My father was advantageous, in retrospect to myself and my mother. He was capable of navigating from point A to point B, through a multitude of routes. Every car trip ensued, he took a route varying to the last. As a young child, this constant change made me uncomfortable. My mind could not understand these interchangeable courses. How do all these roads lead to the same place? The manipulation of his mental map was easier to control than a GPS, he had told me. His map of the world was inscribed in his mind, only to reveal glimpses each time I sat in the backseat of his vehicle. I wished to hold such power, to navigate my way through life, with only a mere scan of a map. I clung to familiarity, while he was able to stray far from it, tangling himself in remnants of his last travel, only stopping to unknowingly brag about his experiences. I crave, continuously envious, of his skills that were not included in the genes he passed along to me; an inexperienced, curious woman, afraid of taking the wheel, and steering through my own path.
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Short Stories
Short StoryAlmost 200 short stories to get your blood pumping, your skin crawling and your mind racing. Nostalgic, interesting, current, real-life experiences in a creative form. *disclaimer: some of these short pieces reference issues such as mental illness...
