My Time. By: Steven Holzbuaer. Darkness.
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By: Steven Holzbuaer
As I stepped off the plan, the thoughts flowed through my mind. I do not belong here not at this hour. It was two A.M in the Atlanta airport. We crossed the airport and head to the train. No one! We were all alone at the stop. Finally after what seemed like hours the train arrived.
We sat in silence. No one look as we did. Dressed as we did. Talked as we did. We were alone here at this hour. It would change when the sun comes up. But now there is nothing but the sound of the tracks under foot.
This is not for me. I am a country boy. But as far as my eyes can see there are only buildings. What will I do in this place? Only six more days left till I travel to my home.
The air seemed to weight me down when I walked into the house. There was something wrong with the feel of the place. Something out of the ordinary. As I turned the coroner and headed toward the kitchen, I could now see that there was something wrong. There sat my mother head in hands crying.
I could have laid on the floor and cried with her, but no not me not know. I tried to hide my feeling hold them back for no one to see.
In the darkness of my room I let my true feeling come out. The tears flowed freely from my eyes. My heart ached.
The ride seems to drag on like a bad movie. Finally we pull up to the weather battered brick building. As I walk throw the front door I am meet the same way as last year. My cousin comes up and give me a hug and introduces me to the same people that come every year. Nothing has changed. Not even the musty smell the creeps from the carpet.
We are late as always we eat in silence, voice chatter in the background. It seems the conversation never change. How’s the family? What have you been up to? The answers never seem to vary much either.
I don’t know if it counts as a paying job. Some weeks I get paid a dollar an hour or less. My parents were the first to give in. I am one of the stubborn ones never giving in. After weeks of constant harassment, but mom everyone else has a job why can’t I. So there I am doing the same old work and getting paid to do it. It seemed to give me a new outlook on the whole deal. Fixing the tractor was no longer just fixing the tractor now I was getting paid to do it.
The first couple of weeks went by good. I bet my output doubled then came the realization that I was only getting paid like a dollar an hour. All the work for a dollar, what next for free. Well in my mind I turned over the possibilities I could quit or go on strike, but for what use I would then be forced to do it for free again.
The walls seem to scream at you with their red paint. The heat wave tears at your flesh and drains your body of all energy. The atmosphere is one of hate and disgust. Why are we here? Why do we put or bodies throw this?
This room is my nightmare and my pride all in one. Inside of these walls we bond together and fight to become better. It’s for a chance to become great to show everyone that you have what it takes. Why else would I be here in this kind of atmosphere? The smell of stale sweat rise from the mats. Pools of sweat lay across the floor. This room is known for its atmosphere. It is seen on all the faces of the people the walk through its door.
Watch out, it is Bushy’s driveway!
Biting the ear, ready to ride.
I am part of this world and this world is part of me. We bond together to help build up the universe. I was always a kid that was found playing in the dirt. I love the outdoors. One day as I sat in my house staring out the window I came to realize I am just like the trees by our house.
I am a sturdy part of my family just as the trees are part of the line, they help protect each other. They bend in the strong winds and are battered by the rains, but every day when I wake up they are still there holding strong to their roots.
They remind me of myself I bend in the hard time but I never break. My strong roots and protection from my family help to pull me back on track ever time. They never abandoned me, they are by back bone my support.
I have always had the pleasure of having a older sibling to look up to. But there is not contest as to the one I look up to the most. Ben has been a role mold for years for me. I have also ways looked up to him even though we sometimes disagree.
Ben and I having been working together on the farm every since I was old enough to tag along with him. He never complained that I got in the way or caused trouble. No, he just put up with it and brought me along anyways.
Some of my most vivid memories are with Ben. The count less time we cheeked cattle together. The hours spent in the truck driving to and from the pastures. The time Ben threw up while driving down the road or the time he laughed at me after I about knocked myself out with a gate.
worth it, only time will tell
Where are you going? What purpose does your life have? Is it really worth the coast? Is this the right path to choose? Is this the right choice? Now? Do I have to? Why should I? Are they right or am I? What went wrong? How did this happen to me? Did I messes it up this time? When will it stop? Are we there yet? Who said that?
As I stare out the window I can only wonder what is my next step. Do I have a purpose in life or am I just another person sent to play the game. Should I come back to this place or move on to another and leave my mark there.
I have pondered these questions many times in my short eighteen years. I have yet to come up with the answer. I might be that I have yet to discover my future, but isn’t that the point. Are we not supposed to live life as the cards are dealt? I thought that my next step would be collage but is that the right choice for me, may be not. Who will ever know? There is only one way to find out and that is to live it out and see the outcome.
The morning brings yet another day of question. The house to the east seems to have someone living in it but known has seen them yet. I wake up early this morning to wait for them to come out. What is the chance that I will see them? It is like hunt; I wait and wait for the moment. Finally I see the two figures walking down the road. They are walking toward my house. I think this might be the moment when we finally meet the new neighbors. No! They turn around and walk back. The house is now dark again and nothing stirs within. We will have to wait for another day to meet.
As I wake the night has let to lift from the ground. I get dressed as quit as possible so not to wake my parents. I walk out the door closing it quietly behind me. I walk in darkness to the pickup and climb in. The truck roars to life and I pull slowly out of the drive way. Nothing stirs in the morning air all is quit. I park and make the half mile track to where I will sit. The wait will begin any moment now.
Pain glory pride, add to freedom