Memories

How does one describe the feelings centered around leaving home? Should I call the knot in my throat anxiety? Is the bitter taste in my mouth fear? Does the pause in my step stem from uncertainty? I have yet to untangle the three. It seems that when one shows up the other two arrive unannounced as is there motive. As I walk down the street in my very small world a glint of sun of a car window catches my attention. As I look at the car my eyes drift toward the playground near it and suddenly I'm hit with a memory.

I'm six, scrawny, proportions uneven, and a weird streak a mile wide. As I play in the sandbox, which thankfully is as far away from the other kids as I can get without leaving the playground, sand sticks to my knees, hands, clothes, and hair from where I moved a piece. As I'm finishing the final touches on my 4 hour devotion to art I feel the breeze of a ball miss me by a few centimeters. Startled I shuffle back against the sand box border as I can get, as I rapidly look around until my eyes settle on a Auburn haired boy with an expression of horror. He shakes himself off as if in a fog and hogs towards me. Every step makes my chest twist and my throat refuses to make a sound. Step. Blood in my ears. Step. Help. Step. What do I do?. Step. Should I smile? Ste- he's already in front of me as I bring my self back from my thoughts. The first thing I notice about him is the smile. He looks like he's trying to break his face. The second and third are his hair and eyes, I've never seen such a dark shade of red in someone's hair and I've certainly never see it paired with cobalt eyes. "so I'm sorry again about the ball and your sand castle." I barely hear as he talks a mile a minute. As my brain starts to catch up I remember he mentioned my sand castle. This causes me to look over and as I do I see everything I worked on is completely destroyed with the ball in the middle of the destruction. As I feel the rage and wrath curl around my bones like old friends, I stand up with a dark look on my face. I can't physically hurt him but I CAN hurt him in other ways. The next fifteen minutes pass by as I scream at the brat who ruined everything. Eventually I run out of breath I sit down in the sand. I don't know how long I sit there legs crossed and hands trembling. Suddenly I feel a warmth against my side I snap my head up and see the kids still there. Why hasn't he run away yet? Is he crazy? Is this some sort of joke? As these thoughts run through my head he turns his head and looks at me with a smile and reaches his hand out for me to shake and tells me his name is Ashton. As I ponder why he would talk to freak like me I realize he's still holding his hand out. I hesitate but slip my hand into his and say one word, "Blue."

My feet drag against the sidewalk as I pass by the only doctors office in town and remember how often I spent my time there.

The first time I went there was when I was four and had a temper tantrum and broke three fingers from smashing them against the floor. The next memorable time was when I was six, by this time the nurses and doctor knew me well from my self destructive temper. That was the day I was diagnosed with IED otherwise known as intermittent explosive disorder. This specific disorder cause fits of rage that exceed the situation. I didn't quite understand what that meant for me then. I didn't know I was going to have to live with it for the rest of my life, that I would have no friends because they were scared of my temper, that I was going to suffer from bouts of rage constantly. Though I suppose I can't say I didn't have any friends. I have you after all. 

I'm surprised I made it this far I think as I pass the school. I always had trouble in school not that I wasn't smart but that I was impatient and volatile. Just yesterday I graduated from this phase of my life. Until now I always had a structure and a general certainty of tommorow. Now I have none of that. Though I can't say I'll miss that building. Not many good memories there. Bloody knuckles, dented locker's, anxiety attacks in the bathroom stalls, trips to the nurse's office every other day. Even though there weren't many good memories there were a few. Like just a month ago you dragged me to prom. I was never one for large social gatherings though I will admit I enjoyed being with you. 

The sun's starting to set so I start heading home. I speed walk my way towards my safe place, the place I grew up, and the place I will soon be leaving. I can't help but think of the acceptance letter sitting on my bed. I'm not sure if I'm happy but I am proud. I worked for this, despite my IED I did it, I graduated with a 4.0 GPA and no school record. As I'm within throwing distance I spot you sitting on my porch with that same stupid smile that hasn't gone away over the years on your face. I sit next to him with our shoulders pressed together. After a few long moments I finally cave and ask him why he's smiling. And he just hands me an envelope. I spot the name on the front and look towards him with wide eyes. "I got in!" He says, "I told you that you wouldn't get rid of me that easily!" I'm speechless and my vision goes blurry as I look away quickly with a smile forcing it's way across face. It seems that I'll have another good memory to look back at in the future.