text: When Julie was born, she was born an original. For awhile, before she knew better, she was content. But then came Jon and Jane and soon, she was made to be part of a trio. Her parents were once in love but that time had passed and it made her sad that they stayed together. So she promised never to do that to herself. To stay restless and never to drop anchors tethering her to one little place. She grew tall in a small small world. She surmised that problems in a small world must be to scale, and thus solvable. And her name was a problem, so she went away to the field of imagination. And there she saw a dream - a swirl of ash and leaves twisting and turning together, agitated. They reminded her of herself, spinning and spinning and not going anywhere at all. So she decided to leave and to rename herself Ashely. She flew from one town to the next and she never fell in love so she never had to stay. Each and every decade she started anew. Fresh spring, fresh fall, the leaves turned green to brown and fell to the ground. She picked up a drink because it helped her think and it slowed down the seasons. One glass led to the next, she set in her ways. Jon and Jane called out her name, but she was too busy spinning to come up for air. So she spun without a care for any one specific thing. Gone went the years and her red hair, too. Just another small small problem, so she donned a wig and tried not to care about that either. She sat and listened to strangers and put their fragmented minds together. Their lives and dreams and fears were far far away, and thus safe to contemplate. But before the last piece was complete, she was gone again. After all, who had the patience for 10,000 puzzle pieces and she’d helped enough already, hadn’t she? Ashely liked to play the game of pretend. But she never married because a man is big and real, and she preferred things palmable though not palpable. Jon and Jane settled down and had kids of their own and she sent them movies and toys and taught them the magic of make believe. But all that imagination takes a toll, and it’s hard to live in a world where nothing’s tangible and it’s all just small small problems stacking up and becoming bigger ones. And speaking of problems... the drink got drunker, so she put down the glass and picked up the pill bottle. For she’d given to others, so why not take for herself? That crackle of pills shook like a maraca, music to her ears and she twirled to the beat. But with each pill she popped, the earth beneath her feet fell further and further away and no matter how fast she flew, she knew she was spinning in the opposite direction of the world’s orbit around the sun. And she missed her hair though she’d never admit it and she missed her mom and stories that had happy endings. But her sardonic sensibilities set a precedent and she couldn’t want for those things now. What was the point of wanting what could not be got? So she spun a web of withering words and tore out of town again. And she spent all her money and she drank again and stopped again and she tried new jobs but they were all on a different frequency. Like they were on FM but she could only play on a tape. Try as she might to wind and unwind, she was obsolete and she felt it. The ash and the leaves fell at her feet and her shoulders hunched but she pushed them back violently. She had to stand, for she was too proud to sit down. Ashely slept in her car with only her dog for company. Gryffindor she called that Great Great Dane, and she barked at Ashely’s frequency, even if it was only music with no lyrics. A tune was better than none at all to twirl to. Now it was winter and there were no leaves, only ash. And yes, the fires burnt out as soon as she set them. She went to the doctor because she was cold, but he was colder. And yes, she needed money but she had her pride if not little green papers. Who decided upon wealth and worth, anyways? Jon and Jane were worried, but their wrinkled foreheads stressed Ashely out and she hated to see them. So she called when she knew they wouldn’t pick up for a few times, mentally preparing herself for another lecture on responsibility and being a productive member of society. But Gryffindor was braver than she, and the barks gave her solace. They were going to be okay. Until the puppy got dogged on old and her fur wrinkled and all Ashely’s money was gone to pills and pours. And she had no more for her little companion. And she cried and cried but Gryffindor still died and her heart was in life no more. She finally agreed to sit down and feed with family, though they were more interested in telling than listening. Laughs came out like coughs, and smiles were smothered with responsible nods and she’d seen too many raised eyebrows in her day. It was enough to close her eyes and never open them again. But she loved Jon and Jane so she tried, at least a little. But she never tried quite hard enough. And her chest started to hurt and she thought it was a problem, but the doctor said it wasn’t. So she figured it was just the pain of life until she had a heart attack and was found a day later. The people cried for enough time, but not for too long. And Heaven was full of dogs and long locks of hair and the people who cared on earth forgot to up there. And she was happier.