It had been like any other typical weekend Up North. It was the end of June, so the weather was warm and beautiful. X and J.J. had spent the day on Saturday near the creek. The weather was warm enough to walk around in the icy waters. X had got an idea in his head that it’d be great to have a bonfire pit right next to the creek. He’d thought it’d be nice at night to sit around the fire while listening to the water bubble over the rocks. X had dug a medium sized hole with J.J. and placed bricks around it for support. Their friend M had stopped by after their work and the three of them had enjoyed the rest of the afternoon drinking beers and chatting next to the creek. X remembered how exhausted he was from such a minor job. He’d been worried now. He’d known something was not right inside him.
On Sunday morning, X had slept much later than usual. He’d been so fatigued lately. It was a fatigue that dragged his body through the day. J.J. and X had spent a leisurely morning, taking pleasure in the beautiful early summer weather. X did a few odds and ends around the cabin to get it cleaned up before leaving. Any other weekend Up North as a ritual, they would have left around 12:00 to get back home in the afternoon. Because of the exceptional weather that day, J.J. and X decided to stay and take advantage of the beautiful day.
It’d been so warm, they’d taken the lawn chairs and placed them into the creek to sunbathe and swim at the same time. J.J. loved the sun and planted herself in the perfect spot to take the sun and feel the water running around her. X had been so tired that he’d felt like he’d fall over. Instead of lounging by the creek, X decided to take a nap in the cabin. No sooner did his head touch the pillow than he’d fallen asleep. It was a profound and unnatural sleep. He’d awaken with a feeling of peace and calm. X had remembered never feeling this refreshed in many, many months. Reality seemed surreal as he slowly crawled out of bed. He’d put on his Hawaiian swim trunks and headed down to the creek. J.J. was sprawled out in her lounge chair, already looking brown from an hour of intense sun. J.J. and X had taken the sun together for awhile until the sun’s heat had told X to get into the water.
The spring fed water was extremely cold. It had been such a dramatic difference against the sun’s rays. J.J. had dared X to plunge himself into the shallow cold water. They’d laughed as X pretended to fall into the water, then stop himself. Then X said he’d do a quick push-up in the water, just to get wet and cool off. As X bent down quickly to put his hands into the water to do the push-up, his left leg slipped on the hard smooth clay bottom of the creek.
It that instant, a shrieking howl of a scream, had exploded from the innermost essence of X throughout the peaceful forest and then,
“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! I BROKE MY LEG! OH MY GOD! I BROKE MY LEG! HELP ME! HELP ME! HELP!”
X turned in the air and was now sitting in the shallow water looking downstream. J.J. had run to the bank of the creek and had looked down at X with a white blank expression of horror as X had continued to hurl in pain.
The pain was grotesquely immense…
X had looked down at his leg below the icy water and noticed it ballooning outwards. It felt misshapen. He knew he couldn’t move one inch. He sat frozen as the calm trickling waters gracefully passed around him, his arms bracing himself behind him, while his consciousness pounded in insane pain.
“What do I do? What do I do?” J.J. yelled.
“G…G…Go…to the neighbors…QUICK!” X screamed.
X, knowing that the nearest hospital was miles away, had thought about the neighbors pickup truck. In that moment he’d quickly thought that the neighbor could take him to the hospital. J.J. took off running barefoot through the woods to the neighbors.
Silence.
Wind through the leaves.
PAIN.
Water running.
Sky.
Cloud.
PAIN.
HELP ME!
God, help me…Help me…what is happening?
Help me…what is happening?
DON’T THINK ABOUT IT. DON”T THINK ABOUT IT!
LA LA LA LA !
GOD.
BLUE SKY.
WATER.
NO! NO! NO!
TREES.
PAIN.
Mom, what is happening to me?
Help me please. COLD. SO COLD.
GOD HELP ME!
J.J. had came running back through the trees yelling at the top of her lungs that the neighbor wasn’t home. X had screamed for her to grab the telephone and to call his aunt that lived five minutes away. J.J. called immediately, X’s aunt was on her way over.
X had been sitting in the exact same position as where he fell. He dared not move. He’d tried to put himself somewhere else. In the clouds. In the sky. He looked downstream as the water rolled over the rocks and small shrubs. At certain moments, he’d felt outside of himself. He’d tried to remain calm and use the intensity of his pain to escape himself. It would last a moment, and then the pain would rip into his inner core again.
X’s aunt K arrived along with M. They’d stood on the bank of the creek and had asked X what the hell had happened. Between using every four-letter word in the book, X had tried to explain what had happened. Aunt K had assured X that the ambulance was on its way. It was coming from the nearest town about 20 minutes away. X had tried to remain patient and calm, feeling the numbing effect of the icy creek waters on his body.
The ambulance had arrived with four or five civil volunteers. They’d assessed the situation and quickly moved to get X out of the water. Each one of the volunteers helped to lift X onto the bank of the creek where a body-board lay waiting. X had been very comfortable while they lifted him out. They’d been gentle and confident about it. They’d strapped him to the board and began carrying him up the small hill to the ambulance. X had been in an euphoric daze. He watched the green tree branches blowing in the warm breeze above him as his mind tried to put the pieces together of what was happening to him, while the echoing screech still lingered in the forest.
X's life had now completely changed like he had asked for, in one screaming instant of change.
SONG and VIDEO: My Screaming Soul
A lazy day, the summers haze
And the scream
The swaying trees, a gentle breeze
And the scream
The flowing stream, melodies
Then the scream
The day that my, soul arrived
With a scream
Mother won’t you tell me please
Tell me, what is happening to me
For among the pine and oak
The forest heard the sound of
My Screaming Soul
Instant change, blinding pain, frigid stream
The calming sky, a blue goodbye
Clouds of white, and the scream
The sudden light, my soul arrived
With the scream
The day that my, soul arrived
With a scream
Mother please, what is happening to me?
Do not fear, for I am here, with you
The sombre trees, shone sympathy, on me
Oh my God, what is happening to me?
The swaying trees
My soul and me
The gentle breeze
My soul and me
The flowing stream
My soul and me
What is happening to me?
What is happening to me?
And the scream
The swaying trees, a gentle breeze
And the scream
The flowing stream, melodies
Then the scream
The day that my, soul arrived
With a scream
Mother won’t you tell me please
Tell me, what is happening to me
For among the pine and oak
The forest heard the sound of
My Screaming Soul
Instant change, blinding pain, frigid stream
The calming sky, a blue goodbye
Clouds of white, and the scream
The sudden light, my soul arrived
With the scream
The day that my, soul arrived
With a scream
Mother please, what is happening to me?
Do not fear, for I am here, with you
The sombre trees, shone sympathy, on me
Oh my God, what is happening to me?
The swaying trees
My soul and me
The gentle breeze
My soul and me
The flowing stream
My soul and me
What is happening to me?
What is happening to me?
Chapter 12: Leaving Prospect Avenue
It’d been ritual as usual on Friday afternoon. X had been itching to get out of work around 3:00. Like always, his thoughts were already Up North at the cabin. His body was at his job, but his mind was elsewhere. After work, X and J.J. had got the car packed for the weekend. X had taken a sweeping glance around his cleaned apartment one last time, locked the door and rushed out to the car.
