• It's presently stormy outside. Just read bedtime stories with my little sisters before I turned out the lights and left them with goodnight's, I love you's, and kisses on each of their foreheads. Each of them read a story. Ashley read two, the first and the last, because she didn't think it was fair that everyone got to read one, for it was "her turn." There was Goodnight Moon first, thank you Ashley, followed by a rhyming, sing-song verse of Clap Your Hands, thank you Shelby, then a fine run through of Curious George by Torrie, and finally a quick stumble through Madeline as Ashley finished the night. Amazing to watch young people read. Torrie, the oldest, 11 now recognizes words fairly well, however there are still some she isn't wholly familiar with, that I must give to her. "Dangling" for example, and also, the word "bugle." Ashley, the youngest, now 7, is the second to Torrie in competence. Recognization is also good, she is beyond sounding out the letters for every word, though there are still some she is yet to become familiar with, among these are "appendix," "ceiling," and "crank." Shelby, however, has a very difficult time. She is in the middle, will be 9 in November. And she has such trouble with remembering which words are which. She will struggle with the word "wiggle" to the point where I have to say "wiggle, the word is wiggle." Then only a few pages later, the word is there again, "wiggle" but she cannot identify it, and she sounds it out again, letter by letter. She does not recognize. And she guesses far too much. But patience is key, I must be careful not to lose my temper, no matter how frustrating it can be. It is possible that she is dislexic. Ahhh, it is what it is. A beautiful thing though, too be able to be with these young people, these children as they grow, as they mature and learn. They are little humans, gaining and acquiring more each day that goes by. It is a joy and an inspiration to see their eyes focus and obtain, wonder and realize, and to see their laughter at such simple ideas, like oh look, the monkey climbed the tree. Ashley smiled as she read, "Good night no-one." I hear the wonder in her voice at the strangeness of such a thought. And all the while, our dog Spot lay quietly on the foot of Ashley's bed, indifferently dozing, perhaps listening to our voices float round the room. This is the expression of what my night has been. Different from others my age, I always find myself thinking. Am I an old man? Or am I turning 20? sometimes I am confused on the matter. My situation calls for certain premature wisdom. A brother who is also a father. In a sense. And always, I do my best to rise to the occasion. In highschool, I was, I will say, experimental. Drugs and drinking, smoking, partying, the whole gambit. I was a teenage waster, a proud, lazy, self righteous, opinionated bastard hippy. I kept my face clean at home, always, but I had a mask that I would don to experience life in the shadows. I had a secret life, as so many kids in highschool are forced to have. How funny that getting in trouble with the law after graduation, being put on probation for 3 years, would actually cause my behaviour pattern to shift, alter, change. Funny, I think, for that is the intention of punishment. I took the whole shit to heart. Cut out pot, acid, mushrooms, all of that muddled jazz, eventually dropped cigarettes, stopped drinking soda, began to take life seriously, as I so often thought. Began to think of my life as something that must be taken care of. Something that required a little looking after. I learned determination and self discipline. And I enjoyed the changes as they occured in me. I learned what it was to work hard and come home sore. I flushed my mind of laziness and pointless, defeatist nihilism. I began to live For something. And that something was myself. Began to think of myself as a role model to others, especially, in particular to my little sisters. For they are the easiest ones to whom to be an example, because, by the way of my situation, they already look up to me more than I understand. And now, multiple months clean, new job, still paying off debts, I'm working on starting school this semester, trying to get this life off the ground. I have this attitude that I can't stop, because if I stop, it will take me forever to get going again. Always happens. I get stuck in the lulls. Shit man, it's like I'm just standing, teetering on the edge of this great escarpment, I'm itching to just jump, just leap into infinity, just go! go! go! But I've got to remember to be patient. It's not my time just yet, I have not the money nor the time to get out. It can be summed up. Put in your time, pour out your sweat, pick up that dime, pay off that debt. That will be my life, for a while. And once the debt is repaid, then we've got another story, another attitude on our hands. I'm waiting inside a cocoon before I can emerge into a burst of color, light, wings, and life. And that's alright with me. I see my friends jumping all around, with the nets beneathe them made of loans. The whole highschool gang in the same space. No change, no growth, no progress, no establishment of each as thyself. They band together, and go through life together, whereas I want to do it alone. Maybe meet some new people along the way. I said it before, it spells disaster. But I can't hate, I can only hope for them. Hope for their happiness in the life they chose and that I chose not. I pray no harm befalls them, and I turn and walk in the opposite direction, away from the danger that I sense where they dwell. Is it true that one must save himself? If so, then old friends are the snares that keep one trapt in one's thorny past. We all must leave where we came from if we want to go anywhere at all. I must Move Along, so to speak. (heard that on the radio twice today) Ah, but this has gotten so long! I've so much to say, and no one to whom I can say it! So I just take it down. I pour it out. A great invention, might I say, for with my translation of this language, I can talk as if you were my friend, as if I actually was talking to someone else. Though I am not, writing, it is an illusion, and a beautiful way of keeping track. Of documenting the moments. And I wonder who, besides me, will ever read through. Peace, till next time.

• dude that is a very cool thing u have going there, your sisters must be proud to have an older brother that has learned to not fall back into the abysmal dark he once was in, only to realize the error of his ways before he was too late, its people like you who earn their pay lead a long fulfilling life. i wish you the best on your long road to redemption from your past life.

  rafael9409on July 28, 2010   Link

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