What Happens When Fictional Characters Stop Being Polite and Start Getting Real

Follow the Yellow Path

She sat quietly on the toilet lid, hoping the kids wouldn’t find her. It was only a matter of time before one of her three children blew her cover, but she really needed space and there was nowhere else to hide.

“How did I get here?” she asked while putting her hands over her face.

Then she began to reminisce about her youth; her glory days.

“The world was mine for the taking. I had it all,” she said to the rubber ducks that lined the bathtub. The ducks were good company to keep and, best of all, they could never blab her secrets. She took in a deep, relaxing breath before she took a stroll down memory lane.

“I was skinny, I had the best group of friends, my shoes were red, sparkly and amazing, and my blue and white gingham dress was adorable. My ponytails fell into perfect curls. Everything was planned out for me on my trip down a yellow path and then poof! It was over and here I am hiding in a bathroom from my children,” she lamented.

“The perfect shoes I had now have scuffs; I wouldn’t be able to even fit one leg into my old gingham dress, let alone my entire body. The friends that I made on the trip, The Scarecrow, The Tin Man, and The Cowardly Lion, no longer stroll by my side as we sing about the different types of animals we might encounter. They saved my life and my dog’s life and had my back through it all, even if it meant that they might not make it out unscathed. My friends never hesitated. We trusted each other.” She closed her eyes as the vivid memories flooded her mind.

“But once I had my first child, they slowly began drifting further and further away; even though the Cowardly Lion received the badge of courage, he still left my life. The heart that the Tin Man was given must have stopped ticking along with our friendship.  The Scarecrow probably has a head full of stuffing again and it doesn’t cross his mind to call me. So, here I am. Dirty shoes, a dress I can’t fit into, and I don’t have any friends. Oh! And I found a white hair while I was straightening my hair, which was a big wake-up call for me,” she said while adjusting herself to take pressure off of her knees and hips that had more aches and pains every time she woke up.

“With my amazing dress, shoes, and friends, I followed the yellow path. I didn’t even take any shortcuts where others might have. Those yellow bricks were my guiding light. My shining beacon of hope,” she whispered.

“Now when I see a yellow path, it usually leads me to the bathroom where my potty-training son had an accident. He tried to wipe himself, which backfired. He put the entire roll of toilet paper in the toilet and kept trying to flush it down, which led to the toilet overflowing. So instead of meeting a powerful wizard like I did on my original journey, I had to mop up the yellow trail in the hallway and then call Dwayne. He might not be a wizard, but he is a whiz kid when it comes to fixing our plumping problems.”

The door knob started to jiggle; her children had finally found her. As they charged into the room, she kept reminding herself over and over again, “Someday they will leave home. Someday they will leave home. Some day they will leave home.”