How was X to know that when he’d left his apartment on this day, it’d be the last time that he’d ever see it? By 5:45 p.m., they’d started on the road for Up North.
How was X to know that when he’d left his apartment on this day, it’d be the last time that he’d ever see it? By 5:45 p.m., they’d started on the road for Up North.
Chapter 11: Ignoring the Alarms
X had become so fragile inside. His mind had been on the verge of explosion from all the confusion and stress in his life. Everything seemed to be piling up. He couldn’t escape the sense of a black veil over his thoughts. He’d failed to see the good in anything. One day he’d gone mountain biking with his riding partner from work. They’d been going for quite some time, but X in recent weeks had been having trouble keeping the pace. On this particular day, X had been exhausted.
Lately, he’d been feeling fits of fatigue. Deep fights with exhaustion that had struck him at work and when he’d gone home at night. He’d fought to keep up with his partner, but he couldn’t. Overwhelmed by fatigue, X had taken a bad fall down a steep incline, tumbling through some small trees to the bottom of the hill. Luckily, X had got up from the fall with mere bumps, cuts and bruises. They’d changed X’s flat tire and rode on. The accident was quickly forgotten until a few weeks later.
X’s exhaustion had grown worse. The 3:00 afternoon blues at work had been a battle to keep his eyes open. He’d felt a pain in his lower back that made it difficult to sit at his desk. At night had been his greatest discomfort. He’d awake in the middle of the night, his pillow soaked with cold sweat, with a profound aching in his left quadriceps. In the beginning, he’d thought it was a muscle cramp so he’d got up and took an aspirin. The night pains in his leg continued each night. X ignored them. It became so painful at times that X pounded with his fist on his leg, trying to alleviate what he thought was a muscular pain. It had been a pain much more profound than that however. X can’t remember how long the pains persisted.
Eventually, the pain continued on through the daytime. It became unbearable to live with. At this point, X had noticed that the muscle in his quadriceps was hard, and tight with a large bump. This pain coupled with the negative emotions in his mind felt like a terror within. X had finally gone to see a doctor. They’d taken some x-rays and had decided that the pain was probably due to the mountain biking accident weeks before.
It seemed completely probable to X and he thought nothing of it, continuing to take the prescribed pain medication until it passed. It didn’t pass. The pain had grown worse at night and his sheets would be wet with sweat each morning. The bump on his leg had grown tremendously. X had called the doctor on a Thursday afternoon to schedule another appointment. The doctor recommended that X have a MRI on the following Monday. X had been a little worried at this point, but he had absolutely no idea what would be in store for him for the weekend.
Lately, he’d been feeling fits of fatigue. Deep fights with exhaustion that had struck him at work and when he’d gone home at night. He’d fought to keep up with his partner, but he couldn’t. Overwhelmed by fatigue, X had taken a bad fall down a steep incline, tumbling through some small trees to the bottom of the hill. Luckily, X had got up from the fall with mere bumps, cuts and bruises. They’d changed X’s flat tire and rode on. The accident was quickly forgotten until a few weeks later.
X’s exhaustion had grown worse. The 3:00 afternoon blues at work had been a battle to keep his eyes open. He’d felt a pain in his lower back that made it difficult to sit at his desk. At night had been his greatest discomfort. He’d awake in the middle of the night, his pillow soaked with cold sweat, with a profound aching in his left quadriceps. In the beginning, he’d thought it was a muscle cramp so he’d got up and took an aspirin. The night pains in his leg continued each night. X ignored them. It became so painful at times that X pounded with his fist on his leg, trying to alleviate what he thought was a muscular pain. It had been a pain much more profound than that however. X can’t remember how long the pains persisted.
Eventually, the pain continued on through the daytime. It became unbearable to live with. At this point, X had noticed that the muscle in his quadriceps was hard, and tight with a large bump. This pain coupled with the negative emotions in his mind felt like a terror within. X had finally gone to see a doctor. They’d taken some x-rays and had decided that the pain was probably due to the mountain biking accident weeks before.
It seemed completely probable to X and he thought nothing of it, continuing to take the prescribed pain medication until it passed. It didn’t pass. The pain had grown worse at night and his sheets would be wet with sweat each morning. The bump on his leg had grown tremendously. X had called the doctor on a Thursday afternoon to schedule another appointment. The doctor recommended that X have a MRI on the following Monday. X had been a little worried at this point, but he had absolutely no idea what would be in store for him for the weekend.
Chapter 10: Pounding the Nail of Change
X’s impatience and anger had been surfacing more and more with each new day. Inside he’d begun to feel an inescapable sense of anxiety and stress. It showed itself in the form of aggression. He’d begun to be aggressive with his co-workers and J.J. The negative hostility he’d created with some of his co-workers made his job unbearable. He’d dreaded going to the office.
On his commute to work, his only thoughts had been how he’d spend that evening, drinking to forget about the upcoming day ahead of him. Things had been on the decline between J.J. and X. He’d wanted her. Then, he didn’t. He’d liked her. Then he didn’t. Like a switch on the wall, his affection for her switched on and off. It’d seemed that X was falling into a profound confusion in his mind. He hadn’t known why. He’d just continued his daily routine. But he’d continued to fall more and more into the storm of his negative thoughts.
X remembered passing in front of the long mirror in the hallway of his apartment building each morning. He’d glanced and said to himself each morning, “You need a change.”
He’d become obsessed with this phrase. He’d said it over and over in his thoughts thousands of times. The phrase became a nail that he’d pounded into his brain with all his strength.
You need a change.
You need a change.
Over and over the echoes of these four words resonated in his head.
On his commute to work, his only thoughts had been how he’d spend that evening, drinking to forget about the upcoming day ahead of him. Things had been on the decline between J.J. and X. He’d wanted her. Then, he didn’t. He’d liked her. Then he didn’t. Like a switch on the wall, his affection for her switched on and off. It’d seemed that X was falling into a profound confusion in his mind. He hadn’t known why. He’d just continued his daily routine. But he’d continued to fall more and more into the storm of his negative thoughts.
X remembered passing in front of the long mirror in the hallway of his apartment building each morning. He’d glanced and said to himself each morning, “You need a change.”
He’d become obsessed with this phrase. He’d said it over and over in his thoughts thousands of times. The phrase became a nail that he’d pounded into his brain with all his strength.
You need a change.
You need a change.
Over and over the echoes of these four words resonated in his head.
Chapter 9: A Friend of a Friend
X’s job had been going very well. He’d enjoyed all the perks of his new job including travel. Traveling around the United States had always been something X had wanted to do. He was now doing it, on the company’s credit card. It had been a period of rest for him, without worries. His new job had given him a sense of purpose and it kept his mind off the loss of his mother. Or so he’d thought it did. In the office, he’d met some new friends. He’d gone out with one friend in particular who had a friend named J.J. X had been attracted to J.J. from the start. They had the same interests and had ‘clicked’ right away. They’d hung out with each other for awhile as friends, then J.J. had decided she’d let her and X be more than just friends. Shortly afterwards, they’d become companions.
It’d seemed that everything had come together for X. In one year’s time, his life had drastically changed. He’d got a new job, new apartment, a new girlfriend and new experiences. It’d seemed that he was on top of the world.
