Status: Finished. Leave me love? :)
Heaven
1
At six years old, the little boy’s idea of Heaven was baseball caps and lemonade, fishing on Saturday mornings with his father and red toy trucks that made noise. He had nothing more to live for than his mother’s hugs and endless love and weekend baseball games with his father were all that mattered. He thought girls had cooties and one summer morning he became blood brothers with his best friend. When he did something wrong, he apologized and everything was okay. His mother and father were in love and all was right in the world.
At ten years old, the little boy’s idea of Heaven was still baseball caps and lemonade. He was beginning to grow tired of fishing on Saturday mornings with his father but he went to make his parents happy. He still had nothing more to live for than his mother’s hugs and endless love and weekend baseball games with his friends were all that mattered. He began to notice the girl from down the street and on a sunny spring afternoon he asked, "Will you be my girlfriend?" to which she smiled and replied, "Yes." His best friend was still his best friend. When he did something wrong, he apologized and that always made it better. His parents fought sometimes but they were still in love and they loved him and all was right in the world.
At thirteen years old, the boy’s idea of Heaven was no longer being a little boy. He still wore baseball caps but no longer drank lemonade, because he realized that it was more sour than he’d originally thought. He and his father no longer got along so they never went fishing or to baseball games on Saturday mornings. He still loved his mother’s hugs and was grateful for her endless love. He and the girl down the street broke up for one week, but he apologized because he did something wrong and it was all okay. He saw his best friend less often but when he did, he always made the most of things because he knew that a best friend was a terrible thing to let go of. His parents were divorced and no longer in love but they loved him and it seemed as if all was right in the world.
At sixteen years old, the boy’s idea of Heaven was freedom. He had grown his hair out so he no longer wore baseball caps and he found that alcohol was sweeter than lemonade. He never saw his father and he never wanted to. He tried out for his school’s baseball team and didn’t make it, even after all that practice, so he went out for football instead. One summer night he got the girl from down the street drunk and on her back and she cried and whispered no the entire time. He knew the next morning that he had done something wrong so he apologized, but somehow everything did not seem okay. That year his best friend wrapped his lips around a gun, leaving only a note that read I’m sorry, but the barrel asked me for a kiss and I had no choice but to oblige. His mother and father were no longer in love, but he and the girl from down the street were. Yet somehow things were a little less right in the world.
At seventeen years old, the boy’s idea of Heaven was escape. He’d cut his hair and his mother signed for him to join the army because he was such a disappointment to her that she couldn’t bear to have him around. He came back home weeks later. When he returned, he found that the only things sweeter than alcohol and lemonade were drugs and that the needle in his arm was just the escape he thought he needed. He’d forgotten the color of his father’s eyes and remembered only the way that his hands felt as he showed him the correct way to cast a rod. He was the star of the football team and everyone loved him, yet he continued to feel like he was all alone. One summer night the girl from down the street placed his hand across her stomach and he felt a kick. He broke up with her the next week and walked away as she cried. He whispered an apology but it did not make everything okay. He missed his best friend more than anything and tried his hardest to pretend he was still there. It was harder than he thought. His mother and father had fallen out of love so many years ago and now so had he and the girl from down the street and nothing was right in the world.
At eighteen years old, the boy was certain that there was no such thing as Heaven. But he did believe in Hell. He knew that he was living it. He’d moved out of his mother’s house and was living on his own in a squalid one bedroom apartment housed in the corner of town that was considered to be below the poverty line. The boy was still looking for an escape and so he would dream. He would dream of his parents and what they must be doing. He hoped more than anything that his mother was happy and that maybe, just maybe, she’d found love again. He dreamed of his little girl and prayed that she had her mother’s everything because the girl from down the street who he’d once loved had grown up to be a very beautiful, very strong woman. He dreamed of leaving. He imagined leaving that small, one horse town in which he’d been trapped since birth. He longed for the shelter of lemonade and warm hugs and red toy trucks that made noise. But there was always something that would bring him out of his dreams and that was his certainty that there was no such thing as heaven. And if there was, he would never get to see it. He believed that if there was a god, He’d forgotten him. Because only the most beautiful and wonderful people make it to Heaven, or so he’d been taught.
