I don’t intentionally look for symbols or meaningful patterns in life. They often hit me like in the old Monty Pythons sketch where they slapped each other’s faces with fish. In some instances, it’s much the same as changing into a favorite outfit; an outfit that is well-worn, comfortable, and a bit shabby.
These moments, for me, revolve around the boundaries of the school year. As a student, school was a welcome activity. I welcomed the social aspect and I loved to learn. My elementary years were interrupted by a serious car accident and I had to change schools for a few years. Big mistake.
I managed to navigate middle school without too many trials and tribulations though my home life was horrific at times. But it was the era of “don’t tell anyone, it’s none of their business.” So I quietly developed into a hot mess on the inside, masked by a cool outward demeanor. Humor became my best defensive tool.
Anxiety ruled my every thought and every move. Would I say the right thing? Will I give the right answer? Would I ever have some “cool” clothes? Why can’t I study like other kids? Will my father start a fight tonight? Will my brother pound on me for no reason? How many chores would there be to complete? These are the easy questions. Others would affect my sleep on many nights. I was in a constant state of “fight or flight.” But not at school. School was comfortable for me.
I was fortunate to encounter a few teachers who saw potential in me when I could not. Two of them encouraged my participation in intramurals, a series of after-school sports programs. As a latch-key kid it was good for me to have a purposeful activity each day. I will never be able to thank those two individuals enough for helping me at a time in my life when it was so crucial.
High school was a roller coaster ride that I survived. There are many good memories of that time, though I made many mistakes due to my life’s circumstances. I’m still loathe to speak of those “circumstances” due to the old school code of never speaking them aloud. And, honestly, they’re still traumatizing for me.
I digress. The month of June meant the anticipation of summer after the close of the school year. By my high school years it also meant exams in the gym with a few hundred other kids. But it also meant we could wear shorts because of the heat. No a/c in our schools. Exam time also included a flexible schedule and not having to be at school if one wasn’t scheduled for a test. I needed the structure of school so this was tough for me. Plus I had to hoof it the two miles each way.
It was the feeling of being on the cusp…how would exams turn out? would there be special fun on the horizon? what did the future hold? If I’d had even a modicum of foresight, I would have made some different decisions. I’ve navigated a difficult course thus far. And I’m so damned exhausted. One foot, then the other. I call this slogging. Slogging is equal to existing. Right now I’m ok with existence. I’m floating. Let me be.
“Old black water, keep on rolling/Mississippi moon, won’t you keep on shining…”. “Black Water”. The Doobie Brothers
Stories Are For Eternity 