Then why, he’d asked himself, was he so miserable inside?
Why does he continue to abuse himself with alcohol?
Why does he get so angry at the most miniscule thing wrong?
Why does he feel like a ticking bomb, waiting to explode?
Why is he so impatient?
Why is he so angry?
It’d seemed that everything had come together for X. In one year’s time, his life had drastically changed. He’d got a new job, new apartment, a new girlfriend and new experiences. It’d seemed that he was on top of the world.
Then why, he’d asked himself, was he so miserable inside?
Why does he continue to abuse himself with alcohol?
Why does he get so angry at the most miniscule thing wrong?
Why does he feel like a ticking bomb, waiting to explode?
Why is he so impatient?
Why is he so angry?
Chapter 9: Holding the Future
His next stage in life had helped him in many ways.
His new position had brought him a sense of confidence and pride. He now lived with a certainty of what his role was in life. He had a decent job and plenty of cash in his pockets. With his first paycheck from work, he’d purchased his first guitar.
He’d gone into a local guitar shop after work specifically to buy a guitar. There hadn’t been a doubt in his head that he wouldn’t walk out of the store with a guitar. After looking for just a short while in the shop, he’d met his future. He picked it up and looked at it. It’d seemed familiar to him. The orange and red colors of the Fender Sunburst appealed to him right away. The guitar had felt comfortable in his hands, yet very awkward. At this point, he still hadn’t known how to actually play the guitar. He’d known somehow that he would someday play. He put the guitar back on its’ stand and continued to pass along the wall of guitars. After a short time, he’d found himself holding the Fender Sunburst once again. Without an ounce of hesitation, he’d purchased the guitar. He’d gone to his dad’s to show him his new purchase.
X knelt on the floor and had opened the guitar case revealing it as his dad had watched on with eager eyes.
“Nice guitar”, he said to X.
“Now you’ve got to learn how to play it!”
“I’ll learn,” said X. “I’ll learn.”
His new position had brought him a sense of confidence and pride. He now lived with a certainty of what his role was in life. He had a decent job and plenty of cash in his pockets. With his first paycheck from work, he’d purchased his first guitar.
He’d gone into a local guitar shop after work specifically to buy a guitar. There hadn’t been a doubt in his head that he wouldn’t walk out of the store with a guitar. After looking for just a short while in the shop, he’d met his future. He picked it up and looked at it. It’d seemed familiar to him. The orange and red colors of the Fender Sunburst appealed to him right away. The guitar had felt comfortable in his hands, yet very awkward. At this point, he still hadn’t known how to actually play the guitar. He’d known somehow that he would someday play. He put the guitar back on its’ stand and continued to pass along the wall of guitars. After a short time, he’d found himself holding the Fender Sunburst once again. Without an ounce of hesitation, he’d purchased the guitar. He’d gone to his dad’s to show him his new purchase.
X knelt on the floor and had opened the guitar case revealing it as his dad had watched on with eager eyes.
“Nice guitar”, he said to X.
“Now you’ve got to learn how to play it!”
“I’ll learn,” said X. “I’ll learn.”
Chapter 8: Falling Memories
Before his first day on the job, he’d been told he’d have to cut off his long hair. Before his mom’s death, he’d begun growing it. It had been another way for him to cut off the intimacy with his mom during her illness.
When he got his new job, it’d been over three years since he’d got a cut. He remembered going to the hair stylist. He’d felt awkward and out of place. He’d never been to a place like this before.
“What kind of cut would you like?” she asked.
“Just cut it all off”, he said.
He sat in the cold white chair and the young blonde woman began snipping at his long locks as music blasted through the speakers. As his hair had fallen to the floor, he did everything he could to keep from thinking about memories of haircuts with his mom.
He had watched on in the mirror, as he was being transformed into his next stage, desperately holding back his tears.
When he got his new job, it’d been over three years since he’d got a cut. He remembered going to the hair stylist. He’d felt awkward and out of place. He’d never been to a place like this before.
“What kind of cut would you like?” she asked.
“Just cut it all off”, he said.
He sat in the cold white chair and the young blonde woman began snipping at his long locks as music blasted through the speakers. As his hair had fallen to the floor, he did everything he could to keep from thinking about memories of haircuts with his mom.
He had watched on in the mirror, as he was being transformed into his next stage, desperately holding back his tears.
Chapter 7: The Gathering of Sorrow
R’s parents had both died actually. A few years before the death of R’s mom, her dad had found out that he had a brain tumor. Their family had found this out quite suddenly at a family dinner when their father lost consciousness at the dinner table. Tests showed that he had a large tumor growing in his brain. Attempts were made to extract the tumor. Chemotherapy was given. In the end, R’s father had fought a huge battle, but there was nothing else to do for him. R’s father had left behind five children and a wife. Of course the R family was torn with grief after the loss of their father. F, the mother, had taken the loss of her husband so profoundly that eventually it had taken her own life. After a couple years of her husbands’ death, F committed suicide by letting her car run in the closed garage. Her loss years early had built into a profound confusion in her mind. She chose to escape that confusion.
R’s mother died a few weeks before X’s. They both a common link between each other besides their friendship. The link had been sorrow. R, being the oldest of the family still living near the children, was made responsible for their upbringing. She quit her life that she’d began miles away to help raise her teenage siblings in this extremely difficult time. In a way, she’d had to put her life on hold. She’d seemed somewhat suspended between who she was and what she’d become after the loss of her mom. At any rate, she had not complained, but she fulfilled her duty to her family.
As X’s father lived close to R’s new home, shortly after they began to renew their friendship. X and R began spending more and more time together. They hadn’t really talked about their losses; rather they tried to forget about them together. X began spending more time at R’s home to escape the life without his mother at his dad’s home. X hadn’t known how to be alone with his own father because he’d never been put in that position before. His mom had always been present. X’ s interaction with his parents had always been mother and father, not just the father. Moreover, X couldn’t stand the emptiness that he felt at his dad’s house. Without his mom there, the house was a cold empty shell. And so, the gathering of sorrow began at R’s home.
In R’s basement had been a finished room with music, books and comfortable chairs. R had redone the basement because she’d known her mom had always wanted to do it. This is where the gathering had taken place usually. R and her sister B, her brother A and her friend X would sit in this room and be together. They hadn’t mentioned death or loss, sorrow or grief, but it had been hidden beneath the circle of conversations. Rather than express these feelings, they’d chosen to find the best way to escape them. Their most used and efficient means of escape had been marijuana. It had been always present in the circle, passed about and eagerly smoked by all to unplug from an inner reality of torment. It had served its’ purpose to disengage from the present moment to find a moment of respite. They’d laughed. They’d laughed and carried on in a nervous and insane stupor, all the while they’d just wanted to cry and breakdown. But they could never do that. Why? Because they were kids. And kids shouldn’t have to go through shit like death and mourning. The confusion of death had been above their comprehension and the only way they’d known how to deal with it was through escape.
