holding hands with a handsome, tan man. He looks at me and tells me I’m beautiful and he really means it. His blond hair is like spun gold in the sun. We had no worries, no expectations. We just were.

I look down at my hands. They are covered in diamonds. I have my father’s hands. A workers hands. They seem oddly out of place under the sparkling gems. My feet ache and I can hardly enjoy the festivities because they hurt so much. The beautiful shoes I am wearing are worth nearly what the dress is. It occurs to me that cost does not equal comfort. I’d give anything for my chucks right now.

I sigh and look back up. The handsome man with the raven hair is gone. I take in the scene in front of me. It screams at me about who I am not, but then it begins to whisper to me about who I am. It reminds me of where I come from. I thought I wanted this beautiful life so much. Now it’s mine in all its sparkling, cold, sterile glory. I want back what I had. I want what is gone. It was warm and happy and comfortable with soft places to land. This world has no soft places to land.

I hate that I had to come this far to learn to love where I’ve been.  When I was little I never really understood why Dorothy would want to leave Oz. It was magical and beautiful and oh how it sparkled. I understand now. I wish it hadn’t taken so long.

“…if I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own backyard; because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with”. ~Dorothy Gale