She had the mind of a child, the bright smile of a child, the clueless look of a child. Though a woman she may be, she was a child, untouched by the sights of an adult land. All these years growing up, she was the child of the shore, where the sea engulfs the known to evolve into an illusory horizon. An illusion and no more, could it accurately portray the versatile reality of life? What if she wanted to see what is beyond where the known isn’t known and unknowns are not in need of knowledge? Her desire was to climb up the mountains only to find the white layer of snow covering the surface, purely untouched. The dichotomy of reality was glaringly obvious: a handshake with snow and you are cold to the touch, yet a prolonged hug will leave you burning, a feigned warm embrace. She wanted to realize that the grands of illusions were nothing more than delusions. Stumbling through her wonderland, tumbling towards the shore, she wondered upon the ambiguity. This was her ambition. Little did she know it was a red tailed hawk that landed in the waiting stop, already preparing its departure. The colors were blinding, the voices were demanding. Her screams were overlooked. The shadow of her pain, her eyes that emanated her sordid realization of what love was and what pink, yellow, white but most of all red looked like. The colors of joy, beauty, but most of all, uncertainty in the mind of a child were misplaced, perhaps deceitful.  Walking past people celebrating, gifts being exchanged, smiles illuminating the whimsical night, all mixed up in the biting wind, merely hours later, all alternating into negatives and always terminating. Reality prevailed over what looked like a utopia for a couple of hours. It was a frenzy show. It was a hallucination. The hawk smiled at her, talked to her, shared moments with her only to open its wings to eternity and not her, only to leave and never look back. Only to leave as if the wind wasn’t dense enough to hold it back. Only to vanish without any footprints left behind. Only to become the air she will now breathe. The voices in her head were immortal, lights in her vision were blurring, laughter mixed into screams on this wishful day had already departed. It was a matter of countdown. Her idea of growing up enough to acknowledge was tainted. She let go of the hawk along with a part of herself and that part will always be her favorite; “Dream on it until it’s no longer possible.” She held it dearly in her kind heart. She meant it.