Apathy, Man

"Where are you going?"

It was a straight-faced question. Devoid of innocence, full of genuine curiosity.

"Away," came Mom's reply.

"Oh. Can i come?"

I never could stand missing out on adventure, and our driveway was gravel. The cottonwoods that surrounded the dirt cove reached for the skies like beaten gunslingers of the old West. Opie's excavation trucks jostled up and down Leeper Lane pounding the dirt farther into the earth everyday. Sometimes, it was packed down enough to let moms inline skates roll me around the potholes and death pebbles. Four houses, three Russian gangsters, a porsche mechanic, a world famous fly fishing guide, Rabbit Row Car Repair, one precious labrador, a broken home, and at the end of the road; an estate to rule them all.

The sun filled our little cove that was a shared driveway to the two smallest houses, ours and the angler's. Summer breeze caressed the branches high above causing the sun to wink at me from its perch at high noon. The essence and beauty of our life wasn't lost on my eight year old mind, but i just lived there. It wasn't home. If it helps to drive the point home (or wherever), i didnt even ask why Mom was leaving.

Her 2001 4Runner was being stuffed with the last of her belongings when i caught her. If it was tetris, everything would've dissapeared the second that last box slid into its perfect vacant space. Leaving the car empty, save for mom's body filling the drivers seat while she peels away. Someone once told me that was the secret lesson to the game of Tetris. That if you constantly try to fit in with the rest, you'll wind up dissapearing. No longer able to be labeled or categorized. Even then, i knew society had failed us when i looked around and saw the faces of those who no longer desired to be unique.

Life wasn't bad, no, it was misshapen, indecisive, and blurry. With only a greasy rag to clean the lens.

"You can come visit me," she says.

Good enough for me. I shrugged off any desire to push harder. There was nothing about this situation that suggested i had any control. I was used to it. Besides, having the responsibility of control was too much stress. You always risk having the power begin to control you. And i never let my mold harden so much that it would snap at the next twist of fate. Time to move out of the womb? cool. Papa moves the two of us into a dingy basement in Colorado? Cool. Oh, you and mom are foolish enough to get back together? Sure, i dont care, do whatever you want. Im busy looking under rocks.

I never pretended not to care, i just didnt. Something mom always talked about like it was a disease. Something about how i'm an "asshole" because im "too apathetic" because I "have PTSD" that i "inherited from my Dad." Remember, im eight years old, and the attention span i have to solve problems for a 45 year old, and a 55 year old, is already extremely limited.

Now, im facing the repercussions of being a complete, and total asshole for 23 years. I dont see the gray areas that seem to exist inbetween black and white. Im missing manners and rods, i guess. Good news is i'm still and always will be the most open sonofagun you may have ever met, and my beautiful woman gives me lessons in respectable educate everyday. She knows i will always do or say without hesitation based on repercussions. But, there is a way to always be completely untamed that shows respect to the general human condition. I mean, we are all in fact "civilized" people.