That's what they've always called me.

"Silly mouse, she's just not right in the head."

The funny thing is, it's they who are addled. I can see clearly and they can't.

~~~

When people say your imagination wanders, I think that's not quite right for me.

My imagination tears away from me, desperate to be anywhere but here.

In in the car, mom's probably telling me something important.

As we drive over a bridge, the glittering water stretching for infinity before us, my mind takes a dive right out the window.

It races along the water, cresting white-topped choppy waves and splashing icy cold water up in shining arcs.

It rears out of the water, flinging droplets of silver before taking to the sky.

The great peaks are skirted by dark pines, the sunlight gently poking through the foliage and dusting the ground.

It twists around a trunk, studying a small bird's nest.

It leaps up, up to the clouds which bend over and kiss the tops of the mountains.

In and around it goes, the cool and soft fluff grazing its fingertips.

The sun drives some of the fog away. It sees the great glowing thing and reaches out to touch it.

And in a whirl of determination, it launches itself to the sky, stretching for the sun.

Until blue becomes black and clouds become stars, the burning monstrosity lighting up the darkness.

Around and around they go, the planets forever in a celestial dance of day and night. They spin about, every one in its own rhythm, forever in harmony with the others.

It gives a mighty crow and flaps back, down to earth, down to a stretch of river, to a small red car driving over a small concrete bridge where a mouse of a girl is listening to her mother.

Softly it slips through the window, back to where it belongs, just in time to hear:

"-you even listening?"