Gypsy Rose and the Long, Long Road

Gypsy Rose was just thirteen when the day came that she began to follow a road that she had chosen, separate and her own. Her peers had their own ideas of what life should be, but she was different. The daughter of a drifter and groupie, she felt a deep longing. Something was missing from within, and she wanted; needed  to find it. She never felt one of the many, but rather, one of the few.  

 It was a hazy day in Mid June. Gypsy was lagging behind several classmates while on a class trip when she stopped following the group and stood. Caught in the middle of a daydream, and reality, she watched as her peers moved further away. Some formed groups, some staggered along alone, but all of them with an array of emotions as teens often have. 

Brandi and Rocky held hands. Faith smoked a cigarette. Katie lollygagged, Walkman headphones on, listening to New Kids on the Block. Diane walked swiftly, with an err of importance, dorky briefcase at her side. Shanna turned on her lackey and started berating her, shaking her fist in their face. Mike pick pocketed Tom and shoved the stolen money into the pocket of his ridiculous Jenkos. Lori mimed the motions of her newest cheer, and Gypsy rolled her eyes at them.

The power of the daydream pulled her closer into the realm. She imagined herself a famous writer. She wrote songs and poems and books and speeches for the elite. She could be a teacher, an artist, a mother, a wife. The fantasies she wove had begun to take her far away, when the song of a bluebird called her back.  Gypsy squinted her eyes in the bright sun and found the little bird perched atop two splintered signs that had been haphazardly nailed to an old post. Fading white letters read Path Less Traveled, and The Hard Way.  

  It is hard to say which road was which, because they were both off center, but without a second thought she chose a direction and started off on foot. Little pebbles crunched beneath her blue and white Nikes. The sun was directly overhead and hot. She had walked for a while when she began to feel lonely. The path seemed to have become more desolate the longer she was away from the crowd. Thirsty and a bit delirious, Gypsy berated herself for wandering off alone. She second guessed herself, and questioned whether she did want to be like her peers, and have what they had. 

   Unsure of what to do next, movement caught her eye. Suddenly forgetful of any further melancholy, she looked toward the distraction. There it was, magnificent and beautiful! 

There was nothingness, yet everything around her.  A spotlight effect of wide, golden rays of yellow sunshine beamed down onto the beautiful creation before her. She watched in awe as an invisible power lifted the beautiful thing and the platform with which it stood upon into the air. Angels sang, or least she was willing to bet they were, and I shit you not, pink and purple glitter fell from the sky! His name was Chad.

Unaware of the magic at play, Gypsy nonetheless reveled in each passing moment.  Her sweaty palm brushing his hand, just as sweaty as hers, the sun smiling down like it did in the Care Bears stories from when she was a little girl, all happy and sentient and shit. Tucked  away under a bridge, certain her beating heart was audible with anticipation, and then the moment and then; our lips touched. Trumpets called! 

Slobbery and weird as it was, the glitter, now mixed with red and pink and silver heart shaped confetti continued to fall. She jumped, danced, skated, and laughed. She rode around in a beat up Ford truck atop clouds with the number nine! And then, just like that, the magic stopped.

Some other girl stood at the intersection. Thunderheads rolled in. The skies blackened. Strong winds swept everything away. Hail pelted her, and it hurt so very bad. Heavy rains soaked her, and mixed with her tears. 

 Young Gypsy Rose stayed in that storm longer than she should have. Trying to understand her thoughts took misguided turns. She must have done something wrong. There was no other explanation as to why the magic was taken. That other girl must be better. Rejection and heartbreak had left a smoldering wound in her heart.

 All she did know was that she wanted the magic back. She felt better with it. Colors were more vibrant with it. Shit glittered with it!  With a boyfriend, she was special, and feeling special was like magic. So, she regained composure and continued onward in search of that special magic. 

 One night Gypsy had chosen to stop and rest along her way.  She was laying in the tall grass next to a pond, marveling at fireflies glow, when a small talking toad hopped by, and croaked an invitation to her.

 She initially declined, but the freaky talking toad had managed to bewitch her into meeting a friend of his.  A nice date, flowers, and some pretty blue eyes had her feeling pretty happy. It turned out that he wasn't a toad at all!

 For a long while, Gypsy had stars in her eyes. Love letters held her spellbound. The loss of her virginity was just like that of a fair maiden having a chastity belt removed, and in so doing that she no longer felt like a girl, but a fair maiden instead.

A lot happened along the way with the young lad; Brent. What was more, he proposed marriage, and told her that he was empty without her, and wanted Gypsy to mother his children. She felt needed, wanted. Special. Magic. She had found it again. She could not have been happier.

And she was until she fell into a gaping pothole on the part of the road they shared. It felt like it just appeared out of nowhere. It was truly only a little blip in time while she struggled inside. It felt like she was stuck inside that hole for an eternity. It was deep, and a little too dark for her to easily find her way back out from. 

