We talk about that night about many things, like god's love, and the places we want to see but probably never will. We share stories and secrets. But after i tell my story I feel afraid that i see a little of his innocence fade away. He apologizes for a lack of words only saying that he's never heard something like that. We talk of a place of dreams. A place he calls Santa Monica. By the way he describes it; I half don't believe it's real..A year long paradise, an ocean, and a sunset that could change lives. He says it's in California, and we make promises to go there.
The next couple days are hard. From the moment we wake up he won't sleep for 27 hours, and i will stay awake with him. No one is at his house the next afternoon and he worries for his little brother who is hopefully with his mother ,and so begins our 27 hour wake. We make trips to Wal-mart, to buy supplies to get through. Coffee, we buy alot of coffee. That night through the next day we play games, watch movies, and drink coffee. Anything to keep him busy till the 27th hour when he falls fast asleep leaning against the coffee table.
He is innocent.
His family returns a couple days later, and from then on we watch his brother a lot. Three more years. He had come a long way from the boy I met walking the streets. I was right...he didn't last long. But he still lives on. Because of his dreams, they have become my dreams. i will keep my promise. I will see our Santa Monica. I will watch the sunset that changes lives
Years pass and i find myself far from that night, those summers where everything hung on the weather. I am not a tragedy. My life wasn't always so dramatic. I had a semi-normal childhood, everything that happened to me was my own doing. Everyone had ideas about my downward spiral, of what could cause my fall from grace. I hadn't the heart to tell all of them they were wrong, that it wasn't the bad crowd, or habits that pulled them down. It wasn't what people had told me, it wasn't that i didn't go to church every sunday. It was me all along it was me.
The next couple days are hard. From the moment we wake up he won't sleep for 27 hours, and i will stay awake with him. No one is at his house the next afternoon and he worries for his little brother who is hopefully with his mother ,and so begins our 27 hour wake. We make trips to Wal-mart, to buy supplies to get through. Coffee, we buy alot of coffee. That night through the next day we play games, watch movies, and drink coffee. Anything to keep him busy till the 27th hour when he falls fast asleep leaning against the coffee table.
He is innocent.
His family returns a couple days later, and from then on we watch his brother a lot. Three more years. He had come a long way from the boy I met walking the streets. I was right...he didn't last long. But he still lives on. Because of his dreams, they have become my dreams. i will keep my promise. I will see our Santa Monica. I will watch the sunset that changes lives
Years pass and i find myself far from that night, those summers where everything hung on the weather. I am not a tragedy. My life wasn't always so dramatic. I had a semi-normal childhood, everything that happened to me was my own doing. Everyone had ideas about my downward spiral, of what could cause my fall from grace. I hadn't the heart to tell all of them they were wrong, that it wasn't the bad crowd, or habits that pulled them down. It wasn't what people had told me, it wasn't that i didn't go to church every sunday. It was me all along it was me.
