Balance

She went to a catered garden party in the prim and trim subdivision. She knew it would set off a firestorm in her head. Not that she wouldn't enjoy the event and the hosts but because of how she was raised. Her family taught her to expect that this is how life should be. This thought lingered and followed her home. She knew it would but she had decided to get out and go to the party anyway. "It's not good to stay in your own comfort zone forever," she told herself while putting on her polka-dotted party skirt.

After the party she came home and flicked on the TV and watched a murder mystery to drown out her thoughts. When she woke up the next morning she recalled the party of gourmet sandwiches, imported olives, and assorted cheeses presented under a tent. She also recalled the tour of the hostess' home. It was like a doll house. The surfaces were without dust and the shiny wooden floors were without scratches. It was a fantasy stage set just like the photos in design magazines. Even the small cluster of garden plants were all tastefully arranged, in bloom and weedless. She recalled glancing up and down the street and noticing that all of these little homes and gardens were done up to the same pristine pitch. Was it a competition, peer pressure, a war? She couldn't imagine one of her own pieces of furniture belonging inside the doll house or the garden.

She got out of bed and let her dog into the yard. She noticed white rumpled papers in the corner of the chain link fence near her peeling yellow garage. She was in the habit of picking up trash in her urban, impoverished neighborhood. As she got closer to the gate she realized the white tissues were smeared brown. Her garage alcove had been used as a toilet. After the moment of shock and disgust she ran into the house and got a bunch of used plastic bags to cover her hands and she cleaned up the mess. "How sad, some poor soul had no place to go," she thought.