Week #4

"What the fuck is your problem, Mary", my dad yelled to my mom.
"I don't have a fucking problem, what's yours?" She yelled back.

I was 11 at the time, and my younger brother, Andrew, only 7. We were sitting out in the living room watching tv while they argued for the millionth time. I looked over at my younger brother to see if he was getting upset. He stared back at me with tears in his eyes.

"What do you want me to do? Move out?! Would that make you happy?!" Dad shot back at mom.

It was then that I got up, walked over to Andrew, grabbed him by the hand and then walked down to my bedroom, closing the door behind us. Mom and dad were too busy fighting to even notice we had even left the room. Even with the door shut, we could hear them yelling back and forth to eachother. I didn't have time to get upset, I had my little brother to worry about. I was laying on my bed, and Andrew sat on the floor beside me.

"Is dad not going to live here anymore?", he asked, looking up to me with tears streaming down his face.

At eleven years old I had to find the words to say to comfort my brother over the same fear I had, of my parents splitting up. His question punched me in the stomach. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, closing them to make sure none escaped. After all, I had to be the strong one.

"No, they're just fighting again. It'll be fine in the morning." I managed to say without my voice cracking. Although, one more question like that and I would have had a melt down.

I turned on the tv in my bedroom so we had something to drown the fighting out with, which also put us to sleep.

The next morning I didn't dare be the first one up, since I didn't know the result of the argument. I didnt want to be the one to discover that Dad wasnt here anymore, but I also didnt want Andrew to be the first to notice either. I dragged myself out of bed, already trying to find an excuse to give to Andrew as to why Dad had left. Walking into the kitchen, I was surprised to see them both out there, coffee cup in one hand, and a pack of cigarettes in the other, getting ready to walk outside to have a smoke.

I let out a sigh of relief as I walked back down to my room where Andrew was awake when I walked back in.

"Is Dad still here?", he hesistated.
"Yeah, they both are.", I replied.

A smile started to come across his face. "Good, because Dad said we were gonna work on snowmobiles today!" He gets up to run out, and see them.

I tried to act excited for him, but I was too busy wrestling with the same old question that weighed on my mind after every argument they had.

"How long will it be until the next one?"

Week #3

I start work at 2:30 and get out at 6:30. Four hours, some would say, "Suck it up" but my how my shift goes depends on someone else's mood, something I'm not particularly fond of. I can count on having a bad day 2 out of 5 days of my work week. I really enjoy my job on good days, it can be very rewarding, but on the bad days, my patience run thin and sometimes the thought of getting a new job crosses my mind. The hours are too perfect to fit my classes in durring the day and then work a few hours in the evening, so the only "sucking up" I'm going to do, is sticking out this job for as long as I can.

I need to start getting ready by 1:40, done by 1:50, my L.L. Bean tote bag is packed, which consists of a sweatshirt, water bottle, and a binder with all my work papers in it. Before I go, I let Brodey out, throwing the firsbee for him a few times before putting him inside for five hours.

 It 2:00, time to go.

Google maps says it's 16.4 miles from my door step to the place where I work, 28 minutes. However, after doing this drive for a little over two years, it feels like it takes an hour to get there. The drive is boring, there's only one way to get to there, unless I want to add an extra 20 minutes to my drive for a scenery change, I'd rather spend the extra 20 minutes at home with my dog.

I get in my car, put my bottle of water in the cup holder, tote bag in the passenger seat, and put the radio on Z107.3. I channel hop the entire way to work, annoying myself at times. I can't call anyone to talk to make the time pass quicker since I have spotty service and it would only frustrate me to keep losing signal and having to keep calling the person back, so I safe myself the trouble.

The drive starts by going through the town of Dexter, from one end to the other.  Nothing ever changes, besides maybe a new pothole that may have emerged. One pothole is big enough to do front end damage, for real. All this town does is fill the holes with some kind of tar filler that washes out when it rains. The only part I look forward to is going over the lake, passing over the bridge that has the lake on both sides.  I get to see how rough the water is, see if there is anyone fishing, or if there are any boats out there. It's even better when it's sunny and nice out.

The next 13 miles are nothing but hills, trees, and a house here and there. Fortunately, I don't get stuck behind any buses, just the occasional slow truck driver that struggles up the hills. Which, ironically enough, seems to only happen when I'm running late from throwing the frisbee for Brodey one too many times.

