I always wanted something interesting in my life to happen. Maybe I'd secretly be amazing at a sport and drafted into the major leagues, or maybe I'd get a full scholarship somewhere, or maybe I'd find the love of my life and travel the world before we turned thirty. Of course-- it had to be me. It had to be me that craved something new in the shallow town I lived in. I got what I wanted, but every wish comes at a price. She gave me the excitement I wanted, but at the price of her life.
It couldn't be it.
I told myself that it couldn't be it. This can't be what I've been waiting all my life for. I have to find something deeper in this life.
I live in a town where there is nothing. I mean, there's something, but nothing. I look around and see nothing, but a quiet town where everyone is doing what they do best: live. No more, no less. Grow up, get married at thirty, have kids, and live out your life in the same town for eighteen years or more. What's beyond here? I don't know, but there has to be something more than a flat screen, more than a town in a book.
I picked up my favorite book-- A Light in the Attic. I read the book for a while- probably somewhere around an hour and I turned to a page that I had dog-eared. The poem Never popped up. I read it through:
I've never roped a Brahma bull,
I've never fought a duel...
I've never gone down with my ship
Into the bubblin' brine...
I've never had my picture on
A six-cent postage stamp...
Sometimes I get so depressed
'Bout what I haven't done.
I flipped once more to another dog-eared page and the last few lines were highlighted:
But this bridge will only take you halfway there--
The last few steps you'll have to take alone.
I shut the book and stared at the blue cover. I set the book down on my bed and pulled my history book out, flipping to the nearest map. I opened up my computer and pulled out a red marker, circling several places on the map and printing out a few things.I ran down the stairs as quietly as possible, pulling the pages from the printer and shuffling back upstairs. A glint of blonde appeared and I froze, turning slowly and holding up my finger to my lips as I shushed my little sister. She rubbed her eyes, rolled them, and closed the door. I got back to my room and closed the door as quietly as possible, looking at the list and tearing out Never and The Bridge from their bindings. I stuffed them inside my pillow case and checked my watch: 1:32 a.m. I laid in bed, hearing the soft crunch of the pages beneath my head and fell asleep, awaiting the depth in my life. If my lifeline represented the excitement in my life, I'd sure as hell be dead.
