Roads of the Northern Sky

The black of the evening sky slain by the new moons light reflected from the hidden sun of yesterday’s light and tomorrows to be. Beneath the valiant rays of dim night glow a young man lay gazing towards the countless display of mid summer’s stars. He lay restless in a chair of oak his hands clasped in a bond stronger than steel. He pondered through his countless thoughts of fear and bewilderment entangling in a shapeless mass of his mind.

           Who am I to become in this ever-changing land? The young man wondered, why is one to learn all one can only to remember what is required of one’s chosen task? We must learn what is necessary for our chosen path but what path is it for myself to follow? What duty am I to serve and what must I accomplish to proclaim that duty?

           “Why?” he asked to the empty night.

Why must one choose a path to follow before we can understand the choices we have and what each may accomplish. Why must we enter this changing land without complete knowledge of the hardships kept within its gracious shadow?

The night proceeded this endless stream of questions, not one to be answered for any one reason. The young man, after timeless hours, ultimately conformed to the spell of weekend sleep.

           The mornings light softly shone upon the young man’s face. Awakened from the battle of his subconscious mind the young man took stance against the coming day.

“The birth of new day brings that of a new division of my continued path and so I must proceed with uttermost caution,” the young man warned himself aloud. And so, without further comment, he braced himself against the smooth white painted wood rails of the porch. Admirably, Acacius gazed upon the house he so dearly held. The black, shingled roof and white siding so expertly crafted by his father several years prior, remained his prime example of perfection.

           He loosened his effortless grip upon the rail and made his way towards the hay barn to begin the days feeding of the horses. He did so with little mental presence of his wandering mind focused solely on the events of the developing day.

           The young man finished what remained of his chores hoping to complete all before his mother awoke in her sickened state. His last act was to gather the eggs from the hens before heading within the comforting walls of the picturesque home. Once he was inside he prepared the early morning meal for himself and his mother. Once the eggs and toast were cooked he set them at the table while preparing a bed tray.

           “Good morning, Acacius”, his mother sounded while limply walking along the wall with the faint glow of determination and care reflected in her scarcely open eyes.

           “Mother,” Acacius softly whispered. “I thought I asked you to remain in bed until I brought your breakfast.”

“Thought you may need some help preparing breakfast,” she replied simply. “But more so I need to talk to you about your application for The College of High Dawn,” she said.

“I…,” he started but could not express the words in means of speech. He questioned himself of what choice he must make. Either leave my mother to go spend a few years at school in an attempt to uncover what I shall become and risk losing her and my father’s farm or… He paused. Or stay behind and care for his mother and the farm that his father spent so many years to build before his tragic passing. His decision had come to an uneasy conclusion of which he now related to his mother. “I have chosen not to attend. After all I need to take care of you and the father’s farm.”

“What about your education and discovering what you are going to do after school?” You can’t stay out here forever. After all, a young man must explore what surrounds him to discover who he is,” she said softly, her frail voice a whisper in the wind. “If it is required I can watch the farm or even…”

“Don’t even think about it mother. We can’t just sell dad’s farm After all, he spent his whole life planning and building it. The least we can do is cherish it,” Acacius said with conviction.

His mother straightened her back and with a tone that could freeze even molten lead she said, “and who better to know his troubles than I who shared in them?”

“I’m sorry mother, but I still stand by my request that you please keep the farm,” he replied, closing the matter for the time. And so the two ate their breakfast in the silence of the room void of all presence but their own. The remaining hours of the morning were spent cleaning the house and the occasional collecting of the eggs. By noon the two had eaten and Acacius was preparing to head to work at the small mill just outside town when his mother approached to wish him a safe trip.

“I truly wish you would reconsider going to school. After all you’ll never know what career best suits yourself unless you engage in the various fields. Acacius’s mother quickly continued, “If you can find a job you love you’ll never work a day, a phrase your father used to love.” A tear ran down her cheek as she stared at the invisible images of moments long since passed.

“I appreciate your concern mother, but I have made my choice and I am to stand by it,” Acacius said expressionlessly. And without any further debate on the topic he bid his mother farewell and climbed into his light blue truck, its metal wheel well in the early stage of rusting. As he began to turn the key to start the truck he saw his mother seated in her chair by the front door, her caring eyes easily gazing at him as he prepared to leave.

