The Good Past
He is new to me, and that scares me. I scared him. I worried him. I told him about my past. I told him what I’ve done. I told him what I’ve threatened to do, to others and to myself. My parents don’t like me talking about my past, the bad past. I’ve had a good past too.
Going to the park as a kid, shooting off model rockets with my dad, taking my old dog Cinder on a walk on the old beaten path nobody walked on anymore.
Going to the creek with my friend, staring at the graffiti drawn under the bridge, learning new words although not good ones.
Going to camp, meeting new people, old counselors. Going camping with my family, but real camping, cabin camping. The time my brother and I chased the distant fire and were forced back into reality as our bodies collided with the barbed wire fence, and we bled. Good thing we had already gotten Tetanus shots.
The time my friend and I were at the pond and a duck quacked and it scared the living daylights out of me and I fell into the pond out of shock. I hate ducks, in fact I hate all birds.
The time my old friend and I were at Quest -a place where parents would drop off their middle school aged kids while they went to work- on the track and I saw a goose in someone's yard, panicked, and ran away. Only I came back to discover that it was a plastic statue, and that I’d nearly peed myself in public for nothing.
The time my family spent on the cruise, and how my top came off on the Flow Rider. It wasn’t fun at the time, but it’s funny now. I have many moments like that, that are funny later on, but at the time, it’s not funny at all.
He is new to me, and that scares me. He is scared for me. He is worried for me. He knows about my past. He knows what I’ve done, and what I’ve threatened to do, to others and myself. He knows my parents don’t like me talking about my past, the bad past. He knows I have a good past too.
St. Charles, Missouri, United States