If the life I can take should spread its wings

If  words be the breath I take and sing

I will never forget it

Ill never have to remind myself

          ~Chapter one~

          Every Fall Time under the grey stubborn sky I would sit and think of my dreams.  Silly questions would arise like…where are all the deer? I lived in a place where we would look for wild life, but never seem to actually witness it running about in its incredible way.  I dunno. I suppose we always had bad timing.  Its awright. Memories are difficult theses days.  You see, my mom died.  She had cancer, but…well, she’s gone now.  All I have are memories.

          You see, I’m a young boy.  They tell me I’m brave.  I’m always getting attention.  Attention, attention, attention.  I like it.  But sometimes I want to be running away from it.  You know, like in those movies with cool guys with cool names. Names that everyone know and are really common, but somehow these guys are still cool.  They make the names cool.  I wanna be cool.  I guess I’m getting there.  I’m wiser for the wear after all the years of mom dying.

          Anyway, back to those memories.  I sit and get restless.  I think about making my bed a lot.  Over and over, cuz momma said I need to do a lot more to help.  So I made my bed and smile cuz I was helping out.  They were all so impressed.  I’d do the bed, clean the dishes, or at least not leave em all aboot.  Id even check under the bed, get those dirty socks.  Oh ya! Im in grade 4 and I do my own laundry! Dad helps out by writing directions on a tiny piece of paper.  Its been taped on the wall behind the washer for years now.  I don’t really need to look at it anymore.  All I notice is how ugly the wall is. Grey and musty.

          Anyway, that’s one of those memories.  That piece of paper.  Mom always made a point in telling Dad how messy his writing was.  Couldn’t read it, but I know he really cares.  He tried to write as neat as possible.  Adults are so strange, they all write differently.  All..kinda like..the color of peoples hair, or the shapes of their bellies, some round, some flabby.  Dad’s good looking though.  I bet he got lots of attention when he was my age.  Hes a nice guy, but that doesn’t matter to a kid like me.  I just notice it when he takes me to baseball games.  Ill be playing catcher and hes always smiling and getting along with the other dads.  How I remember all these things I don’t know.  But those make up them memories awright.


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