Senior year. The two words brought two completely conflicting emotions to Tamar's heart.
1. Excitement! At long last, the long, insecure years of highschool were drawing to a close. Soon enough, Tamar would be in a college dorm somewhere, living her own life and making her own choices.
2. Tamar felt scared, like a little girl, balking at the thought of growing up. Getting older meant lots of changes...and lots of changes meant lots of anxiety.
As the sun beat down on Tamar's back, forcing her to roll up her three-quarter-length sleeves and tie her long hair back into a ponytail, Tamar jammed her earphones into her ears and took out her iPod. As tunes of melancholy filled her ears, she looked across the street to see a little girl and her daddy blowing bubbles.
The sight caused Tamar to stop and stare. The little girl kept trying to blow bubbles, but she never got it right. Patiently, the father would help her - time and time again - to get those shiny spheres to fly through the breeze. Laughingly, the daughter would reach up and pop the bubbles, then try over and over to create some of her own. The look on the father's face was one of love for his baby girl. The scene of father and daughter caused a lump to rise in Tamar's throat.
Realizing how much of a creep she looked like, standing there just staring, Tamar resumed her walk back home. As she walked, though, she thought of how lucky the little girl she'd just seen was. To have a father who really loved, who really cared...
"I wish," Tamar whispered to nobody in particular, "that I could be that girl." The thought was too much for Tamar to bear, so she shoved it away and focused on the music.
Tamar's stomach growled, bringing her back to the present. Lips grimly tightened, Tamar thought to herself, How long has it been since I've eaten? And then, It's been a few days since I've had seizures. Maybe my panic attacks are getting under control!
Yeah, right. As if Tamar's anxiety would ever be tamed.
Tamar rounded the corner and walked up her driveway. She hesitated, then stepped onto her porch and entered her home.
Into the lion's den she marched.