When the Stars Align

A New Moon 3

Jack

September 25, 2018

"I want you to come straight home from school, Jack," calls my mother as she drags a brush through her hair.

"I don't understand why I have to come straight home after school and Hannah doesn't." I protest with a shake of my head. "Unlike her, I actually go to the library after school to do my homework."

"Jack, please, I need someone home to sign off on my package. Just come home right after school," she pleads.

"Alright, mom, I'll be here."

It is not long before I am at school completing my daily rituals. The rest of the day went pretty quickly; nothing eventful took place. Just the same old memorization of information. At this stage in life, I cared more about a percentage than the information I was supposed to be "learning." However, I never really learned anything. It was stored in my brain like a file until I was tested on said information. After the test, the information became irrelevant, and the "file" was simply thrown in the trash. I am a walking example of Paulo Freire's Banking Concept of Education. A model used to describe the failing yet traditional ways of education. My entire educational career, I have received, filed, stored, and then trashed the deposits of "knowledge."

Leaving my last class, I dread the walk home. While Hannah goes to get her nails done, too selfish to move or reschedule her appointment, I am stuck at home being the dependable, responsible daughter. "Hey, Jack!" calls a recognizable tone. Turning my head, I see Daniel slowing down in his silver Ford F-150. "Hop in, I'll take you home," he offers with a smile that makes my heart flutter.

"You're way too pretty to be walking alone," he continues as I struggle to hop in the massive truck.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it." Pushing the unruly strands behind my ear, my eyes remain looking at my shoes. Daniel makes me nervous like a child being asked a question they don't know the answer to.

The rest of the car ride is pretty quiet. Just the faint sound of country music feels the air. Daniel puts the car in park and lowers the radio, pulling into my driveway. "So this is where the magic happens, huh?" He asks with a slight smirk.

"Yeah, but no magic will be happening tonight. I am unfortunately going to be stuck here all day today." I laugh, running my fingers through my hair.

"Well, if I didn't have to work, I would offer to stay."

"Yeah, no, it's okay. I should head inside anyhow. I want to get some homework done as soon as possible. See you tomorrow after school?"

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."

Getting out of the car, I head for the front door. There is a fine line between a house and a home. A house is four walls and a door. A home is a place where you lock everything you love inside and never have to question whether or not it will be there when you return. The paint could peel, and the glass could shatter. However, when there isn't a crack in the foundation, a home can survive anything. To me, a home isn't a place but a feeling, like when you see a set of perfect eyes or hear the incredible sound of a heartbeat. However, when catastrophe strikes in a split second, you can lose your home. You can lose yourself.

I remember the first day I laid eyes on the white exterior, the ruby red door, and the disciplined and mystical black numbers. However, the most significant piece of my memory was the clarity of the freshly painted rock my mother placed on the edge of our driveway. It symbolized a snowflake to winter's call, showing her pride in our home. However, behind the beauty was a dark beast in my home. My father John and mother Karen were married for twenty years before my dad tossed his life away. Alcohol and random women are more fun than a wife and two daughters.