Scattered Dreams & Dragonflies

Our home and the sapling

A night plagued with uncertainty, a man with a heavy heart and disappointment, a boy with reckless and vengeful abandonment, a kind innocent soul now departed, and a note with a designated location. The pieces were all set in motion, and as such, the board was ready for its final act.

A boy filled with hatred walked a fine line, a straight path towards certain demise. The outcome, in his mind, was uncertain; he could only see as far as his short-sighted emotions allowed. To the beat of a tightened chest and a strong, accelerated pulse, the boy found himself tailing a man he still did not know, a character estranged to his eyes and memory. Still, like a familiar song, the wretched actions of the man towered over him, like a thunderstorm-stricken cloud, causing havoc on his knowledge and better sense of judgment. The boy avoided any and everything that could help him in this encounter, leaving behind everything that could remotely even the playing field or give him the advantage.

The element of surprise, thrown out the window like worthless trash. The weapons that could be available at his disposal, in his eyes, as useless as a piece of dried paper. Sanctuary from other men, to serve as support and strength in numbers, more like a crutch to his rage-plagued mind. With nothing but a piece of "sharpened wood," the boy walked towards the location.

Locked into the coordinates engraved in his mind, he moved. As he got close, an air of familiarity engulfed him. He knew where he was, and as he approached, he remembered the times he had passed in this disclosed space. Then and there, recently old, mundane, meaningless memories that filled up his mind came crashing down as he walked, contemplating the suburban house he found himself standing in front of. Now, these thoughts carried little weight—learning to ride a bike, the happy birthday song as it was sung around the family table, the many times mowing the lawn, playing hide and seek with friends... his friend and all that accompanied him came to his memory and stayed for a good amount of time, as he stared at the barely lit home before his very eyes.

This house, unlike the others, even in the dark of night, even amongst the humidity in the air and the remnants of rain-filled puddles all around, stood elegantly and proudly. Just a small cog in an all-too-big ecosystem, comprised of many moving parts in a community, such was the building he found himself in front of. That was...

"Welcome back."

—His home.

The boy had opened the door, leading to the kitchen, as he had done many times before. Nothing but a small lamp across the room was lit. Underneath it, the half-visible silhouette of a man sat comfortably. In his hand, a barely filled glass of whisky sat neatly, as the man moved it subtly, awaiting his arrival.

"You're late," the man said, continuing to move the delicate glass as the remains of the drink shifted to the rhythm of his hand's movement.

"... I was worried," he said again, hiding his face amongst the shadows.

His voice, now twice received with silence, eventually decided it was his turn to speak.

"Why," the boy said with a dry voice, as he looked in the direction of the man.

The man, hearing the boy, stood in silence as well, reciprocating the coldness the boy had shown initially.

"Why did you do it..." the boy said again, this time with palpable frustration starting to show.

His emotions were surging, and even if in familiar territory, he knew the real reason he was there, and who this man actually was, and not who he believed him to be all these years.

"Is there a real reason?.." the man said, shaking the glass one last time. Staring deeply into it for a brief moment, he proceeded to put it next to a small table on his side. "To do anything in this life?"