Memories fade. Probably one of the most cliché song lyric of all time, yet one of the most true. If memories slip away like quick sand, why is it so hard for us to let them go? If I could even begin to sort mine out, I think I might could give them away. I like sunshine and daisies, without optimism (and scripture and prayer), I would be for naught.
All anger, all sadness, all jealousy stems from that which we cannot have. Whether it is OUR way or the way it was before, there seems to be such a simple solution to such complex problems. Or perhaps a simple problem with a complex solution. Or maybe it's not complex or simple or even a problem at all. Maybe things just happen and Yah creates reasons behind us so our finite minds have a door to learn to accept that which simply IS.
Memories fade.
I think that might be the most cliché song lyric of all time, yet oh so true. If memories slip away like quick sand, why is it so hard for me to let them go?
Maybe it's selfish to eternalize them. But maybe the only way to do them justice for peace (or to find me) is to give them away...
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I had forgotten that I loved to write.
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"Your available balance is 37 cents. To repeat this information, press star. To return to the main menu--" Click.
"Okay, babe. We have 37 cents in our bank account, 62 cents on our food stamp card, 26 cents on my unemployment card, $1.12 on your credit card and $1.16 in change. So that's...$3.53. Friday's the tenth, so we have gotta make whatever we buy last until midnight Thursday night."
"What's today?"
"Monday...So I'm thinking hotdogs."
"I'm sick of hotdogs."
"Can you think of anything else that will feed us for three days?" He shakes his head. I didn't think so. We head into Wal-Mart. It's about 2 a.m. and the store is quiet. I like doing shopping that way, no one can bother, no one can judge. It is much easier on him if the store is empty.
Loaf of bread - check; 98 cents. Hotdogs...88 cents each, three would be $2.64 plus 98 cents would be...
"Oh my gosh, Shannon!!"
I grew up in the country where everybody knew everybody but I was never really country; least not enough for the country folk. I said "y'all" and "ain't" but I never shot a deer, I didn't go to church, and quite frankly, I've always been too short to much care for trucks. And as an adult, I've grown to care even less for people, especially people from my old life.
And there I was, face to face with Brandon Smith. I'm sure I had a deer-in-the-headlights look, I hadn't seen him since high school and so much had happened in two years. He didn't seem to notice, "So how are you and James? Where are you working nowadays? Why are you here, I thought you moved off."
"Yeah, we did but we had to come back because his mom was sick."
"Awww, I think I had heard about that. So how's college?"
The one question I haven't quite found a good way to answer yet. "I dropped out."
"What?? You?? No! You're like the smartest person I know and you're selling yourself short! If anyone should have made it out of this town, it's you. What the hell happened?"
I look down at my big toe playing peek-a-boo through my tennis shoe. I was kind of prepared for this to come up at some point. Shannon, the socially awkward band geek who's one claim to fame was academics - was a jobless college dropout.
"Life happened."
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