by Pepperlandgirl
I stared and the stranger in the mirror stared back. My face, once clean-shaven, was rough with a thick beard. My mother used to keep my hair neatly trimmed above my ears, now it was down pass my shoulders. My eyes once held an innocent determination in their clear blue depths. Now, the sun washed eyes of a cynic stared into a dark future.
My body used to be young, thin, and fit. I hadn’t grown fat, but I was no longer trim. “Thick,” I thought, “I’m thick.” The clothes I packed when I left my house were all clean, neatly pressed, and mostly new. I couldn’t even remember how long it’s been since I bought new clothes.
Some would say I had let myself go.
I think I just grew up.
Two years. Two years I would have spent away from my family anyway. In two years I had done 10 years worth of living. Alone. My family never responded to my letters, and when I tried to call, my father would make the girls hang up. Cold, I know. That was the price I was willing to pay. But in their silence, I heard them loud and clear. “Give up this crazy idea now, and all is forgiven.” But I could not, would not.
My sisters would both be in high school now. Wearing make-up, dating boys, teasing them with a promise they wouldn’t keep. I’ll never forget their stifled tears outside my door as I packed. They wanted to come in and kiss me goodbye, beg me to stay, bid me farewell, and hug me with their chubby arms.
But they didn’t out of fear of my father, and I didn’t go to them out of fear of losing my resolve.
My father was in his study when I left. He had the door closed but I could still hear him praying. I doubted he was praying for understanding and patience. I paused outside the door, feeling myself weakening. I loved him. I understood then the battle between my father’s son and the truth seeker would never end.
My mother stood in the kitchen. She clutched a brown bag tightly and bit her upper-lip. “If you must go, please, be careful.”
“I will Mom, I love you.” I moved in to kiss her cheek goodbye, but she pulled back.
But, that was a long time ago. I won’t lie, I thought about that night a lot, especially when I began to lose faith in myself. I simply reminded myself what I sacrificed, and it gave me strength to continue my search.
A car backfired outside, and I jumped. Other then the occasional car or a dog, the area was pretty much deserted. The motel was a dirty little shack on the outskirts of town. The sheets were scratchy, the water was discolored, and the T.V. only had 2 channels…snow and pay-per-view porn. An uncomfortable place, but I’d stayed in worse and lived to tell the tale.
I sat at the edge of my bed, lighting a cigarette. I grimaced as I inhaled. Another bad habit I picked up. Smiling ruefully, I thought that my mother would rather me be an atheist than a smoker.
And that’s when I am now, a smoking atheist. Who would have seen that coming, ladies and gentlemen?
The years I should have been spending spreading the gospel I spent reading, talking, debating, and traveling. All of the things I’ve seen and the conversations I’ve held pointed me to one clear path. I really had no choice. And I had only been exploring the past, the present, and my feelings for two years. I still had a lifetime of discovery ahead of me.
So, why did I find myself back in Utah, a mere ten times from my family? What possessed me to travel halfway around the world on a whim? And that’s what it ultimately came down to…a whim.
I had been sitting in my crummy hotel room--$29 a night—for 4 days trying to decide what to do with myself. I may have changed in many ways, but I still felt like a coward. What would I say to them after all this time? “Hey Mom, Dad, sorry about running out two years ago with the money you worked hard to save. I’m an atheist now. Do you mind if I smoke? What’s new with you? Hey, what’s for dinner?” Somehow I knew that wouldn’t go over well.
I stubbed out my smoke and lit another. What a ridiculous situation I found myself in. I glanced out the window and watched a snowflake fall. The first of a cold Utah winter. It was coming early this year, before the air could even smell of burning leafs, the ground would be covered with an indifferent white blanket.
“It starts earlier every year,” I muttered.
Without any real resolution, I pulled my boots and my jacket on. I didn’t know if I’d actually talk to them tonight. I didn’t even know if I’d make it as far as their home. I did, however, know that I could not spend another night sitting in my dark little room, chain-smoking.
Even though I had only been away from the area for two years, I didn’t recognize most of the buildings. When I left, this road was an almost abandoned country lane. I guess nothing is immune to progress. But the changes I saw all around me made me worry about the types of changes my family went through these years.
Lost in thought I arrived on their street and almost passed their house before even realizing it. I stopped in front of their house and killed the engine. Out of habit and nerves, I lit a cigarette. Filterless…these things will kill me.
I could see them all through the living room window. I almost didn’t recognize the girls; they had both grown so much. My mother’s hair was gray, her face was lined with a few more wrinkles, but beyond that she hadn’t changed. My father though hadn’t aged one bit.
I don’t know how long I sat outside in the car, feeling the chilly air reach right to my bones. I watched them talk and laugh in the warm light, and was satisfied that they were healthy and happy. Though I could have sworn my father glanced up and looked right at me. I didn’t move my eyes from his for what felt like an eternity. Finally, I started my car and promised myself I would come back, soon.
... to be continued ...