Looking Back

He knew he would never live a life of norms. There would be no Indian summer days, searching for tadpoles in the creek. No secret handshakes would be exchanged between grade school friends. There would be no grade school friends to speak of. The sun would not shine down on him through puff pastry clouds, warming his naked toes as the cares of youth wisped by him. No. There would be no glass-front curios, lined with little league trophies. No tiny gilded figurines trapped in gold foil poses; sliding into home bass or making the game winning touchdown. There would be no junior high school sleep-overs or trips to CAL Skate on Friday nights with the church youth group. There would be no church. There would be no picket fences to line a perimeter around the house where love lived. No ethereal willow trees to hang a swing from or cut a switch. No father-son picnics down at Lake Perris with the cub scouts. No gooey smores and leaky river rafts or children’s voices. There would be no ‘experimenting’ with the pretty girls that offered candy lip-glossed kisses. There would be no girlfriend. There would be no pregnancy scares or discussions about ‘when the time would be right’. The time would never be right. There would be no high school activities to fill his afternoons and weekends. No Prom to reminisce about in years to follow. No memory of accomplishment to trigger a smile. No Graduation photos of esteem held high, in his mother’s eyes. There would be no bed to usher in sweet dreams or moments of calm. There would be no moment of rest for him. No moment of rest.