Sorry about the fluff creative piece for filler today. I didn't want to break the habit of daily post. I'm currently doing some in-depth research for a fact-filled piece that's very thorough. So until I get that finished and polished. I hope you can enjoy a story or two.
. It wasn't long 'til I saw past the road. The sun overhead had left a glare in my eyes and With him in the seat next to me I took a deep breath of the summer air. Smelled like the dirty laundry we'd been carting around for a week. Living from laundry mat to laundry mat was getting old. So were we. So I looked over at him and smiled. When he smiled back I at least drew comfort from the fact that despite all this hell and poverty I could still give him something as powerful as a happy moment to enjoy.
. Even if only for a moment. The truck had slammed into a tree and there was smoke pouring out of the engine. I could see it through what was left of the hood crumpled in front of me. I knew this was somehow my fault. But things like this are too tragic to ever be voluntary. So I took another deep breath and relaxed. I never wanted anything like this to be our life. Knowing there was another choice I walked away.
. For too many sleepless nights I'd been watching the road go by. Night and day finding the next spot to go that was even a mile, didn't matter how much farther it was... so long as it was closer to where we were going. We were headed toward a better life. This was the lie I fed myself day in and day out. A trip to the make a bucket list memory was the cure-all bonding we needed and we never made it there.
. My favourite thing to do was notice the different trees that were road-side natives to any one area. When we were lucky enough to take back-roads. Counting how many people had rose bushes in their yard. Big beautiful red ones, no one ever had a yellow one. Yellow roses made me think of the trip back home to him. But now the world seemed smaller and colder and somehow darker.
. I still smiled at him through the wreckage. He couldn't understand how I could smile. Asked me if I knew what was going on. His words were muffled, he had blood in his mouth. So I turned my head to smile out of what was left of the window. I could kind of still see the road. I kept seeing instead where we were supposed to be going. Live out a dream. Make it across the country and tell people what we had seen.
. Mostly it was road. But the shining moments were real friendship, happiness and bonding. I could see the giant sequoia we planned to go to. I saw the aura borealis over the arctic ocean at midnight with his hand in mine. I could see the colorado streets I had seen as a child. I was on my way to being happy in each one of these life-long memories I made. But now I saw a fragment of broken off scrub-brush by the side of the road. Hanging by a last bit of stem where the force of the truck... doing something a few inches above the ground.
. I smiled and laughed to myself because I knew even this was a life-long memory I'd much prefer to remember positively. At the moment I was on my way to the monestary. And nothing was going to stop me and stop me from being happy about at least that. I looked forward at this moment in time to crossing onver the chasm that seperated home from the rest of the violent world and living where it was respected to be thoughtful and nice and it was encouraged to be pleasant to be around.
. I wanted to feel like it was ok to want to make people feel at ease and comfortable. At least, if this turned bad I had gone out sharing a smile. I didn't want this to happen, but it happening wasn't going to ruin my attempt at passing on a good mood. I was determined to survive this as well as look back on it and say "but it didn't get me down." So every time I saw a bit of road-side scrub or rain; smiling and giving it time, it wasn't long before I started to see past the road.
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