Tidbits of Life.
A Small Red Truck
My name is Mark and I have it all.
It probably started when I was about 5...my mom was in her yellow sundress. I remember it flowing about well. We were at a shop and there was a small red truck. I tugged on the intricate weaves around the base of her dress.
"Mom, truck."
She looked at me, looked at the truck, and looked back to my small round face.
"Honey, we can't afford that truck."
"MOM, TRUCK!" I slapped her thigh as hard as I could.
"Fine, fine. The truck, please." she said to the cashier.
I was smug. I was content. I had gotten what I wanted and that had been all that mattered. It all went uphill from there. Anything I wanted, I got. Mom worshiped me. She knew how happy I was once I got what I wanted.
I grew up, little by little. As a 16-year-old boy, there were a LOT of things I wanted. Some of these things, however, I couldn't possibly ask for.
****************************************************************************************************
Her tight jeans slipped off so easily. And that tube top pulled right over her head. It was the best thing in the world. All I ever wanted, then.
Weeks later, the girl, whose name I cannot fathom, was sick frequently. I simply asked why, only out of consideration.
What she mouthed to me was too much for a 16-year-old brain.
She didn't want it. I didn't want it. We did what we did.
****************************************************************************************************
15 years later, I own my own business. Advertising, that's what I'm in. I have so much money that I could burn half my savings and still be rich. I have a woman, a wife, and our life is seemingly perfect.
I have it all. Thought I had it all.
I don't have it all.
I don't have the baby that was aborted when I was age 16. I can only imagine what the child would say to me now.
-Mark
It probably started when I was about 5...my mom was in her yellow sundress. I remember it flowing about well. We were at a shop and there was a small red truck. I tugged on the intricate weaves around the base of her dress.
"Mom, truck."
She looked at me, looked at the truck, and looked back to my small round face.
"Honey, we can't afford that truck."
"MOM, TRUCK!" I slapped her thigh as hard as I could.
"Fine, fine. The truck, please." she said to the cashier.
I was smug. I was content. I had gotten what I wanted and that had been all that mattered. It all went uphill from there. Anything I wanted, I got. Mom worshiped me. She knew how happy I was once I got what I wanted.
I grew up, little by little. As a 16-year-old boy, there were a LOT of things I wanted. Some of these things, however, I couldn't possibly ask for.
****************************************************************************************************
Her tight jeans slipped off so easily. And that tube top pulled right over her head. It was the best thing in the world. All I ever wanted, then.
Weeks later, the girl, whose name I cannot fathom, was sick frequently. I simply asked why, only out of consideration.
What she mouthed to me was too much for a 16-year-old brain.
She didn't want it. I didn't want it. We did what we did.
****************************************************************************************************
15 years later, I own my own business. Advertising, that's what I'm in. I have so much money that I could burn half my savings and still be rich. I have a woman, a wife, and our life is seemingly perfect.
I have it all. Thought I had it all.
I don't have it all.
I don't have the baby that was aborted when I was age 16. I can only imagine what the child would say to me now.
-Mark