Mitchell College - Thames Log Yearbook (New London, CT)

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THE ONLY REALITY The wind whipped over, under and beTween The summer and a mind ThaT lived long ago, caus- ing a proiecTion and creaTion oT iTseIT in Those people who died suddenly, leaving me in my Tor- mer sTaTe. I remember TirsT The sTuTTy apaTheTic naTure oT The day ThaT led me on my journey away Trom ciTy IiTe, crowded minds, and a husTIed and conTused Iove exisTing in my naTuraI guardians. I was seven. A boy oT seven deserved a summer in VermonT's counTry To crack The co- coon, To sTreTch a mind and body. I kissed her powder-caked cheek, TeIT The aggressive blow oT his hand againsT my back, and I was gone. On The Train I waTched. I saw The perTumed lady slapping and seTTing up her kids, buf I didn'T wonder why. The man nexT To me was TaT, grubby, and had a sTench. There was only a brieT peri- od oT Time beTore he enTered inTo a snoring sleep. I-Ie didn'T boTher me, he provided consisTen- cy. BeneaTh The window on my IeTT were various names engraved iaggedly as if done in a hurry wiTh a dried ouT pen. lmpulsively. I Took ouT a broken pencil Trom my pockeT and prinTed my name. ChrisTopher. righT under some guy named F - - -. As The aTmosphere subdued along wiTh The sunlighT, rows and rows oT over-populaTed sTreeTs and houses became only a memory. I driTT- ed ouT over The darkened hills as if in search Tor someThing which lived in Their disTance. IT was a noveITy' To be more Than iusT alone. WhaTever had been myseIT suddenly evaporaTed, leaving only a shell, by oThers To be seen. The TaT man sTiII snored. Papa was aT The sTaTion waiTing when I sTepped oTT The Train aT BurIingTon. His unTaiIored ap- parel and Tloppy brimmed haT made my iniTiaI impression oT him a simple, sooThing one. I'Ie greeTed me brieTIy, buT wiTh open arms. STanding behind him anxiously were Two children, simi- lar To me in age. I TeIT as if I had meT Them beTore, as if in anoTher disTanT place or dream. Their eyes peneTraTed mine. I said noThing, waiTing Tor a Tormal inTroducTion by Papa. InsTead I was hurried onTo my g'randTaTher's ieep wiTh no TurTher iniTiaTion. The ride To The Tarm was long and calm. Papa sang an oTT-piTched Tune oT some sorT. I IisTened, Thinking oT The summer To come wiTh a sTrange curiosiTy and conTenTmenT. EvenTuaIIy, I Tell To sleep in The comTorT oT The cool breeze and humming oT Papa. I awoke early The nexT morning wiTh The sun's peeping Through The window oT a large quainT

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4 o i Reverie vs. Class NoTes PeTer The C5reaT reigned Trom I622 To She iusT crossed Those legs . . . l735. Russia aT This Time was poliTically poor and IT l don'T change my seaT l'm gonna loe . .. miliTarily wealc. The sun is shining on her hair now And who The hell is Louis XIV? PeTer Toolc greaT sTeps To reTorm The OrTho- Qrosenberg dox Church. sTeps Church Her wriTing, her hands are unique Alexander l iusT popped in And delicaTe addicTing . . . T703 PeTer conqueredsornebody l've losT all conTrol And now PeTer's dead.

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room. I was snug in fhe ornafe comforf of a lumpy double bed and old pafch-work quilf. There was nofhing fo disfurb me. No horns blew madly. No noisy moufhs pierced my ears and ordered my day. All I knew was peace, and all I saw was freedom and space. And so I expanded. I afe an unusual breakfasf of cornmeal and venison prepared by Papa, and fhen wifh a genfle paf on fhe rear, was senf off fo survey fhe farm for myself. When I sfepped onfo fhefronf porch, fhe same fwo children I had seen af my arrival were siffing on fhe sfeps as if waifing for my company. I I , ' I'Iello. My name is Chrisfopherf' I said wifh confidence. I-Ii, guy. l'm Kip and fhaf's my sisfer, Cara. Cara is sweef on you, buf she's nof mushy like mosf girls, so don'f fref. A - Y I You musf live around here, I said wifh amazemenfaf his unique ease of expression. Yep, he said, we live iusf over fhaf hill. We came over fo see if you wanfed fo play or somefhingf' y , Sure, I replied. Can you show me around? , I Come on, come on, slow poke. Kip shoufed as he and Cara darfed across fhe cornfield.. Before I knew ifl was flying loverfhe fields and, hills af fhe same pace as my new friends. We covered miles of woods fhaf day. Kip and Cara showed me all fhe pafhs. We climbed- close fo fhe fop of an old maple free and saf in confemplafion fhere. Before long,iI felf as nafural wifh fhem as wifh myself. Kip was oufspoken, and funny. Cara was quief, happy and pleasanf. I was somewhere in befween. Everyfhing fif. We ended 'our affernoon wifh a quick skinny dip in a nearby pond. Wifh a splash fhey were gone and I was on my way back fo Papa and supper. When I refurned, Papa said, Well, Sonny, looks like you've accusfomed yourself wifh fhis here counfry. Whaf do ya fhink, my boy? I Before I could fhink or organize my fhoughfs I heard myself pleading, I never wanf fo leave Papa. Never. Please don'f make me Ieave.'PIease, Papa.'g' Papa iiusf smiled and scrafched my head. Supper was fanfasfic. I y I , The days fhaf followed were enficing and revealing. They seemed fo follow a sfeady paffern which I learned fo love and fhrive upon. I was awakened af dawn each morning. Affer breakfasf I would help Papa wifh fhe chores: The affernoons were all mine, mine fo laugh and play and learn fhrough fhe hills and Kip and Cara. The affernoons became my reason for living, and every