Through the suspension of grieving, life had been moving on in a way. X had been in a desperate need to find a job to earn some money. One day he’d seen an ad in the newspaper for a cook, like he’d been earlier in the northern forest. He’d decided to go and apply for the job. The job had been located in a deli of a large supermarket. X had been discouraged to find himself working in a deli. He’d had several years of higher education. He’d entered the supermarket for his interview, with each step wanting to turn around and leave. He’d gone to the deli to speak with the manager for the position. The manager was on break and would be back in 15 minutes. X had decided that this had been a sign and that he could leave without applying for the position. He’d walked out of the store and decided to smoke a cigarette to think of what he’d wanted to do.
Should he apply for the position? Shouldn’t he?
While taking a drag from the cigarette, he asked his mom in his thoughts for guidance. It had been the first time he’d spoken to her after her death. Instantly, in his head he’d heard his mom’s words. “You need a job, so get inside and TAKE THIS JOB!” she’d said.
X had been instantly overwhelmed with a sense of purpose. He’d known exactly what to do now. He quickly put out the cigarette and went inside. Fifteen minutes later after the interview, X walked out of the store with his new position as a cook in the deli.
Little did X know how much this decision would change his entire life.
Shortly afterwards, X began his new position. Cooking was something that he’d enjoyed and he did his job with the expectation that it was only temporary. From time to time, X saw business people coming in to look at the deli. He’d found out that the deli was part of a new franchise program from a local company that manufactured food service and restaurant equipment. Periodically, the business people would drop by to see how their new concept was working out. They even had a person from their company working in the deli.
X had always been professional and outgoing with these people. He’d been somewhat curious about them and what they did. Then, after working in the deli for several months, the business people had offered X a position in their company. Just like that. Out of the blue. They’d offered him a much better salary and the chance to travel around the country. Of course, X immediately took the position and not seven months after applying for the job in the deli (the job he’d been about to walk away from), he found himself in a suit and tie, working for a company.
Little did X know how much this position at this company would change his entire life.
With all of the confusion of the time, X and R had found comfort in each other’s arms. It provided them with a comfort and security that they’d both needed at the time. It had been an exchange of support. The months that X had spent at the gathering with R had given him support to go on with his life. He couldn’t have had done it without her. In the end however, X had needed too much and had asked too much from R. On a cold, dark and snowy night, X had left R’s house for the last time, never to see her again until years later. The confusion had become too much to comprehend. The gathering of sorrow had ended for X. He had moved on to another step in his grieving process. X had found a new job and had used it to continue to forget.
R’s mother died a few weeks before X’s. They both a common link between each other besides their friendship. The link had been sorrow. R, being the oldest of the family still living near the children, was made responsible for their upbringing. She quit her life that she’d began miles away to help raise her teenage siblings in this extremely difficult time. In a way, she’d had to put her life on hold. She’d seemed somewhat suspended between who she was and what she’d become after the loss of her mom. At any rate, she had not complained, but she fulfilled her duty to her family.
As X’s father lived close to R’s new home, shortly after they began to renew their friendship. X and R began spending more and more time together. They hadn’t really talked about their losses; rather they tried to forget about them together. X began spending more time at R’s home to escape the life without his mother at his dad’s home. X hadn’t known how to be alone with his own father because he’d never been put in that position before. His mom had always been present. X’ s interaction with his parents had always been mother and father, not just the father. Moreover, X couldn’t stand the emptiness that he felt at his dad’s house. Without his mom there, the house was a cold empty shell. And so, the gathering of sorrow began at R’s home.
In R’s basement had been a finished room with music, books and comfortable chairs. R had redone the basement because she’d known her mom had always wanted to do it. This is where the gathering had taken place usually. R and her sister B, her brother A and her friend X would sit in this room and be together. They hadn’t mentioned death or loss, sorrow or grief, but it had been hidden beneath the circle of conversations. Rather than express these feelings, they’d chosen to find the best way to escape them. Their most used and efficient means of escape had been marijuana. It had been always present in the circle, passed about and eagerly smoked by all to unplug from an inner reality of torment. It had served its’ purpose to disengage from the present moment to find a moment of respite. They’d laughed. They’d laughed and carried on in a nervous and insane stupor, all the while they’d just wanted to cry and breakdown. But they could never do that. Why? Because they were kids. And kids shouldn’t have to go through shit like death and mourning. The confusion of death had been above their comprehension and the only way they’d known how to deal with it was through escape.
Through the suspension of grieving, life had been moving on in a way. X had been in a desperate need to find a job to earn some money. One day he’d seen an ad in the newspaper for a cook, like he’d been earlier in the northern forest. He’d decided to go and apply for the job. The job had been located in a deli of a large supermarket. X had been discouraged to find himself working in a deli. He’d had several years of higher education. He’d entered the supermarket for his interview, with each step wanting to turn around and leave. He’d gone to the deli to speak with the manager for the position. The manager was on break and would be back in 15 minutes. X had decided that this had been a sign and that he could leave without applying for the position. He’d walked out of the store and decided to smoke a cigarette to think of what he’d wanted to do.
Should he apply for the position? Shouldn’t he?
While taking a drag from the cigarette, he asked his mom in his thoughts for guidance. It had been the first time he’d spoken to her after her death. Instantly, in his head he’d heard his mom’s words. “You need a job, so get inside and TAKE THIS JOB!” she’d said.
X had been instantly overwhelmed with a sense of purpose. He’d known exactly what to do now. He quickly put out the cigarette and went inside. Fifteen minutes later after the interview, X walked out of the store with his new position as a cook in the deli.
Little did X know how much this decision would change his entire life.
Shortly afterwards, X began his new position. Cooking was something that he’d enjoyed and he did his job with the expectation that it was only temporary. From time to time, X saw business people coming in to look at the deli. He’d found out that the deli was part of a new franchise program from a local company that manufactured food service and restaurant equipment. Periodically, the business people would drop by to see how their new concept was working out. They even had a person from their company working in the deli.
X had always been professional and outgoing with these people. He’d been somewhat curious about them and what they did. Then, after working in the deli for several months, the business people had offered X a position in their company. Just like that. Out of the blue. They’d offered him a much better salary and the chance to travel around the country. Of course, X immediately took the position and not seven months after applying for the job in the deli (the job he’d been about to walk away from), he found himself in a suit and tie, working for a company.
Little did X know how much this position at this company would change his entire life.
With all of the confusion of the time, X and R had found comfort in each other’s arms. It provided them with a comfort and security that they’d both needed at the time. It had been an exchange of support. The months that X had spent at the gathering with R had given him support to go on with his life. He couldn’t have had done it without her. In the end however, X had needed too much and had asked too much from R. On a cold, dark and snowy night, X had left R’s house for the last time, never to see her again until years later. The confusion had become too much to comprehend. The gathering of sorrow had ended for X. He had moved on to another step in his grieving process. X had found a new job and had used it to continue to forget.
Chapter 6: Refuge Up North
Nearly fifteen years had passed, and the Middle Inlet still flowed with determination. X had thought about how his life had changed since he’d been a small boy. He remembered when he moved from the university that he’d attended, to live Up North, deep in the woods of Wisconsin, to escape himself. He’d been a college drop out. He knew he had to leave the university because his alcoholism had gotten out of control. He needed to runaway again. Just like he did when he’d found out that his mom had cancer.