After getting past the lake in Dexter, the speed limit is 50mph, except for about 1/4 way through, in North Dexter, it turns to 45mph going down a hill, which is as annoying as it sounds.  Especially since every now and then a cop will tuck himself in behind a building at the base of the hill waiting for someone to pull over. Luckily, I havent been that someone...yet.

There are two houses I'm in love with that are along my daily route. The first one is about the halfway point on my journey to work. It's a cute two story, old farm house that has apparently been updated. It has tan cedar shingles, two bay garage, paved driveway and a freshly planted willow tree out front by the rock walk way. The only negative about the house is its about five feet from the main road. But I can picture it now, I'll be walking up the rock way, while David's parking the SUV in the garage, I'll let Brodey out and he'll go greet David with jumping up on him. Later in life, I'll be yelling at the kids to stay away from the road. That house wont work.

The next house is about five miles away from work. It's a split lever house with pretty green cedar shingles, a  two car garage, cute porch, paved driveway, and sits about a half a football field's length away from the main road.  You're greeted with a huge rock that has the family's name on it, and beautiful flower gardens line the well taken care of lawn. The only negative thing about this one is that I'm not a fan of split level homes, but I could look past that depending on the layout of the inside. Again, I can picture it now, David will be getting home from work being greeted with the large rock that says "Sinclair's", Brodey and I will be waiting on the porch to greet him next, and we'll walk up the stairs into our house so I can get dinner ready.  Later on in life, the kids will be playing on the lawn. It could work.

Back to reality, I find myself wondering what type of mood my consumer will be in, hoping I dont have to walk on egg shells to please him today.

At about 2:19, I see the same black, extended cab truck I see every day at the same time. He never seems like he's in a hurry, so I haven't figured out if he's going to work or going home from work, or if he even works? Either way, he's on some sort of a schedule. I wonder if he's caught on to seeing me at the same time every day? Some day I'll wave.

Going through the town of Guilford, enjoying my last few quiet seconds by myself, I admire the small town. The little shops, an elderly couple walking holding hands, tennis courts, and a play ground. It seems like a nice, quiet little own. I pull onto the Reddy Ave, mentally preparing myself for my four hour shift that starts in about 10ft. I pull in, grab my tote bag, get out of the car, walk up the stairs, take a deep breath, and knock on the door. It's not long before I'm already checking my cell phone to see what time it is.

After the dreaded four hour shift, I hop into my car with a sigh of relief. I'm headed home and not even a dropped call when going in and out of service is going to ruin my ride home!

Week #2

"Are you thirsty?" My sister in-law Brittany asks.
"Yeah, I'll have water if you've got one out here?" I replied. Almost dying of thirst from sitting out in this heat.
She hands me a new, ice cold, bottle of poland springs.  I drink until I begin to get the brain freeze affect. I set my bottle down on the patio set. The foods done, and I'm begining to worry about how bad the two dogs will beg while we eat outside. I sit down with my plate of BBQ chicken, potatoe, corn on the cob, and bottle of water. I look over and my black lab, Brodey is sitting up to the right of me, and to the left of me is Duke, my sister-in laws chesapeake bay retriever. 

I try to ignore them, continuing to eat and drink the water Brittany gave me. After dinner, I breath a sigh of relief that the two dogs didnt beg that much. I finish my bottle of water, and start to play with it, squishing it, making that crunchy, squishy sound. The two dogs are begging worse, and theres not even any food on the table. 

I accidently drop the bottle while playing with it, and before I could even process it, the two dogs are growling at eachother, diving after the bottle. Brodey comes up with the bottle, and runs off. Laying down on the grass, bottle in his mouth, with Duke sitting directly in front of him waiting for any chance to scoop in and grab it.

Brodey accidently drops it, and Duke makes the scoop he's been waiting for. Brodey doesnt even try to beat him to it.

Duke runs off with it, Brodey chasing him. They run around for about 4 minutes, Brodey still chasing Duke. Duke is too scared to sit down with it, fearing it will be snatched away. Finally, Brodey caves, and slams himself down onto the grass for a break. Duke finds a place, laying on his back, leaning against a patio chair piled with buns, chips, and leftovers thrown onto a plate. While playing with the bottle in his mouth, he squirms around on his back, looking like hes trying to scratch it. Brodey is sitting a safe distance away, still watching him.

