The Child: Entry 2

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The Beginning:

Prologue

Previously on The Child:

Entry 1

     By the time I became old enough to make logical decisions towards my future, I took full advantage of it. While my other friends were complaining to their parents that they couldn't have an extra serving of cheesecake I was pestering my father to learn things that a preteen shouldn't want to know. I wanted to know how the judicial system worked. I wanted to know why we had to sleep every night and what I wanted to know the most, how to drive. My father had an antique Triumph Bonneville that he purchased from after the war, but it roared as if it did through the streets on the same day he purchased it. After a few months of pestering my father he finally caved in and taught me on a nice fine morning, what happened that morning is of least importance but you can only assume the obvious. It took a while to get used to but by the time my mother made lunch was made I was driving as if I was a professional.

     My mother had a sweet smile; she kissed my forehead as she sat the food in front of me on a table on our porch. She proceeded to sit in the chair in front of me then she looked at me straight into my eyes and I could have sworn I almost saw her cry, but she pushed herself out of her chair, turned around and looked out over our large yard and watched the neighborhood kids play in the glistening sun. Years after this moment I found out that I was an accident child. 

     Within the first few years of my parent’s lovemaking, the tragedy of making a living being started to occur and just after a few years my parents knew each other, I was born. You would think the second they found out about the beginning of my existence they would want to exterminate my potential life--they did--but they didn’t do it. On the same week my parents married I was born--and only with a couple day delay--and we being given the chance to be blessed with life was more than extraordinary. Of all the things that could have happened--viruses, malnourishment, and abortion--I lived and my parents did everything they could to keep me to live, it was Emery.

     My mother was crying that summers afternoon because she knew she was dying, though not known to my father or even me it would only be a few more years till she would be pushed away from my life and I would only wish I knew her more. On a fresh spring morning that marked the date of my mother’s death I was only eighteen but I was way more mature than my age. I opened up my father’s garage and looked at his most precious Bonneville. I ripped off the cover and under the cover laid the motorcycle and a note on a off white piece of paper, it read:

Emery,I only wanted you to know that even-though your existence was flawed; your mother’s love for you was flawless     

     In the confusion of all my tears I flipped the message on the other side and wrote upon the opposite side and posted the letter on my fathers counter in the kitchen. I proceeded to start the engine of the Triumph and I roared off down the road.

     It was as if this scene was right out of a movie. I drove down the countryside roads never looking behind only with the clothes on my back--which were presently a pristine dress shirt, khakis and my father’s motorcycle-wear which was a dirty brown oversized leather jacket--and a big brown bag that had food and money and a few personal effects. I was prepared to go on a journey of no other. An adventure to meet new characters and live a full life. To forgive my father.  

     
Next entry in The Child:


Entry 3

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