Up North seemed like the refuge that he needed to get back on track again. Plus, he’d known that he’d be closer to his ill mom again. He’d known that his mom and dad still did the Friday ritual if she’d been feeling up to it. He needed to be closer to her. Despite his first flight instinct to run away to a university far from his mom after learning about her illness, he’d known now that there was no time left. He’d known she’d disappear soon. After living in the forest for about a year, the telephone had rung early on a Sunday morning in August.
He’d answered the phone and heard his dad on the other end. “You better come down to Milwaukee,” he said. X jumped into the car minutes after the speaking with his dad. During the three and a half-hour drive to Milwaukee, tears had rolled down his cheeks. He knew that this was it. He just hoped that he could see her before she left. He’d arrived at the hospital and saw his whole family there. He’d gone into her room and saw her in bed with her eyes closed. She woke a little and looked at him. He didn’t know what to say. He took her cold hand and told her everything would be all right. He’d known it was not all right and she’d known it was not all right. He told her he loved her very much. She’d wanted to see the entire family one by one when she would wake up. Each one of them went into her room to speak with her. Each one of them left her room in tears.
It had been night. X’s family and friends of the family were all there outside her room. She’d been unconscious for several days and everyone was saying it was a matter of time. X’s old friend R had arrived to say goodbye to his mom. They’d gone outside to smoke a cigarette. They’d been talking about how shitty life was. R’s mother had died one week earlier. Suddenly, X’s uncle came running out of the hospital, telling him to come quickly. X ran up the stairs to the fourth floor and into his mom’s room where he’d found everyone around her bed. They all looked down at her crying. Her heartbeat had slowed down and her breathing had nearly stopped. It lasted a little while. X’s dad held his wife’s head in his hands. X and his brother held their mom’s hand. His dad kept telling her, “just let go…just let go.” Finally, after her five-year battle with breast cancer, she had let go of life.
Afterwards, each person had had a little time to be with her alone. X stood next to the bed, looking down at her. He touched her hand. He gave her a kiss on the forehead. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to leave her, but he knew he had to go. He looked at her one last time. He knew it would be the last time he saw her in reality. He turned and walked out of the room, forcing himself not to look back at her.
There was a funeral a few days later. Family and friends had gathered at the house. All X could remember was a low mumble of voices resonating off the walls of the kitchen. They left for the church. X stood by his dad and brother in the front row. On the other side of the pew were his mom’s parents, ages 80 and 90 years old. X couldn’t look at his grandpa because of the pain he saw in the old man’s eyes. He had outlived his only daughter, who he adored with all his heart. X grasped the pew in front of him to keep his balance. He didn’t hear anything. He fought to keep from breaking down in a fit of tears. His jaw was clenched. After the priest had mumbled his last word, X had been the first to walk out of the church with his brother and father. He looked straight ahead, fighting to keep his emotions inside him. He never stopped fighting the pain, hurt and loss that he felt that day. He pushed it deeper and deeper into his unconscious. They all did.
His mom had just died. There had been a lot of emotion everywhere. A couple days after the funeral, X was completely lost. He had no idea where he should go or what he should do. He’d been living Up North at his parents’ cabin, working as a cook in a small restaurant. He didn’t know if he should go back to that. Should he go back to the solitude of the forest?
His dad came home from work and X had his car packed to leave to go back to his refuge in the North. He stood next to his car, close to tears when his dad asked him if he was going somewhere. X told his dad he didn’t know where he was going or what he was doing. X just said he was going Up North. X saw the emotion in his dad’s eyes. His dad knew that X was lost, because he was lost himself. X had to leave right away. There stood two men overwhelmed with emotion and unable to show it to each other. He had to run. He just left it like that, tears flowing as he drove away.
That weekend, X spent the weekend drinking in solitude. By Sunday, he’d decided it was time to go back to his dad’s house. X began a new life and a new relationship with his dad. It was a relationship without a mother or a wife.
A few weeks after X’s mom died, he called his old friend R to see how she was doing. They got together and began to renew their friendship that they had before going off to college. They both had something in common. They’d both just lost their mother’s.
Up North seemed like the refuge that he needed to get back on track again. Plus, he’d known that he’d be closer to his ill mom again. He’d known that his mom and dad still did the Friday ritual if she’d been feeling up to it. He needed to be closer to her. Despite his first flight instinct to run away to a university far from his mom after learning about her illness, he’d known now that there was no time left. He’d known she’d disappear soon. After living in the forest for about a year, the telephone had rung early on a Sunday morning in August.
He’d answered the phone and heard his dad on the other end. “You better come down to Milwaukee,” he said. X jumped into the car minutes after the speaking with his dad. During the three and a half-hour drive to Milwaukee, tears had rolled down his cheeks. He knew that this was it. He just hoped that he could see her before she left. He’d arrived at the hospital and saw his whole family there. He’d gone into her room and saw her in bed with her eyes closed. She woke a little and looked at him. He didn’t know what to say. He took her cold hand and told her everything would be all right. He’d known it was not all right and she’d known it was not all right. He told her he loved her very much. She’d wanted to see the entire family one by one when she would wake up. Each one of them went into her room to speak with her. Each one of them left her room in tears.
It had been night. X’s family and friends of the family were all there outside her room. She’d been unconscious for several days and everyone was saying it was a matter of time. X’s old friend R had arrived to say goodbye to his mom. They’d gone outside to smoke a cigarette. They’d been talking about how shitty life was. R’s mother had died one week earlier. Suddenly, X’s uncle came running out of the hospital, telling him to come quickly. X ran up the stairs to the fourth floor and into his mom’s room where he’d found everyone around her bed. They all looked down at her crying. Her heartbeat had slowed down and her breathing had nearly stopped. It lasted a little while. X’s dad held his wife’s head in his hands. X and his brother held their mom’s hand. His dad kept telling her, “just let go…just let go.” Finally, after her five-year battle with breast cancer, she had let go of life.
Afterwards, each person had had a little time to be with her alone. X stood next to the bed, looking down at her. He touched her hand. He gave her a kiss on the forehead. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to leave her, but he knew he had to go. He looked at her one last time. He knew it would be the last time he saw her in reality. He turned and walked out of the room, forcing himself not to look back at her.
There was a funeral a few days later. Family and friends had gathered at the house. All X could remember was a low mumble of voices resonating off the walls of the kitchen. They left for the church. X stood by his dad and brother in the front row. On the other side of the pew were his mom’s parents, ages 80 and 90 years old. X couldn’t look at his grandpa because of the pain he saw in the old man’s eyes. He had outlived his only daughter, who he adored with all his heart. X grasped the pew in front of him to keep his balance. He didn’t hear anything. He fought to keep from breaking down in a fit of tears. His jaw was clenched. After the priest had mumbled his last word, X had been the first to walk out of the church with his brother and father. He looked straight ahead, fighting to keep his emotions inside him. He never stopped fighting the pain, hurt and loss that he felt that day. He pushed it deeper and deeper into his unconscious. They all did.
His mom had just died. There had been a lot of emotion everywhere. A couple days after the funeral, X was completely lost. He had no idea where he should go or what he should do. He’d been living Up North at his parents’ cabin, working as a cook in a small restaurant. He didn’t know if he should go back to that. Should he go back to the solitude of the forest?