Every now and then he would stop to look around himself and on one dark winter night, wrapped in a scraggly blanket and staring up at the ceiling, he came to the sudden realization that the world is a horrible place. And within it, nothing is ever “alright”.
At ten years old, the little boy’s idea of Heaven was still baseball caps and lemonade. He was beginning to grow tired of fishing on Saturday mornings with his father but he went to make his parents happy. He still had nothing more to live for than his mother’s hugs and endless love and weekend baseball games with his friends were all that mattered. He began to notice the girl from down the street and on a sunny spring afternoon he asked, "Will you be my girlfriend?" to which she smiled and replied, "Yes." His best friend was still his best friend. When he did something wrong, he apologized and that always made it better. His parents fought sometimes but they were still in love and they loved him and all was right in the world.
At thirteen years old, the boy’s idea of Heaven was no longer being a little boy. He still wore baseball caps but no longer drank lemonade, because he realized that it was more sour than he’d originally thought. He and his father no longer got along so they never went fishing or to baseball games on Saturday mornings. He still loved his mother’s hugs and was grateful for her endless love. He and the girl down the street broke up for one week, but he apologized because he did something wrong and it was all okay. He saw his best friend less often but when he did, he always made the most of things because he knew that a best friend was a terrible thing to let go of. His parents were divorced and no longer in love but they loved him and it seemed as if all was right in the world.
At sixteen years old, the boy’s idea of Heaven was freedom. He had grown his hair out so he no longer wore baseball caps and he found that alcohol was sweeter than lemonade. He never saw his father and he never wanted to. He tried out for his school’s baseball team and didn’t make it, even after all that practice, so he went out for football instead. One summer night he got the girl from down the street drunk and on her back and she cried and whispered no the entire time. He knew the next morning that he had done something wrong so he apologized, but somehow everything did not seem okay. That year his best friend wrapped his lips around a gun, leaving only a note that read I’m sorry, but the barrel asked me for a kiss and I had no choice but to oblige. His mother and father were no longer in love, but he and the girl from down the street were. Yet somehow things were a little less right in the world.
At seventeen years old, the boy’s idea of Heaven was escape. He’d cut his hair and his mother signed for him to join the army because he was such a disappointment to her that she couldn’t bear to have him around. He came back home weeks later. When he returned, he found that the only things sweeter than alcohol and lemonade were drugs and that the needle in his arm was just the escape he thought he needed. He’d forgotten the color of his father’s eyes and remembered only the way that his hands felt as he showed him the correct way to cast a rod. He was the star of the football team and everyone loved him, yet he continued to feel like he was all alone. One summer night the girl from down the street placed his hand across her stomach and he felt a kick. He broke up with her the next week and walked away as she cried. He whispered an apology but it did not make everything okay. He missed his best friend more than anything and tried his hardest to pretend he was still there. It was harder than he thought. His mother and father had fallen out of love so many years ago and now so had he and the girl from down the street and nothing was right in the world.
At eighteen years old, the boy was certain that there was no such thing as Heaven. But he did believe in Hell. He knew that he was living it. He’d moved out of his mother’s house and was living on his own in a squalid one bedroom apartment housed in the corner of town that was considered to be below the poverty line. The boy was still looking for an escape and so he would dream. He would dream of his parents and what they must be doing. He hoped more than anything that his mother was happy and that maybe, just maybe, she’d found love again. He dreamed of his little girl and prayed that she had her mother’s everything because the girl from down the street who he’d once loved had grown up to be a very beautiful, very strong woman. He dreamed of leaving. He imagined leaving that small, one horse town in which he’d been trapped since birth. He longed for the shelter of lemonade and warm hugs and red toy trucks that made noise. But there was always something that would bring him out of his dreams and that was his certainty that there was no such thing as heaven. And if there was, he would never get to see it. He believed that if there was a god, He’d forgotten him. Because only the most beautiful and wonderful people make it to Heaven, or so he’d been taught.
Every now and then he would stop to look around himself and on one dark winter night, wrapped in a scraggly blanket and staring up at the ceiling, he came to the sudden realization that the world is a horrible place. And within it, nothing is ever “alright”.
♠ ♠ ♠
What do you think? :)