Where the Grass is Greener
Notes: The moment I read this prompt, I was like 'I have a favourite poem with a similar title', and after re-reading it, I just knew that that was my inspiration for this little ficlet. The poem is by Eric Hanson.
6: Where the Grass is Greener
Summary: Everyone's trying to go 'where the grass is greener', but what if that place doesn't really exist? Like chasing a dream you will never touch…
To the outside world, they looked as though they had everything.
They had a farmhouse back in Kansas, the traditional family home.
They had a massive business which made loads of money and held a prestigious name.
They each were someone, brothers at the very least, but they held titles and names of their own in the big wide world.
But, if that world saw them as they truly were, it wouldn't think the same.
Yes, they had an Island, which was great and a perfect place, but it was too big a land mass for the few people they had at home. It felt vacant though it was bright: and hollow though it still held together.
Everyone's trying to go 'where the grass is greener', but what if that place doesn't really exist? Like chasing a dream you will never touch…
What if grass is greener on the other side,
Because it's always raining there,
They didn't have the sun shining on their backs like the world thought. Reporters who spoke of the Tracy family and all their assets. They didn't see the gloom that held strong like the shadow of a dying sun in winter. They didn't see the rain clouds constantly hovering overhead, waiting to release a downpour.
They didn't see the turmoil that only each other were allowed to be privy too.
Where the ones who never fail to give,
Hardly have enough to spare,
They didn't see that Virgil, for all he ran around after others, gave everything of himself that he could, was doing that to fill the void. Because really, he had nothing left to give away, but there seemed to be nothing else there. It was like having a bleeding wound and nothing to staunch the red flow with.
Virgil gave because he could not take.
Not like the world had taken from them.
Where the people with the broadest smiles,
Have pillows filled with tears,
They didn't see that Gordon, for all he smiled bright and bold, was doing so to hold back the waterfall of tears that wouldn't stop if he let that merry look drop. It was like having a punctured tyre, with the gap so small you could never see it, but every day, every second the air was leaking uncontrollably until all that remained was flat, lifeless rubber.
Gordon smiled because he would not let anyone see him cry.
None but his pillow saw that side.
And the bravest ones you've ever known,
Are crippled by their fears,
They didn't see that Scott, for all he used to be the brave pilot, was only using that as a way to survive. They didn't know his fears that dared to swallow him whole if he thought of them. It was like being afraid of the dark and having only the tiniest of lights to illuminate the demons, one which would never cover the whole glade.
Scott was brave, for fear of his fears.
Not because he was still confident and strong.
It's filled with lonely people,
But they're never seen alone,
They didn't see that John, for all he could talk and best the world with speech and knowledge, hid himself away because he couldn't bear to be there. They didn't know he was lonely, though he really was not. It was like being in a crowded room, but unable to speak or surrounded but those who were unable to hear you, even if you screamed your lungs hoarse.
John kept himself away, so that no one could see the truth.
None could see what he would not tell himself.
Where those who lack real shelter,
Make you feel the most at home,
They didn't see that Alan, for all he was a kid and a happy one at that, didn't really know where he fit in the world. They didn't see that his home wasn't really what he showed to you. It was like living in the world's biggest mansion, but with no one to share it, the place grew dull, until the windows shattered, the doors blew off and the roof caved in.
Alan kept himself happy, wanted to keep himself busy so he could forget what home was missing.
Not one saw how he really felt homeless.
Maybe their grass looks greener,
Because they've painted on its hue,
The world didn't see what they all really looked like. It was only privy to their better halves; the Tracy brothers on their best days. They saw a very careful depiction of what they wished, things that they could control.
They saw a world that was ideal and rich, and maybe it was okay to keep letting the world see an illusion, because it spared them all the questions and the additional strain. It wasn't perfect, and one day it wouldn't hold up, but in the interim, it would be the way to go.
The world could think what it wanted about their idyllic life, without seeing that all of it was a painted canvas held up to hide the truth beneath.
Just remember from the other side,
Your grass looks greener too.
No, the world didn't know how lucky it was sometimes.
It looked at them and saw wealth and good health and assumed they had enough.
Sometimes the brother's looked out from Tracy Island, and assumed the world had enough too.