His dad came home from work and X had his car packed to leave to go back to his refuge in the North. He stood next to his car, close to tears when his dad asked him if he was going somewhere. X told his dad he didn’t know where he was going or what he was doing. X just said he was going Up North. X saw the emotion in his dad’s eyes. His dad knew that X was lost, because he was lost himself. X had to leave right away. There stood two men overwhelmed with emotion and unable to show it to each other. He had to run. He just left it like that, tears flowing as he drove away.
That weekend, X spent the weekend drinking in solitude. By Sunday, he’d decided it was time to go back to his dad’s house. X began a new life and a new relationship with his dad. It was a relationship without a mother or a wife.
A few weeks after X’s mom died, he called his old friend R to see how she was doing. They got together and began to renew their friendship that they had before going off to college. They both had something in common. They’d both just lost their mother’s.
Chapter 5: Middle Inlet Creek
It was a very cold spring that gave life to the creek. The water ran swift and frigid throughout the year. Even in winter, its’ waters flowed underneath a hidden surface of thin ice. There were parts of the creek that flowed no larger than a finger’s width and other parts that were twenty feet across. Its’ depth ranged from one inch to over six feet, in certain holes. The overlaying brush provided a canopy of shade for those people who walked and fished the amazing trout stream. The creek at its’ destination, emptied into Lake Noquebay, roughly ten miles away. This lake was filled with trout, blue gills, bass and muskie. Sometimes large lake trout found themselves upstream in the Middle Inlet creek, a fisherman’s delight. Like the Willow Creek back at home, the Middle Inlet was also the two boy’s playground.
Finding the origin of the Middle Inlet had been a great adventure for the two boys. They’d start walking upstream in the creek early in the morning and continue until late afternoon, going deeper and deeper into the undisturbed forest. X remembered peace there. He remembered adventure and excitement.
As his fingers typed at the keys, X wondered if he’d felt this sense of adventure since then.
The crystal clear spring water flowed over rock and tree, twisting and bending through small niches of woods. In his mind, X saw the sunlight peaking through the ancient pines whose sap was glistening in the brilliant rays. Huge boulders overlooked the stream as it meandered with purpose to its’ destination, carrying life and beauty with each ripple.
The boys’ adventures took them to the limits and origin of the creek. They’d traveled into the depths of the deep forest. The creek dwindled and diminished slowly as they’d pressed on further. Sometimes, it was reduced to a mere line of trickling water. Then, without warning, it had vanished into the Earth where life was pure and refined, perfect and harmonious.
It had been their place to play. It had been the place to cool off in the summer months. It had been a place of pleasant solitude, where he’d heard healing melodies of flowing water. It had been a place to hear God if you’d chosen to listen. It had been the place where X’s life would never be the same, in one instant of change.
Finding the origin of the Middle Inlet had been a great adventure for the two boys. They’d start walking upstream in the creek early in the morning and continue until late afternoon, going deeper and deeper into the undisturbed forest. X remembered peace there. He remembered adventure and excitement.
As his fingers typed at the keys, X wondered if he’d felt this sense of adventure since then.
The crystal clear spring water flowed over rock and tree, twisting and bending through small niches of woods. In his mind, X saw the sunlight peaking through the ancient pines whose sap was glistening in the brilliant rays. Huge boulders overlooked the stream as it meandered with purpose to its’ destination, carrying life and beauty with each ripple.
The boys’ adventures took them to the limits and origin of the creek. They’d traveled into the depths of the deep forest. The creek dwindled and diminished slowly as they’d pressed on further. Sometimes, it was reduced to a mere line of trickling water. Then, without warning, it had vanished into the Earth where life was pure and refined, perfect and harmonious.
It had been their place to play. It had been the place to cool off in the summer months. It had been a place of pleasant solitude, where he’d heard healing melodies of flowing water. It had been a place to hear God if you’d chosen to listen. It had been the place where X’s life would never be the same, in one instant of change.
Chapter 4: Breaking Ground
X continued putting the words onto the page.
Some of his earliest childhood memories had been of Up North. His parents had purchased a parcel of land near his grandpa’s cabin on the Middle Inlet Creek. He remembered going to the plot of land on sunny morning with his dad, brother and mom. They parked on the road in front of the land and hopped out of the truck. On both sides of them was thick dense forest. The woods were mixed with large oaks, pines and poplar trees. Small brush of growing saplings grew from the fertile forest’s floor. X’s dad grabbed some cutting tools from the back of the truck and handed them to the family. Then he’d said, “Ok! Start cutting!”
With the small pruning shears in his seven-year old hand, X began cutting the little scrub brush on the land. He’d remembered being side by side with his Mom, cutting the small trees down. It had seemed like an endless task for the boy because there were so many trees. But, one by one, after a long day, an area began to take form. This area had eventually became the site of his Dad’s creation, the cabin. X walked with his Mom onwards; cutting whatever had been in their path. Then, standing on the top of a small hill with the pruning shears in hand, X had seen the Middle Inlet Creek flowing for the first time.
Some of his earliest childhood memories had been of Up North. His parents had purchased a parcel of land near his grandpa’s cabin on the Middle Inlet Creek. He remembered going to the plot of land on sunny morning with his dad, brother and mom. They parked on the road in front of the land and hopped out of the truck. On both sides of them was thick dense forest. The woods were mixed with large oaks, pines and poplar trees. Small brush of growing saplings grew from the fertile forest’s floor. X’s dad grabbed some cutting tools from the back of the truck and handed them to the family. Then he’d said, “Ok! Start cutting!”
With the small pruning shears in his seven-year old hand, X began cutting the little scrub brush on the land. He’d remembered being side by side with his Mom, cutting the small trees down. It had seemed like an endless task for the boy because there were so many trees. But, one by one, after a long day, an area began to take form. This area had eventually became the site of his Dad’s creation, the cabin. X walked with his Mom onwards; cutting whatever had been in their path. Then, standing on the top of a small hill with the pruning shears in hand, X had seen the Middle Inlet Creek flowing for the first time.
Chapter 3: Friday Afternoon Ritual
For as long as he could remember, it had been the same ritual. On Thursday nights, Dad would pack up the old Ford F-150 with all the things needed for the weekend. His Dad, his brother Shawn and himself all loved the Ford. It was a great blue color on the body, with white wall rims on the wheels. It had a standard transmission shifter on the column and on some rare occasions, his dad even let him shift the gears. His Dad had worked on the truck from time to time in the driveway, patching rusted holes in the body where the Wisconsin salting had eaten its dinner.
In the early days of their ritual, his dad had packed the truck with camping gear. They didn't have a roof over their heads where they were headed in the woods. The truck would be efficiently packed and ready to roll on Friday at 5:00 p.m. sharp, on Thursday night. On Friday, his Mom would pack a large red cooler filled with food for the weekend. The boy would come home from school and his Mom would be busy doing something around the house. Before leaving for their weekend Up North, in northern Wisconsin, she’d have the house in perfect order. She’d said the same thing each time before leaving.
“It’s nice to come back to a clean house”.
His Dad would come home from work, ready to roll immediately. Knowing that her husband was always eager to “get on the road” when he got home, she’d always have everything packed for the weekend next to the front door or in the garage. They’d pile into the old Ford, four across the bench seat with lap seat belts and a sun cracked blue plastic dashboard staring at them. This is how their weekends began. A family travelling together for a three and a half hour journey to northern Wisconsin.
