Lucas
July 4, 1995
I watched a young family as they enjoyed each others company on a thin blanket stressed out across the grass. The children couldn’t have been more than three years old and they looked to be twins. The mother looked on adoringly as the boys climbed on their father as though he was a jungle gym. Their father laid there almost as though he didn’t notice the presence of his boys as he gazed dumbfoundly at the fireworks that crackled in the sky. It was quite a site to see. I don’t think that I even paid attention to the fireworks. Her watching them, them watching their father, and nobody watching her. The scene kicked up old memories of my childhood. No one ever seemed to notice my mother either, until there was no one there to notice.
When the fireworks ended, I watched as all of the families and couples packed up their chairs and blankets and headed off to their cars. White lights illuminated the area as Independence Day drew to a close. It didn’t take long for me to be the only one left in the park. The brief invasion of my seclusion wasn’t too bad. For a second, I was able to share in their love of the holidays, their love of each other, but this, this freedom is what I prefer. I took a deep breath, inhaling the warm night air that had enveloped me in it’s silence. I prayed for a cool breeze tonight, but all I got was the music of the crickets that surrounded me. That was alright with me. I laid on my comforter and lost myself in the stars that filled the night sky, unpolluted by the lights of the city. I wasn’t in a rush. I had no place to be. No one was waiting up for me to come home, no one was wondering where I went off to. This was my life now. Who am I kidding, this has been my life for a while.
It’s been about two weeks since I left my aunt’s place. I decided to return to the only place that has ever really felt like home to me. When I left, I didn’t even know where I was going, I was just driving. No thoughts went through my head, I just ended up here. I’m not exactly sure where here is and I don’t quite know how to describe it, except to say, it’s here. The first night, I just parked the car and sprawled out in the back seat. I was so uncomfortable. I’m way too tall to have any business laying in the back seat of a tiny ass Honda Civic, but there I was, my leg perched atop of the passenger seat, my other leg pushing against the rear windshield, my head slightly cocked and almost dangling off of the side of the chair. It sounds as uncomfortable as fuck, but I can’t remember the last time I felt more at home. I wasn’t wondering whether today would be the day that I would be asked me to move out. I didn’t have to plan a way in which to spend every second of my day in order to avoid crossing paths with anyone at the house. No elaborate strategy had to be plotted in order to avoid looking like I was wearing the same clothes I had worn earlier in the week. I was free.
I’ve never been a good sleeper. My nights have been littered with mental to-do lists, rehashing’s of the days conversations, and thoughts of what I should have said, where I should have gone, and whether I accomplished my goals for the day for as long as I can remember. But out here, it’s different. I’m finally at peace, so at peace is where I have remained.