My ticket read: Drop This Ticket In The Proper Place, so off to the Proper Place I go. Somewhere where it snows on Mondays and Fridays are considered the day of rest. Rolling hills dot the country side and the breeze is always at my back. The sun shines most of the time, but it is never above 70 degrees. There is no humidity here either; so your hair is never so frizzy that it takes down the brush as you try to tame it. All the flowers are blue, lime green, and purple, not the deep reds and yellows that most people fawn over. Creeks run into ponds of bright pink and poke-a-dotted fish. Wild horses run wild and free, their black hooves pound the ground with extreme power. You can tell by their eyes that they have all of the answers. Most important of all there are not any bugs here! No spiders, mosquitoes or other things that go BUZZZZ! in your ear.
My house changes with my mood. Sometimes there are large windows and other times none at all. But there is always plush carpet, the kind that feels like a lamb. My bed is huge, I mean taller than me huge, and it has all the pillows that you see in the magazine pictures. Here I know how to drive and never have to worry about hitting Mr. Mike’s reflectors when I back out. My family is close and yet I always have my space. When you step into my kitchen you will only find watermelon and Sunkist. I now know that it is all man needs to survive.
At night, you can see every star in the sky. I know all the names of the constellations because here they all have name tags. The moon is always full in the Proper Place. The Proper Place for everything, if only it existed outside of my head. Still no worries, I have the ticket and I can visit anytime I please.