alexeson knox | D4 | 7th Retro | FIN

I was not a smart boy by any stretch of the imagination. At least, not in the classical sense. I remember growing up and trying to focus on tasks that my mother would create for me at home to test my motor skills and failing them pretty much outright.

Its always hard to think about the look on my moms face when she realized that she very well could have been raising someone who might not know the difference between his elbow and his ass cheek.

I don’t know if I had ever grown out of it. But I did know that I did learn how to survive on the streets of four. It might not be what she expected, but she didn’t last long enough to watch me completely grow into the adult I am now. Even though I was shoved into it without a parachute.

I fell face first for the longest time.

Sixteen and trying to run a business? That was practically unheard of. However, my father passing away on a late night boat accident where everyone knew that he probably had one too many sea shandy’s was enough to catapult every last bit of fear related onto my unexpected shoulders.

Sometimes I miss the days where we used to lay out on the sand. My mom always was fond of the water, and we were fortunate enough to own some hard to find water equipment. Even when the water wasn’t kind, she was never afraid of it. Watching her fearlessness is what spurned my own. I just know it. Those quiet moments of watching her pull seaweed out of her already lacquered locks was enough to settle my tears as I watched her engulfed by the water.

She always had a smile on her face, and always faced challenges head on.

I would always be envious of that.

Maybe one day I would find the courage to set sail on the seas just like my mother used too. Before the war, she told me stories about just how free she could be on the waters that bordered our own coastal town. She was always interested in exploring, and even now, people tell me that nothing would have kept her in one place. Sure, she had me, but that didn’t mean that she was always there.

She’d always bring back things from her travels, and I of course, never knew if that meant she was discovering or taking. Both of them sounded like something that would be punishable now a days. I wondered what she would be like now. Would she settle down because I was the only family she had left? Or would she still be out there? Trying to find every last bit of treasure, even if it got her killed?

I knew that answer, and it tasted just as awful as the realization that I had to swallow. She had been missing for years, but no one ever thought she was dead. Maybe she was caught by the capitol once the restrictions on travel had been put in place. Maybe she suffered the same fate as my father.

They might have left whatever was left of their world, but to me, they were my world.

Wherever she is, I hope she is resting.

Or happy.

Or thinking about me.

Or alive.