I have been doing some thinking about our conversation a few days ago and have concluded that I will take you up on the offer! I just sold my old bike and now have some money left over that I can use to pay for those seminars. I am going to see how soon I can get this done, I am going to look at the dates and send my form in. I will keep you posted on the status of things as they get processed.
Once you are a twelve you don’t have any more ceremonies and you are giver your role in the community.” ’ Well, it’s the last of the Ceremonies, as you know. After twelve, age isn’t important.” ’ lowry, lois.
So that is the story of that event in my life. It was a hard event that took place in my life but what is life without the struggle right? You always have to be prepared for what 's to come in life whether that may be your mom dying or your pets dying (bad things). To your first ATV or your first visit to a state fair or a world fair in that matter (good things). What about your first job or your first car or for instance your first marriage.
Twelve is sixth grade, first year of middle school, what more is there to say about twelve? Eleven, oh eleven how far gone are you. Fifth grade, five years ago seems like an eternity. Ten, first year as double digits, and the only things that really mattered in life were what was for lunch that day, and who all had candy with them, and what you had as trade to get that
One song in particular frequently stood out to me “The Passenger” (Gardiner, Iggy Pop). I saw myself as the simple yet well diverse passenger hearing this song at a young age had influenced my childhood and has followed me throughout my adult life making me into the person I am
I was the ultimate outcast. Plus, my face wasn’t the happiest so no one really approached me. The first day was really lonely. I remember texting my best friend from my last school and just wanted to start crying because I missed her so much. First and second passed by quickly than came lunch.
"Sometimes we need someone to simply be there. Not to fix anything, or to do anything in particular, but just to let us feel that we are cared for and supported." I wish that I had that "someone." I'm always that person for someone else, but when it comes to me, where are those people that I need to show me that I am cared for and supported?
How was I going to survive a place that I had never stepped foot in? Who was I going to confide in when I needed to be understood? That same day, I spoke to my best friend on the phone, I told her everything. My best friend and I have been through and seen it all. Ever since the first grade, we have been like two peas in a pod.
I remember saying to him on one Monday morning, “What did you do over the weekend Mike?”. He launched into an enthusiastic summary of his weekend which included being at Youth Group, going to church on the Sunday and I even think that he said, “the Lord” or “Jesus” in there somewhere. I was freaked out and I felt a visceral pull in my stomach. Thoughts raced through my mind like, “I thought he was a nice guy but he is a religious nut.” I recommended to him that he never speak to me about it again and I said it in a rather colourful manner.
Papers were scattered across the floor, every desk and chair was thrown against the door. Scratch marks trailed the wall. Dust floated around the small classroom and footprints laid in the dust. I stood in the corner with everyone else, My grey hair flowed in the wind coming from the smashed window. Sharp specks of glass pierced my bare feet as I walked to the window, I didn’t seem to notice or maybe I didn’t care.
Fourteen was the year of firsts. I had my first (real) kiss, my first funeral, my first surgery, and my first physical fight. This gamut of firsts pales in comparison to my first flight. I was forced to adapt my expectations of flying when boarding the compact monochromatic tube with accented by metal fins. My expectation was fanciful; insisting on feathered wings and an ideal that would allow me the room to extend myself as physically possible.
I had to read every book I could get my hands on. While my siblings would be outside playing I would be in my room reading. My book collection was greater than my mother’s and I was very proud.
Forest fires routinely rip the land apart, violently destroying the cluttered mess of trees, bushes and foliage that burden the earth, leaving behind a scorched landscape desolate yet rich with potential for new growth. In much the same way, my life was changed. My forest fire came in the form of faulty wiring and a leaky propane tank, which sparked a flame that engulfed my entire home and nearly my mother, leaving my family homeless for a time. This was a defining moment in my life, one that changed some of the largest aspects of my life, and gave me an idea of what I wanted my personal identity to be. At the time, my house fire took so much from me that it seemed impossible that I would actually gain anything from the experience; but as a scorched landscape quickly grows back stronger than ever, I quickly became aware of the new perspective the experience had given me.
I never imagined my life would turn out this way. Seven years old everything felt seamless. I was blessed with two parents who adored me, two older siblings who would do anything for me. I did not see any trace of a dead end road. By the time I was nine I realized everything in my life was changing, my family was not genuinely a family to any further extent.
I turned 12 years old the day I met the mountain man. The air was warm, and the bees were buzzing. A long table filled to its edges with pastries, Spongebob Squarepants themed decorations strung from corner to corner, and globs of cake like missiles from the babies launching mechanisms. My parents were filled with love, and I was filled with a sense of adventure and cake. The evening I left for my adventure my house was a jungle.