Their first stop after the long hours in the cramped truck was in his Mom’s hometown, Beaver. They’d pull up in front of the house and opened the truck doors, smelling the sweet northern pine air. His grandma and grandpa, Frank and Stella, would be sitting in their Lazyboy reclining chairs waiting for them. With a couple good rocks on their chairs, they’d be on their feet to greet them with smiles, hugs and kisses. Fresh coffee would be put on while Stella’s lemon meringue pie would be served. The adults would talk about the projects for the weekend while the two young boys tried to keep their eyes open. After the pie had been eaten, they’d say their goodbyes and pile into the Ford to finish their journey.
It had been another thirty-minute ride for them until they’d reached their final destination in Middle Inlet. They’d turned onto Moonshine Hill road and had traveled deeper into the dark forest eventually arriving where the small boy called his real home. For years and years they’d made this voyage. It was their family ritual.
They’d arrived Up North.
In the early days of their ritual, his dad had packed the truck with camping gear. They didn't have a roof over their heads where they were headed in the woods. The truck would be efficiently packed and ready to roll on Friday at 5:00 p.m. sharp, on Thursday night. On Friday, his Mom would pack a large red cooler filled with food for the weekend. The boy would come home from school and his Mom would be busy doing something around the house. Before leaving for their weekend Up North, in northern Wisconsin, she’d have the house in perfect order. She’d said the same thing each time before leaving.
“It’s nice to come back to a clean house”.
His Dad would come home from work, ready to roll immediately. Knowing that her husband was always eager to “get on the road” when he got home, she’d always have everything packed for the weekend next to the front door or in the garage. They’d pile into the old Ford, four across the bench seat with lap seat belts and a sun cracked blue plastic dashboard staring at them. This is how their weekends began. A family travelling together for a three and a half hour journey to northern Wisconsin.
Their first stop after the long hours in the cramped truck was in his Mom’s hometown, Beaver. They’d pull up in front of the house and opened the truck doors, smelling the sweet northern pine air. His grandma and grandpa, Frank and Stella, would be sitting in their Lazyboy reclining chairs waiting for them. With a couple good rocks on their chairs, they’d be on their feet to greet them with smiles, hugs and kisses. Fresh coffee would be put on while Stella’s lemon meringue pie would be served. The adults would talk about the projects for the weekend while the two young boys tried to keep their eyes open. After the pie had been eaten, they’d say their goodbyes and pile into the Ford to finish their journey.
It had been another thirty-minute ride for them until they’d reached their final destination in Middle Inlet. They’d turned onto Moonshine Hill road and had traveled deeper into the dark forest eventually arriving where the small boy called his real home. For years and years they’d made this voyage. It was their family ritual.
They’d arrived Up North.
Chapter 2: Haircuts with Mom
Some of his earliest childhood memories were haircuts with his Mom. They'd always gone downstairs into the basement where they would find the haircutting instruments on the table. An old wooden chair sat in front of an even older mirror. A black comb, a pair of scissors and a hair clipper layed in a cracked floral bowl.
When he was a small boy, X asked her to cut his hair like the Fonz on Happy Days. Of course his
Mom would do her best to cut it like Arthur Fonzereli. He'd often worn a spike haircut in his teenage years, but on one strange occasion she had given him a permanent, pink curlers and all. They had ended up cutting most of his hair off after that. He remembered that it was their time together without interruption. The only sounds in the basement were their voices, the humming of an upright freezer, clothes tumbling in the dryer, and the snips of scissors.
X saw himself growing up in front of that old mirror, while his Mom had groomed him. He had very happy memories of those times they had spent together. His favorite part of the haircut was at the end. She took the scissors and trimmed his neck in short little strokes. There had been something about that sensation that had put X in a trance and at perfect peace.
As the words fell onto the page, Y heard snipping scissors and felt goosebumps tingling up his spine.
When he was a small boy, X asked her to cut his hair like the Fonz on Happy Days. Of course his
Mom would do her best to cut it like Arthur Fonzereli. He'd often worn a spike haircut in his teenage years, but on one strange occasion she had given him a permanent, pink curlers and all. They had ended up cutting most of his hair off after that. He remembered that it was their time together without interruption. The only sounds in the basement were their voices, the humming of an upright freezer, clothes tumbling in the dryer, and the snips of scissors.
X saw himself growing up in front of that old mirror, while his Mom had groomed him. He had very happy memories of those times they had spent together. His favorite part of the haircut was at the end. She took the scissors and trimmed his neck in short little strokes. There had been something about that sensation that had put X in a trance and at perfect peace.
As the words fell onto the page, Y heard snipping scissors and felt goosebumps tingling up his spine.
Chapter 1: Dear Mom,
X sat alone in the silence, looking at her picture. He believed in his heart that she could hear and see the words that he had begun to type. With each word he put onto the page, he believed it more and more. He believed that she was aware of everything now. Wherever she was, it was a place of peace. She knew that he spoke to her often in his mind. He asked her questions when he feared something or had doubts in his life. She was always there, in his conciousness to give the right answers or the right direction to pursue. She had become the voice of reason in his mind.
He had begun the letter because he needed her help again. He needed to relive the events that had taken place in the past thirteen years of his life. He needed her strength, knowledge and support to do this. He couldn't do it alone. He knew that it would be difficult at times, perhaps even more difficult than the events themselves, but they had to do it because he couldn't go on with his life the way it had been going. He had never tried to work things out in his head and the sadness had continued to pile up. It was taking him down further and further each day.
On this particular day while looking at her picture, he had decided to begin the process of accepting to move on with his life. He knew that he would never completely forget everything that had happened. In a way, he hoped he wouldn't. In overcoming and accepting these life challenges, he knew it would make him a stronger and more humble person.
Y knew he had to write the Story of X from a deep need to tell. Y began to type.
"I'm sitting here in looking at your picture. I believe in my heart that you can hear and see the words that I am typing."
The first words appeared on the page. The process had begun.
He had begun the letter because he needed her help again. He needed to relive the events that had taken place in the past thirteen years of his life. He needed her strength, knowledge and support to do this. He couldn't do it alone. He knew that it would be difficult at times, perhaps even more difficult than the events themselves, but they had to do it because he couldn't go on with his life the way it had been going. He had never tried to work things out in his head and the sadness had continued to pile up. It was taking him down further and further each day.
On this particular day while looking at her picture, he had decided to begin the process of accepting to move on with his life. He knew that he would never completely forget everything that had happened. In a way, he hoped he wouldn't. In overcoming and accepting these life challenges, he knew it would make him a stronger and more humble person.
Y knew he had to write the Story of X from a deep need to tell. Y began to type.
"I'm sitting here in looking at your picture. I believe in my heart that you can hear and see the words that I am typing."
The first words appeared on the page. The process had begun.
Prologue
The circle of fire spun incessantly in his mind. From then, until now.
