I'm On My Way

Filled with the thoughts of my grandfather, I had fallen asleep full of pie. For the first time in a very long time I slept through the night soundlessly and had only good dreams. Despite my good sleep, I woke up to the sound of screaming and yelling above me on the roof. It sounded like an argument but I could only hear the one voice....? All of a sudden I heard "What THE FUCK are you doing with that gun!" At the sound of that I jumped out of bed and grabbed the first pair of pants I could find. It just so happened that they were my old black pants I used to wear to practice in. As I yank open my door, I am just pulling my pants over my hips.

Running up the stairs to the roof, I trip over the stairs and slip and fall. I feel a sting. I look down. My pants are torn and I have blood running down my shin from my knee. I take a second to breathe before I pull myself back up. I push myself off the floor wincing as the ripped skin is rearranged on my knee. As I get up, I hear a single shot ringing and echoing off the metal above me. I ignore the pain and yank myself up the stairs knowing I must help.

As I get up to the roof, I see a man reloading an old M16 incorrectly. I thank my father for this knowledge due to his career in the Russian army. The man does not even realize that I am less than 20 feet from him. He continues to rant as if there is someone else there. I cannot help but wonder what is wrong with this man. I see him walk towards the edge and I step out to go to help him but he turns around and looks at me with a blank dissociated sort of look. It is a serene moment. Like one from a movie. Interrupted by the police, they scream and yell at him to drop the rifle. With his eyes still on me, he raises the rifle awkwardly to his chin and pulls the trigger. His body falls in slow motion to the ground as the police rush to him.

I know it is now my time to leave. Slowly walking back down the stairs in a fog, everyone rushing up to his aid, I cannot get the sight out of my mind. I know that it is time for me to leave. After wanting to for so long, it is my chance. It is the right time. I am ready. The progression I have made must be continued elsewhere. And it will... must continue. 

I do not stop at my room but go to the store and find an old box. Still in shock, I find my way back to my room. I pack all of my belongings into this one box. Box in hand, I call my mom, the one person who has always loved me. The message machine comes on "It doesn't matter where you've been you can still come home and honey if it's you we've got a lot of making up to do and I can't hug you through the phone so hurry home" all I say is "Mom, I'm on my way"

I board bus 52... goodbye watershed heights I say as I watch it fade into the distance.

Grandaddy

After my long dinner last night, I came home and continued working. I knew the dust could not disappear with just an old rag so I went across the street to get some wood cleaner. Cleaner in hand, I grabbed an old shirt and began wiping down every surface. The filth was unimaginable. After the dirt, I moved to the windows. I caulked the holes and unstuck the window where the paint had begun to stick together. By the time the filth was gone and I had a real working window the sun had vanished and Watershed Heights was quiet.

I woke up to the smell of fresh, warm pumpkin pie drifting in through my freshly fixed window. Immediately, it took my back to standing in my grandfathers kitchen on thanksgiving day with all my family around. I can still feel the burn I got one year when I was careless pulling the roasted turkey out. I laugh to myself and look around with a smile on my face. Although I am sitting in Watershed Heights, I see myself in his kitchen. My grandmother would have been out gardening or at least picking fresh mint out of the garden for lemonade. No matter what time of the year I went to their house the fish pond would be running and there would always be fresh, chilled lemonade. The garage, most likely, still has his old 3 point bucks on the wall and grandmothers painting scattered around. I can feel the humidity from the greenhouse and the breeze coming over the Birmingham hills on my skin.

I jump out of bed and grab a decently clean shirt and pair of loose jeans. Outside of my door I hear others leaving their rooms and clambering down the steps to get to their pie. Trying to beat them, I jump over the banister and manage to successfully land on the steps below. Running outside, I see a line curving around the block. I sigh. I think to myself "oh well, if this pie can bring back my grandaddy then it has gotta be worth it" as I get in line.