Duke tips the chair over while laying on his back, and the food goes every where.  Duke jumps up, dropping the bottle, and darts to the other side of the chair to pick up a quick hot dog.  Brodey ignores the food, sprints in and scoops up the bottle and rushes over to where we was sitting, drops the bottle, and lays on it to hide it. 

Duke gets scolded for getting into the food, and goes back to lay down where he was, looking for the bottle before plopping down. Brodey continuing to watch Duke look for the bottle.

Finally, Duke goes over to Brodey and lays down in front of him, Brodey got a little scared and slightly moved, forcing the bottle to make a noice.  Duke's ears shoot up, and then looks at Brodey, tilting his head to the side as if to ask, "What was that?!" It doesnt take Duke long to figure out he has the bottle, he begins sniffing Brodey and around him.  Brodey lays still, trying not to move.

Just then Duke accidently steps on Brodey's tail, and Brodey shoots up, revealing the bottle! Duke scoops the bottle up and runs away.  Brodey, still tired from running, sits down, and watches Duke take off. 

Duke stops, looks back, looking at Brodey, as if to ask "Aren't you going to chase me?!" Brodey doesnt take the bait. Duke rops the bottle, trots over to Brodey, and the two lay down, calling it a day.

Next time, I wont worry about them begging for food, but instead for bottles.

Week One- Nature

On the last Sunday of October, Gramp and I start down the trail behind his house to go for our usual walk. We've been doing this every Sunday since I was 13, we start the walking ritual when it warms up, and stop when it cools down so much that he needs three layers, a hat, and mittens. He never complains about the temperature though, as each Sunday in the fall comes, and we get ready to head out, he just puts on an extra layer. But smelling the air today, I know this will be our last walk of the year.

Today, there isn't a cloud in the sky, just the sun shining brightly down on us, without the cool fall breeze, it would have been much warmer. Every time the breeze picked up, it would throw around the colorful leaves that have fallen off the trees.

The old beaten trail, has been walked for eight years, that I’ve been apart of. What grass that is left on the trail, is laid down, with spots of bare ground peaking through. The bushes that line most of the trail are blueberry, blackberry, and raspberry bushes that make for a good snack when they’re ripe. When they are ripe, Gramp will bring a paper cup with him, fill it to the brim with blueberries, and then excitedly hand it to Gram when we get back. Each time she gets the cup of berries upon our return, she appears to get a little more excited and smile a little brighter. Soon after being handed the paper cup, she eagerly walks into the kitchen to bake fresh blueberry muffins.

As we come to the part of the trail that traces the edge of a big open field along the way, its me that first sees a big doe, and two baby fawns under one of the many apple trees that grow in the field. I choose to not interrupt my Grandfather who is telling me about the latest ‘blonde’ thing my Grandmother has done, since he speaks so softly that he couldn’t scare them away even if he tried. He motions to sit down on the two big rocks that act as a bench, overlooking the field. He suddenly stops what he’s talking about, leans in close, brings up his right hand and points to the little family of deer feasting on the fallen apples. I decided to let him think he spotted them first when a smile comes across his face, and says, “See, there’s nothing wrong with my old eyes. I don’t know what your Grandmother is talking about.”

We decide to sit for a little while to enjoy “one of God’s blessings”, as Gramp says. The two baby fawns dance around, jumping in front of each other to get a reaction from the other deer, but then immediately jump back. When they run, they’re still a bit wobbly, making it easy to be able to tell just how young they are.

The wind picks up for a strong breeze, rustling the trees around us, making the three deer look over in our direction. They stared for about thirty seconds, with Gramp staring back at them, still with a smile. Soon after, the deer go back to their own business, acting as if were not even there. After a few minutes the baby fawns lay down under the apple tree, nestled into one another, probably for warmth.

We finish up our walk at the big, tall oak tree that’s about ¼ of a mile away from where we’re sitting. As we reach it, Gramp places his love-filled, gentle hand in the same spot he does every Sunday, dragging it around the tree as we walk around it to head home for the last time this year.