He looked on as the flaming orange tire extinguished itself on the white snow. They all stood on the pond, laughing their guts out, as each one took their turn riding through the wall of flames. The small boy, then seven years old, watched in awe as his fearless older brother made another pass at the fire with his bike. Again, the tire caught fire from the gasoline that had been aimlessly poured onto the thin ice. He didn't know where the red gas can had come from. Maybe one of the neighborhood kids stole it from someones garage. Or maybe it was found among the other castaways in the junkyard that surrounded the pond.
He never thought about how or why a place like this existed until later in his life. As a boy, it was just another part of his limited reality. The ponds were in the external zone. It was the outer limit of where his parents would let him go. Although the parents knew the place existed, they thought that their instructions not to go there would be enough to stop their two young boys. For their youngest boy, it was a place of interdiction. The place to break rules.
The first time he had gone there with his brother, they had followed the small creek that ran throughout the middle of their subdivision in order to find its source. At the banks of the creek were large weeping willow trees. The long branches and vines of leaves canopied the small creek with shade. In the trees, they had played for hours and hours, always finding new adventures. The creek traversed a golden field of grass. When the creek reached the road, it passed below a large metal culvert, a large steel tube they could walk through. They threw rocks in the tube to hear the strange echoes it made and had braved through spider's webs filled with suspended insects. In the Winter, the creek would freeze and they walked and skated on the frozen waters. In Spring, they searched for tadpoles and frogs, pushed each other into the water to get "soakers" or wet feet, and even started an annual Mud Day. The melting snow flooded the field on both sides of the creek, leaving it the perfect place for the young boys to ride bikes and get really dirty. They'd ridden through the muddy creek waters and screamed with laughter. It was their playground. It belonged to them.
The Willow Creek cuts directly through the Lynndale Farms subdivision. At the highest hill in the company of homes, you see the creek meandering through the golden field, protected by the Willow tree guardians. It was a beautiful image to see coming home each day. But, just beyond the thicket of forest, in the back corner of the subdivision, was the source of this beauty, the ponds.
It had been some sort of junkyard. Old abandoned train cars were scattered tragically around the murky ponds. Farm equipment, tainted orange from years of rusting, deteriorated wooden crates, scrap metal, and curious metal barrels, unmarked and filled with something, had been strewed in all directions. Some of these barrels were seen peaking out of the dark waters of the pond, like an evil creature lurking in its lair.
The kids from the neighborhood never talked about the barrels. What was in them? How did they get there? They didn't care because it was all just part of the playground. How many times had the small boy put his little hands into the water grasping at frogs? How many times had he accidentally fallen into the deep lair of the silent barrels?
Years passed, the boys grew up and the ponds were forgotten. Then, their names had risen out of the murky depths onto the lips of the boy's mother. Perhaps this is why I got breast cancer? Maybe there was something that contaminated the drinking water? The ponds were close to the house. Their family hadn't known why or how she had gotten cancer and died. It was only after the boy himself had also gotten cancer that he thought that there was a connection between the two illnesses and the ponds.
The boy, now a man, had thought incessantly for nearly a decade about his illness and possible causes of it. Circling, circling in his mind like the flaming tire, burning across the pond.
He looked on as the flaming orange tire extinguished itself on the white snow. They all stood on the pond, laughing their guts out, as each one took their turn riding through the wall of flames. The small boy, then seven years old, watched in awe as his fearless older brother made another pass at the fire with his bike. Again, the tire caught fire from the gasoline that had been aimlessly poured onto the thin ice. He didn't know where the red gas can had come from. Maybe one of the neighborhood kids stole it from someones garage. Or maybe it was found among the other castaways in the junkyard that surrounded the pond.
He never thought about how or why a place like this existed until later in his life. As a boy, it was just another part of his limited reality. The ponds were in the external zone. It was the outer limit of where his parents would let him go. Although the parents knew the place existed, they thought that their instructions not to go there would be enough to stop their two young boys. For their youngest boy, it was a place of interdiction. The place to break rules.
The first time he had gone there with his brother, they had followed the small creek that ran throughout the middle of their subdivision in order to find its source. At the banks of the creek were large weeping willow trees. The long branches and vines of leaves canopied the small creek with shade. In the trees, they had played for hours and hours, always finding new adventures. The creek traversed a golden field of grass. When the creek reached the road, it passed below a large metal culvert, a large steel tube they could walk through. They threw rocks in the tube to hear the strange echoes it made and had braved through spider's webs filled with suspended insects. In the Winter, the creek would freeze and they walked and skated on the frozen waters. In Spring, they searched for tadpoles and frogs, pushed each other into the water to get "soakers" or wet feet, and even started an annual Mud Day. The melting snow flooded the field on both sides of the creek, leaving it the perfect place for the young boys to ride bikes and get really dirty. They'd ridden through the muddy creek waters and screamed with laughter. It was their playground. It belonged to them.
The Willow Creek cuts directly through the Lynndale Farms subdivision. At the highest hill in the company of homes, you see the creek meandering through the golden field, protected by the Willow tree guardians. It was a beautiful image to see coming home each day. But, just beyond the thicket of forest, in the back corner of the subdivision, was the source of this beauty, the ponds.
It had been some sort of junkyard. Old abandoned train cars were scattered tragically around the murky ponds. Farm equipment, tainted orange from years of rusting, deteriorated wooden crates, scrap metal, and curious metal barrels, unmarked and filled with something, had been strewed in all directions. Some of these barrels were seen peaking out of the dark waters of the pond, like an evil creature lurking in its lair.
The kids from the neighborhood never talked about the barrels. What was in them? How did they get there? They didn't care because it was all just part of the playground. How many times had the small boy put his little hands into the water grasping at frogs? How many times had he accidentally fallen into the deep lair of the silent barrels?
Years passed, the boys grew up and the ponds were forgotten. Then, their names had risen out of the murky depths onto the lips of the boy's mother. Perhaps this is why I got breast cancer? Maybe there was something that contaminated the drinking water? The ponds were close to the house. Their family hadn't known why or how she had gotten cancer and died. It was only after the boy himself had also gotten cancer that he thought that there was a connection between the two illnesses and the ponds.
The boy, now a man, had thought incessantly for nearly a decade about his illness and possible causes of it. Circling, circling in his mind like the flaming tire, burning across the pond.
Beginning
I was given a second chance at living. I thought that second chance had to be something special with an intentional purpose. I thought perhaps I got cancer because I needed change. Not just a little change, but a paradigm shift in reason, belief, and faith. I asked for it, and it happened.
The changes we ask for come from a deep understanding of the short time we have on this planet. Essentially, we know that we don't have a lot of time and we want to evolve as quickly as possible. When we are trapped in a certain way of life, we feel that life has stopped. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is make a decision to change which feels like a battle between your passion and your conditioned logic. Be reasonable! Who needs adventure! Be an adult! Save money! Be responsible! We are programmed from an early age that we must live prudently and cautiously. I believe it is false. I believe we need to live our lives the way we want, without hurting ourselves or other people.
This is the beginning. It has taken me ten years to write this page1. In the following pages, you will find my story which has taken me from my mother's death, my experience with cancer, and the choices I made which led me to live in France, to write and create music. These words come from a need to tell. If one person who reads this story benefits from it, my purpose on this planet has been fulfilled.
Please begin my story by clicking on Prologue in the Archives section located to the right.
Enjoy the Day,
Trevor
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