Asphalt dives under the tires of my beat up 2001 Toyota Camry. It comes up for air and collects the scramble of numbers and letters on my bumper. This continues for miles, sailing me farther and farther from home. “It's what you wanted,” I pester myself.

I’m on a journey to find where the grass truly is greener. Somewhere that justifies the struggles of existence prior. This version of life can’t be the best there is. I know true happiness is out there, it’s just hiding. I’ll play along with it’s games and I’ll come out on top.

To start you must go to the root, why is the grass greener there than it is here? The sunlight? The nutrients? The flowers that grace it with beauty and humility? Trying to find where the sun's beams radiate with more aggression, where the soil provides riches no fertilizer could imagine supplying, where the vibrancy of the flowers could be sensed without sight, trying to find that is redundant. These luxuries flourish together. Finding one means you find them all.

How am I meant to win this game? Who knows But I am willing to travel this planet and beyond to secure happiness. Whatever it takes I am willing to give.

The grass on my lawn is golden. Not the shimmering element that forms a medal usually paired with a smile and pain leaving the body in the form of water droplets on skin. The gold on my grass is artificial. Trying to put on a show of wealth and success. Yet when you get closer you notice the bald patches and when you elongate your fingertips to graze the blades they leave you cuts. Soon to be scars. So you’ll never forget the grass. It used to be chlorophyll rich, a green you can’t find in your Crayola one hundred pack. The deficiency of this quality is what makes the grass so cruel. 

I decided to go find taller, softer, denser lawns. That's why my camry continues on the dark sea of cement. The hand on the dash rests comfortably below the E. It’s been there for an unknown amount of time but that won’t defer me from leaning the ball of my foot deeper into the cushion of the thinner pedal.

Deep down I know I’ll never find this eutopia. Maybe because it’s hidden or the location is farther than I anticipated. Maybe because it’s not real. Maybe because I dreamed of this plentiful plot of land no ecosystem can support. All these may be the truth. Honesty that I’m not ready to face yet. Honesty that would deprive me of my hope, deplete any potential happiness.

My foot relaxes off the accelerator as my vehicle sputters to a stop. I grasp my right hand over the bar between the two front seats. My elbow pushes forward till it sits next to the letter P. My fingertips fumble as I fidget with the keys, releasing them from the ignition, allowing the car to close its eyes for some much needed rest. The door swings open with just the slightest push. I hold my breath and brace for the cold as I submerge myself into the asphalt ocean. As I am drowning the darkness of the road robs me of my vision. When my last breaths escape my lungs I can finally see it. The sun on my skin warms my inner organs to my outer extremities. The flowers grant me elegance. The grass, the grass is indescribable. It’s beauty is blinding. A smile fills my face as red rushes to my cheeks. My body falls to the ground cushioned by the lush fields. The grass begins to swallow me whole as it whispers, “welcome home,” in my ear.