 I made the right choice. After all if I leave who would be responsible for his mother’s health? He thought with immeasurable uncertainty. The choice is final. After all, High Dawn would no longer accept any applications after today. And with that he set to rest his greatest challenge he himself questioning his choice. As he slowly drove away his mother waited papers clutched within her hand as she waited calmly for reasons yet to be known.

Acacius’s day was simple. He stacked wood onto pallets for shipping off, but while he executed this task he reflected upon the wisdom of his choice and if he indeed had correctly decided. Have I made right of my choice to stay with my mother and the farm to forgo any chance of seeing what else there is for me? After mother recovers will I yet be capable of discovering my own path or will I forever follow the road I inflicted upon myself eternally regretting the choice I made?

All this doubt was away in a surge of despair and acceptance as he remorsefully gazed upon the clock hung on the opposite wall which read four o’clock. The choice is now mine to endure and all my fears will only prove to be truth or fiction.

He wondered how things could have transpired if not for his father’s death. Would I have been able to attend college or would something else have happened to create a similar outcome?

Dreadfully regretting his self-analysis he attempted to restrain his thought to more manageable topics. He began by thinking of the pride his father upheld for Acacius after his graduation, but that lead him to the memory of his father’s resent passing. Not 3 days succeeding his graduation his father fell under the fatal grasp of a heart attack.

The memory he quickly decided was far more unpleasant than his prior thoughts. After extensive effort Acacius was eventually able to encase all his fears, regrets, and all memories of his father’s passing. It was best to remember who he was, not to dwell on anything but. This effort gave him shallow peace that was yet sufficient but calming never less.

The day’s work complete, he collected his belongings and prepared to head homewards. The sky was yet still bright as he entered his truck the door hot from the hot rays of late summer. He gazed aimlessly around the emptying parking lot as he started the truck and prepared himself for all that’s to come in the approaching years of his life.

The silence of the drive was interrupted only by the sound of the engine as it pushed onwards. Acacius stared blankly around the familiar grounds of which he past studying the numerous turns for his own. A couple hundred meters ahead he saw the driveway of his beloved home and awaiting his arrival was his mother seated on the porch swing, a slight smile pressed on her weekend lips.

“Welcome home Acacius,” his mother said softly.

“Thank you mother,” Acacius calmly stated as he made his way inside to store his work supplies.

“Acacius, wait. I need to talk to you about your application,” his mother informed. He thought simply to tell her the deadline had since passed but thought better of it. “I know how much you wish to continue caring for me and the farm but I don’t wish for that to interfere with your education.” She paused briefly in preparation, “So last week I went into town and sent your application to High Dawn and yesterday a reply arrived.”

A feeling overcame Acacius that he could not identify except for that it was a synthesis of sadness, betrayal, joy, fear and doubt but predominantly relief. However, he still could not believe his mother would violate his wishes. “Mother, why did you do this?” Before he could continue his mother cut in with a familiar tone he had heard in his early years of youth.

“If I did as you wished, exactly where would you stand?” his mother began. “I seemed to recall teaching you that you must not live the life of another but to live by what you want not to live by the wishes or make belief needs of others.” She pointed with the fury only a mother could produce.

Acacius sighed in realization, accepting what his mother had showed in wonder why this choice seemed so far and forbidden only to remember his reasons once more. “What are you going to do about yourself and the farm?” he replied.

“I plan to sell the farm and move into town. After I recover perhaps even start teaching again,” she said as she softly smiled. “Worry not about myself and focusses upon your own future. Carve your own path, not that made by others, and explore the world with eyes of your own,” she calmly finished.

Acacius realized with one final realization what it was not fear of him not being their when his mother needed him most but fear of losing her respect and love a fear which now proved false. His acceptance came to final form with no more but a few spoken words.

“Thank you mother” Acacius said with relief.

The last of the summer days slipped away and know stood Acacius atlas ready to face the world ahead and the surprise it shall bring and with that final note he made his way to the train books in hand and bags in tow. Onwards he went to carve a path of his own.