I used a writing prompt for this and I want to know what you guys think of it. I know it's rather lengthy but I need feedback! I'm not asking for an edit or a nit-pick, just want to know your general thoughts on the piece. THANKS!
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I remember the way the wind picked up my bright blonde hair and swept it across my lightly freckled face. The way it brushed across my nose and the sound of my giggle when it tickled. The dimples appeared in my cheeks, always tattling on me to the world when I am happy. In my blue sundress with the pretty little bows, I didn't cross the boundary, but my head tilted and my eyes questioned because I had missed something before then. When did the lilacs bloom?
When I was little I didn't know it, but if the wind was from the north, I smelled it. As she planted them, the little old lady next door had to have known that one day a little girl would move in next to her and appreciate her lilacs as much as she did. I believed she grew them there just for me.
I didn't ask or inform my mom, but that warm afternoon I took one of her old Mason jars from the top shelf of the cupboard, probably her mother's before hers. I put the step stool back in place so no one would notice, and then I borrowed a pair of scissors from the drawer as well. Outside, it was convenient that the sides of our house grew water faucets, because I filled the jar halfway with the faintly rusty liquid. Splish-sploshing over to my neighbor's yard, tip-toeing to dodge the sticker patches with my bare feet, I approached the lavender flowers and their scent drew me closer. I must have been in love with them the way I was in love with my lilac-scented crayon; I always wrote my name in purple. Knowing my neighbor was too nice to ever be upset with me, I clipped a few flowers and gently placed them in the jar.
Generally I would have shown the flowers off to my mom or dad, but this time I didn't. I took the jar to my bedroom and positioned it directly in the center of my windowsill, sure to get the most sunlight that way. More than it had been my plan to keep the flowers alive, I dreamed of my room smelling exactly like my neighbor's yard, exactly like my purple crayon. I believed I could capture the scent of an entire lilac bush in a little white room containing Barbie dolls and a bunk bed. I wasn't asking for much.
I sat and I waited.
After five minutes seemed like three hours, I felt it was no use so I gave up on my mission. My room still smelled the way it always had — of clean sheets and school supplies. I was defeated so I went about finding a new assignment, discovering the undiscovered in my very own backyard.
While I was away, Mom must have dropped by my bedroom to put away my clothes or return my backpack to its bedpost. Maybe she spotted the Mason jar and smiled, too. She must have thought it felt a little too still in my room, so she opened a window. Surely she paused long enough to feel the breeze come through and fill the room, carrying the sweet aroma of the lilacs next door.
Hours later, naturally I'd forgotten all about the little Mason jar. Ideas for a new playhouse or nursing a stray dog had replaced thoughts of my lilac-scented dream. Long after supper, I returned to my bedroom, clad in soft pajamas and fresh from the bath tub. As I turned the doorknob, I could hardly believe it when the scent hit my nose. Not noticing the open window, I kissed the Mason jar and relished in delight at my believed success.
Surely Mom peeked in on me that night and saw my smile. And I bet she smiled back at the sight of me, falling asleep and comforted in knowing that dreams really can come true.
