Uprooted

Mom tucks her wispy blonde hair behind her ear and starts towards that monstrous atrocity. I want to follow, but I can’t seem to move. My flip-flopped feet are stuck to the pavement. This is not how we were supposed to live.
We are supposed to be on Daddy’s private jet on the way to Fiji or something like that and miraculously, a mansion would pop up.
And a big gold fountain would be in front of it, spitting more honey colored gold. And I would bathe in it everyday.
That’s the way it is supposed to be.