Insecure

"The Brickers"

It was one of those hot summer days. The sun beat upon the gray asphalt. Looking around the neighborhood, obeserving my surroundings it seemed like the places you only hear about. I live in a white-picket fenced communitiy. People sip tea, and eat off of china. The ladies wear heels, and often they remind me of June Cleaver from Leave It to Beaver.
Everyone is so fake. Listening to the children's screams of laughter and the games of tag, I am reminded of my past, my childhood. I still wish I could be a kid. Times were easy; no real social pressure. But even then people were always competing. I always had to be the best, at everything, if not I would be a social disapointment. Talk about pressure!
Well, before I get ahead of myself, I need to stop and think. I need to find my inner utopia. I'm Holly Bricker. Yes, Charles Bricker, the mayor of our city is my father.
He is a tall man, rather lean with dark black hair. His eyes, also dark in color, radiate from his slender face. He is lean, and athletic looking. As far back as I could remember he was always the one. The one I could escape to with all of my problems, the one I could trust, the one my heart shared everything with. Needless to say, we are close.
He met my mother in high school. It is really a romantic story, kind of like a chick flick. They met when my mother had to tutor him for English. He had to pass the class, or else he couldn't graduate. So that was some serious pressure! They are polar opposites. She is short and lean with light blonde long hair. Her green eyes pierce everyone who glimpses at her. She tends to capture the heart of my father just by looking at him. Two years later, he purposed on Valentine's Day. He gave her a long red rose, and while on one knee, he asked for her hand in marriage. Isn't that sweet?
Any way, after they were married she began to focus on her career. It overpowered her time, and she still obsesses about it to this day. When I was born, a few years later, many of the neighbors were apauled that she chose to continue her career, instead of being a stay-at-home-mother. That was typical in our neighborhood. My father considered it an embarrassment to have her not follow what others did. I guess I have to give my mother some credit for sticking to her guns on this issue. But other than that she is very spineless. I don't mean that the way it sounds. She is just very submissive.
My father told me to have a good head on my shoulders and not to act like another "foolish girl."
There is just something about my dad. He gives me advice, he is wise, and he is just always there, and right now, I depend upon that. He is my security, my one utopia.