Some days I am not interested in talking about the call center. Sometimes I just like to write about good days or bad days in my life outside of the call center. That's what I'm going to write about today.
When I was a kid I didn't have a lot of close friends. There were times I did, but we always seemed to drift apart, I'm not sure why. Sometimes they moved, other times they did something that made me mad, sometimes, there was just no real reason. I spent a lot of time on my own, riding my bmx bike, hunting, shooting pop cans with my Daisy Red Rider BB gun. I was happy spending time on my own. Sure, I had friends over for sleep-overs where we had marathon Monopoly parties, or I went to the movies or the mall for dates, but I just didn't have that need to always be with someone.
There was one day in particular that I will always remember. There were some hills near my house, not mountains, but they rose at least three to four-hundred feet with some woods around them. I remember this day because it was right before I moved away from the town I had grew up in. My mom and dad had found different places to work at about 500 miles from my hometown. I set out to spend one last day in the woods at the top of the hill behind my house. It had no real name, we called it Water-Tower Hill because there was a water tank on one side of it.
I loaded my yellow Jansport pack with all those things I kept hoping I would need if I got lost in the woods, and left the house on my epic trek. After about ninety minutes walking, I arrived at the top of the hill, sweating and panting a little. The entire world I had known during my short life was spread out before me. It was all there, places so normal and boring, but precious to me. I could see the church to the West where I stole my first kiss from a pleasingly-plump brunette. We met in the trees behind the building after a Wednesday night service. There was a park by the river where I fed the ducks bread when I was little and fished off the bridge when I got older. To the South was the 7-11. I visited there as often as I got my allowance or could make a little money scrounging up pop cans or beer bottles in the trash cans and alleys that lined the route from school to home. Normally, I spent my proceeds on a cherry and cola slurpee, a Charleston Chew or just fed the quarters into the Galaga machine. To the North was the Dairy Queen whose special was French fries with bacon gravy,(outstanding in their greasy goodness). In the middle of town was my elementary school that was across the street from my Grandma's house. I remembered going there after school and enjoying the best sweetened sun-tea and Jello-pudding cakes this side of heaven. While I could not see it, I knew that to the South were the fields where Dad took me rabbit hunting and where I really felt like we were becoming friends, not just father and son.
As I turned around to the East, the other side of the hill, I saw the land I had visited before, but didn't really know. Spread out before to a horizon I could not see. Part of me felt scared, part of me was angry my parents were leaving all that I loved, and yet another part of me was excited to find some real adventure outside of this town of 30,000 people. All those feelings coalesced together, so it was indistinct which was the strongest. In the noisy autumn wind, it all sort of melted away, and for about thirty minutes I was seized with a feeling that is so common at that time of life: I felt more alive to everything around me than I ever remembered before that time. Up above the town and people that defined all I knew about the world, I knew there was more out there than this town, and I was finally ready to leave to find out what else was out there on the other side of the hill for me.
Thanks for reading,
Purgatory: A place of suffering and torment with an unknown duration. In Roman Catholic Theology-the place where the dead are purified from their sins.
By Rage Against The Machine