There were creepy crawly things inside. Or at least that's how Gypsy felt about them. She had little to no experience with anything like this. Drugs, pornography, lies, theft, control, and lack thereof. He just wanted Gypsy all to himself that was all. He didn't lie that often. Her friends lied, they were trouble, not him. She didn't want to hurt him. After all, He had apologized. He promised so much. He wasn't addicted to drugs or porn, He was just having fun! She worried she would crush him and leave him empty if she were to part ways with him! 

 Gypsy stayed in that storm too long too. Clouds full of anger, worry, resentment and fear hung over her head. She hadn't realized, but the warm romantic love had turned as cold as the storm front.

The time came when the power and fury of the storm had grown too much, and just as sure as lightning strikes, so did she. Gypsy had learned to ask for guidance from her Goddesses, and successfully harnessed the power from within and burned that relationship to the ground.

She was proud. Maybe too proud. Because for a while, she was mean and cocky. She didn't need anyone to walk with. Afterall, she had left the main drag to follow her own path. She refused to be sad and lonely, and knew better now than to be enchanted by love! Just like lightning, no one was going to control her. Until someone did. 

 Gypsy Rose, now in her twenties, stood dusting herself off because she had allowed a rebel with a nose piercing to take her off my course. Distracted with the chore and berating herself a bit, she was taken by surprise from the sting of a slap right across her backside!

Spinning on her feet, and ready to fight, she quickly lowered her defenses when she recognized the perpetrator, a friend from middle school, Kevin. His boyish laugh, green eyes, and charming smile had her forgiving the assault immediately.   The two talked and the familiarity of friendship offered Gypsy comfort. She agreed to venture out with him later.  

 Flirtatious gestures and comments were shared. There in the humid dark of an August night, compliments about her beauty and embellishments of her being an old crush were baited. Gypsy was hooked, and had already begun to romanticize . He was the bad boy, the cute one who other girls wanted, but he had chosen her!

Fast forward. Gypsy experienced magic only twice in the fifteen years that followed. Once at the birth of her son, and then at the birth of her daughter. 

 Lies, heartache, betrayal, theft, loss, shame, indignity, indulgences, and infidelity. Gypsy lay exhausted in the middle of the road staring up at a full moon. Tears fell from her swollen eyes and shame ate away at her soul like the demon it is. 

 She had lost control of herself.  News of his latest affair, along with a smug crooked smile, while telling her it was her fault had pushed Gypsy to strike out physically. Throughout the years she had spent sharing her road yet again, she had been told that she was crazy, that she didn't know what she was talking about, that her memories were recalled incorrectly. That there was no one else, when in fact there were plenty of someones, but that she should stay because he loved only her.

Questions flooded her mind. Why had she stayed so long? What was she teaching her children? Where was that strong woman who burned shit to the ground the last time things got shady? Where was my god damned road she had been following, and how did she venture so far from it? Never once had Gypsy felt the flip flop of a heart in love in all these years, so what was holding her there? She knew for certain it wasn't magic, or love. 

Tears still falling, she turned her gaze again at the moon. She batted at something that felt heavy upon her face. That's when it happened. Gypsy stood up ,bolt right. The beauty of the moon was different tonight. Silver, white, and pure. It cast a halo with the palest of the spectrum. The sky was not a muted purple, but instead, a deep navy, and speckled with the stars that dare share the spotlight. Even in the night, she could see that the treetops were as green as emeralds. 

 The moon cast her rays down through the shadows of limbs and branches and Gypsy followed the beams with her eyes, to the road that was illuminated. She had experienced this before, but never for such a long trek. Never for so many miles, but there it was, her road. 

Feeling of hope and the promise of a better direction swelled her heart with relief.  She took a deep breath of woodsy, humid summer air. She had to recoup. When morning light came, she was going to perform the biggest magic act of all. She would take all that mattered and her miracles with her and disappear. 

Just as she was turning to devise her plan, she saw something glinting in the light of the moon. She bent to have a closer look, and discovered a pair of glasses. Picking them up and holding them to the light, she saw the colors of the landscape take on a different hue, a pink hue to be precise. Gypsy scoffed, almost angry with herself,... almost. Rather than berate herself as she always had, she found compassion instead. 

  She tossed the glasses hard to the ground, and stomped them, cursing, crying, and laughing all the time. Relieved, and content with her work, she bent, picked up the mangled mess and tossed them into the distance, saying  aloud to all things of the night,

“Hmmph, imagine that. Gypsy wearing and removing the rose colored glasses.”  

Feeling a newfound strength, ( maybe even summoning her original) She set off again.

I’d like to say she found happiness. But I'd be lying. She had grown weary. She questioned the length and very purpose of this journey. Where was this road she chose so long ago taking her?  Did she even have a destination in mind when she chose it? 

 The road that she had followed seemed endless and with no oasis. She had earned many tokens of wisdom thus far, but she still had challenges ahead and lessons to be unlocked along her journey. 

 The truth is that the feeling of being a badass passed quickly. The epic battle that followed was brutal. Not many could see the scars and trauma that Gypsy now carried. She hid them under a fake smile and bleach blonde hair.