Everyone knew her as a thief and a moocher, a curly-haired blond with blue eyes who always dressed in her Sunday’s best. “This chair’s a bit too stiff,” she moved on to the next chair. “This one is too short,” when in reality, it was her that was too short, 5 feet tall at the age of 17 wasn’t quite average. “This one is too hard.” She complained when really it was her bony butt.
And all I could think of was “Oh gosh, not this again,” as she tried to get comfortable for the interview. She sat down, with fingers intertwined to hold up her chin, staring with her big blue eyes.
For her to claim that she was more than just a poorly described fairy tale character seemed absolutely outrageous right about now. I was anxious for her to prove me wrong.
“Let’s start out with my name, Ursula Bryngelson.” she began and flared her nostrils in frustration. Goldilocks was a nickname given to her by her Swedish father after “The Little Mermaid” references began to grow out of date and irritating. She attended a private school, filled with judgmental peers that stimulated her desire to leave Maryland. “I hate to admit that I was peer-pressured into acting like the rest of the kids in my school to get more friends, but there was one friend who didn’t want me to change, and his name was Baby Bear.”
Baby Bear now Goldilocks’ age, clearly grew out of his name and was called Forest, which she thought was appropriate because of their long nature-walks together, by his dear friend Goldilocks. “Our relationship was a complicated one” she explained, sipping on a cup of black coffee, “His parents hated humans and when they found out that we were so close they threatened to move away into a secluded area in a forest.” Goldilocks went to the Bears’ house one bright morning with a camera in hand, hoping to capture a memory of their cherished friendship and found an empty house instead. She opened the doors, hoping that there was still a trace of life, and there on the table were three bowls of porridge. “I tasted them, trying to see if they were still hot, meaning they were still around, but you know the media, always twisting words, scraping stories out of nothing.” She rolled her eyes, “I hate the media almost as much as I hate people with last name first names. Do not get me started on that.”
I took her suggestion seriously and pushed her to finish the story of herself and the three Bears. “They did find me sleeping in one of their beds, I’ll give them that.” And she went on to explain the circumstances while gnawing on a piece of toast. “When it was just me and Forest, we could do anything. We both had plans to leave Maryland together and make it big, me as a photographer, and him as the new Smokey Bear.
“So, when I found out he already left, my heart was broken and I burst out in tears, thinking I couldn’t follow through with my father’s wishes for me to get out of Maryland and become famous, I was stuck here with my thoughtless mother, and I would never make it to New York.
“I stayed there; hoping that they’d return, and when they did Mama Bear pushed Baby Bear behind her protectively and Papa Bear chased me out of the house.” She said with a slight grin on her face, “But Baby Bear ran after me, explaining to his parents my importance. They kicked him out and from there on, we were together.” she concluded with a smile, “he’s actually waiting for me now, back at the zoo.” She stood up from her chair, threw done a five dollar bill, smiled at me, and left.

She isn’t quite a famous photographer yet, but she’s doing as well as a 17-year old could do with what she had, which wasn’t much after she left Maryland. Currently she works at a club, lives in a small apartment with Forest who works at the zoo. She takes pictures of him at the zoo as a part-time job. Step by step, she’s achieving her dream and leaving behind her past in hopes to be known for more than “that chick who broke into the Bears’ house and ate their porridge” nonsense.