©
A month of Sundays came soaring by and was left imprinted on the footnotes of calendars. Gaining with the milestones, a bond with Tamer, awkward intimate moments with Tagert, and obvious muteness from none other than Leonard. Words and punctuality from my foster mother, Arunia, who enclosed me in understanding, with commentary of selfless acceptance.
Speculations round the special connection and awesome prosperity, made it less surreal. A fantasy force brought her to me and I to her. My own mother looking opposite to Arunia. In the secrets told, it may have been why I let the comfort passed the walls. The ideas on my behalf’s location didn’t trouble her mind in the slightest. Arunia welcomed behaviors of destruction and dishonesty. Confirmation that it was okay to express anger, to throw things out of temperamental frenzy. To break in mournful sorrow, wishing to take back movements displayed. Swaddled in quilts of acceptance, making it obvious to me in a former life, she once reflected the image of a straggler girl.
When the time was meaningful and right. Soon I began to grow and as I grew I began to wonder. Minds are meant to wonder, but on a short leash we’d been advised. In the aspect of commercialism; freedom fondled the better way of living. I remember recalling to myself several times sassily saying what leash? Although the scars trickled deeper than my obvious disobedience toward old aged ways.
My mystic friend took a final inhale on the night I turned 21. I soon began preparation as often as I could to support my own wellbeing. Money left behind for Trae Lae’s own doings. I wanted to be accountable for my own surviving. She exited life, with more to give than a lesson or two.
She projected my timeline as I outlived hers. The miracle wasn’t that she could be saved, it was that she responded to nature and the mother took her away. I cried for this loss of this mothering ideal. My heart spoke in hush tones, every now and again. Stories being told of how long I traveled, where I had gone and why I set in motion my fleeting ways.
Coming of the times of life sunblind. “Remember you love him,” she quoted. The last thing she said thinking of my brother. Of course, I do love Malachi.
Next week’s spent clearing out the trailer on this abandoned air field, they told me to bring it with me, but retired its use.
Arunia always communicating in conundrums as she tried to continue in the raising of a well-mannered woman. As eclectic as her voice rang out, she made a strong point to be unique, to be an outcast. Involved herself in the belief to belong long enough to love and be loved in return.
Half of me understood why the circus claimed her as one of their own. She was as if a grandmother figure to the children playing acrobatics. Lessons and stories, whispered fortune and fame, while other advised to remove oneself from the spotlight.
I was making a clearing for my future. I had been accepted to a university in Idaho. The mystic told me to go, she had adopted me since I arrived; she agreed to pay for my tuition before she died. Little did I know, she had a lot more for me than tuition money.
I traveled by bus from Salt Lake City, 4 hours to the desired destination. The company was making their last appearances around the state before leaving for Nevada and onto California.
I waved goodbye at the county line, they hugged each other as I withdrew from their lives for a good while. I smiled through my teeth and blubbering.
Another journey in our paths. Another day beckoning upon our toes. We were left leaving each other in harmony and desperation.
Looking for a boy to befriend when you will only find a man to marry. Quoting the phrase in my tired mind. Arunia’s attempt to comfort my ideas of living alone. Does that mean all boys I convince to develop friendships with, are they then instructed to be my future spouse?
My farewells being stated. I entered the campus of Brigham Young University. They told me to watch out for the guys out there. Tricked them into thinking I’d be engaged within a week.
►
Across the corner of my new apartment, I witnessed parents rushing to help their graduated children unpack. My parents had not seen me in 5 years. It was better this way, I didn’t mean to make things harder for them. I simply just wanted to get away from them.
On the other side, my siblings in high remarks of disapproval with my disappearance; in particular Aubrie Ayn. The next oldest in line. She turned 18 soon. I noticed the gap made us stronger. Our siblings gave us our life schoolings.
Predictable, I learned to neglect to drink along with taking a drive. On my younger sister’s part, she received the warning to always stay near the homestead.
Malachi, the ever-clever teacher risen himself to principal after I turned 12. He took me into the woods, teaching me how to make fires and telling me ghost stories. I don’t think he realized I one day would grow into a woman.
My time with him was short and I cannot bother myself to think of how very little it was.
The memories came at me in a rush. My mind blank except for home. Drown in the temporal thoughts of those I did so well to bury and burn. They came at me, shots of lightning to the sandy shore. Crystallizing the material and making it fairly noticeable. Red, a barn filled with not animals but people. No sheep, but a priest. Not a single stray of hay, only old women and men nodding or saying Amen.
I sat around that old farmhouse, wondering if I would ever escape the torment of my small society. In childhood dreams it was all I ever wished about. Freedom. Independence. Those two things I craved more.
Rouse up in the morning of the bright sunlight, wondering why my placement is doing here. It is not nightmares that stray me from sleep. Mere thoughts of no escape, cause drifting from the rest and peace. Sighs emit, connecting visions of the sundial and turn to my pillow; what more can the core receive stuck in this rut; a deep hole with no passage ways of exit.
Plans I intend to keep. Look forward to the future, it’s what we have to stare onward to. Give your nod of approval in agreement. Late at night I do not ache to sleep or slumber, I wish to close my eyes and hallucinate of the possibilities welcoming me.
Snow falls outside my weary window, the wind breaks my outline of expectations. Outside mortality awaits my sleepy toes, a journey just beginning. Times are hesitant to change and bones are breaking, winters are colder and the nights grow longer.
The imagination of my dreams no longer lingers on the borderline of my dozing consciousness, nay I say; they are free and vivid living. They jump on my walls and hop on the fence; I smile at their childish games, hoping one day soon I may be able to play too.
Time spent wondering what they want, why they have come out of hiding to amuse me and mingle with the narcotic temperature. Letting my thoughts rush over, I am asleep once again, no room for breathing. Trees crackle at my doorstep, as nature’s animals take their course. They plead with me, oh darling they say, “Wake up today and come out and play.”
If for one moment, if for one hour, I may take the course and follow their foot prints. I will absorb how to sprint unrestricted.
Đ
The Circus in Me Page 2