It was an autumn day about five in the evening when a stranger came to the bridge; this bridge was old nearly falling apart, but still held strong. The stranger found a young man lying lifelessly under the bridge face down in the dirt. This young man had no form of identification on his person, so the stranger checked to see if he had a pulse, which was slow… but there was hope. The stranger picked him up and fireman carried him away from the bridge.
Now you see before we can go on you must understand why Jason was lying under the bridge and the only way to do that would be to go back in the story at the beginning.
My name is Jason Patrick I grew up in a small town, a town that is found on no map and found on no internet website. The others of this town called it the “city with no name.” They’re where no street names as well. How could you find yourself in such a place? I thought to myself…
The day was gloomy and Jason was ten years old at the time. Kicking rocks across the dirt road, he was trying to lose himself, lost in his thoughts… From a far off he could see that his home was caught up in flames, scared and confused he ran home, his’ only neighbor was a mile off on the next dirt road.
When he made it home he’s discovery was greater than he expected, he found that there was nothing he could do, and terrified he began running as fast as he could to his neighbors’ home.
Now Susan was a very carrying and loving woman known threw out the town. She only stood 5’4 and probably weighed no more than one hundred and thirty pounds, her hair came down to her shoulders, she had dark brown hair that shined in the sun, and her eyes were green.
Susan was a widow her husband died during the Vietnam War he was a proud and well-decorated soldier; he was one to have the honor to hold the Purple Heart. She also had a daughter by the name of Jennifer; Jennifer had to be the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. She stood 5’0 even, with light brown hair, and some of the most beautiful eyes that were green and hazel, probably weighed only one hundred pounds.
I remember one day I caught her dancing in the sunflower fields; she looked like an angel, (heaven on earth). I remember the first time I looked into her eyes and the way she made me feel. I felt comfort, peace, and joy; all just mirror glimpses of what was not really there.
I met Jennifer one special day about noon the sun was bright and I was walking down the road when I came across her swinging on the tire swing that her dad made for her when he was still alive. She had on this sunflower dress and you could tell she was free (free in her mind that is), the way she moved in circles and carelessly, she was stunning and more gorgeous than the stars, more brilliant than the galaxies. The swing was tied to this tree, the only tree in her yard at the time, it was huge--- the leaves on it were yellow, but it wasn’t fall--- these leaves were always yellow. I came up to her and said, “Hi my name is Jason what’s yours?” she answered saying, “Hi my name is Jennifer how do you do?” since then we were instant friends…
When he arrived at Susan’s house he could hardly get the words out of his mouth, exhausted, all he could say was “my house…fire!!…Can’t stop it. I need to use your phone!!!” She stumbled around quickly to get to her emergency numbers to reach the fire department. She called and said, “Hurry the old Patrick home is up in flames!”
In no time flat the fire trucks with their blearing sirens, arrived. They fought and fought to save the house, but there was no use, it was gone. As soon as they got the fire under control and out, they went in to determine what ignited the flame when they went in, there discovery was completely unexpected.
There Jason Patrick’s Parents hanging from the front stairwell, they were gone, and it tore Jason apart and many questions filled their heads, questions like who could have done such a heinous crime? Are they local or are they out of Towner’s? “No it had to be a local--- no one ever comes here” they all said.
Susan took Jason in from that point on, she became a second mother to him and he loved her as such.
Jason she asked how do you feel about this whole situation? And I answered, “How am I suppose to feel? I have lost my parents, what do I have now?” And she said everything happens for a reason son… I suppose she’s right…what would I know? But I later felt a state of being alone, as if who could really relate to my circumstance, and me.
Susan had an extra room, the guest room; it was a chamber of a room… it only held a bed, a dresser and higher ceilings than I have been a custom to. The window looked out towards the back of the house which stood in the midst of the yard a weeping willow tree…yeah I know ironic huh? Susan left me alone for the rest of the night I guess maybe she thought I needed to mourn and cry, but perhaps to your amazement I couldn’t shed a tear, not because I didn’t try, but just that--- I couldn’t,… not that I didn’t love my parents, not because I wasn’t hurt by it because I was, but just---I just couldn’t.
I sat at the window staring out side at the weeping willow tree as the light from the moon glistened from the top of it. The only thing I could think of, the only image I could see in my mind was the flames from the house, I couldn’t believe it. Old memories of Bible stories from my mother began to fill my head.
My mother is what everyone called a Christian. She attended a local church it was an Assembly of The Lord Jesus Christ church which I later got word was that of the Pentecostal Movement. That must be why she was so vibrant, so lively, so kind and so eager to touch people, to touch their heart. I didn’t really think too much of this at the time, seeing as I was young and just wanted to be a child and to have fun with my life, it’s so strange how that never happened…(well till the day I met the stranger).
My father was well--- very different than my mother, he was a workaholic. I remember I wanted to spend time with him one day, you know those father son moments? Yeah well so much for those now. My father never paid me no mind, making a buck became more important to him then his own son. Yet despite it I still loved him. He did show me many things, but we wouldn’t be able to reminisce on them together now would we?
My mother was a small lady, black hair and brown eyes very dark toned. She was the sweetest women I know. My father was an average size man, blond hair green eyes and had freckles all over, he stood 5’9 and she stood 5’0 even. Yup that’s my folks.
Jennifer came knocking on my door very soft and gently and with a soft voice I replied “hello” and as she opened the door quietly to a cracking point and slipped her head inside and asked,” is it ok to come in and talk?” she said
“Sure but I don’t have anything to really say…” She came in and sat on the bed and said, “Is there anything I can do for you?” I replied, “No---no it’s ok, I’m ok.” I will get through it.
This statement may be considered quite strange coming from a boy so young. This image of his parents hanging from the stairwell was a piercing memory within his mind, a vivid picture of lasting sadness.
That night I rested a rest that is unquestionably minuet to the very days that lay before me. I woke up to the smell of warm coffee brewing in Susan’s breakfast nuke, and proceeded to that very smell. “Good morning Susan” was the greeting that left my mouth and entered her very carrying ear.
Good morning Jason. How are you? Good I replied. We sat down at the table and further discussed the situation that we were in. She seemed excited to take on the role of my mother and it left me dumbfounded, I could not understand her excitement, but she was a good woman, a loving woman, a caring woman, and a mother beyond limits. It did not take long to except her as my mother, as if it was a Divine outcome.
I began to get ready for school and Jennifer and I began to walk together to and from. It was our time together, our time to share thoughts, secrets, hurts, and ideas…I cared for Jennifer and she was my friend.
Jennifer was an untainted soul, though she had her hurts and pains, some may consider her to be pure…or at least I did, she was everything I wasn’t, everything I wanted to be outside the prison of my mind. The other kids did indeed make fun of me, seeing as all of them had their parents… perhaps if they had been set free from the prisons of their mind,… or not!, their “prison” would have been more decorative than mine. That is why I loved Jennifer she was different than the rest as if she was not a local, not in the physical since, but spiritual…from somewhere else…that place I wanted to be…the more time I was with her the more I felt “it” I didn’t know what “it” was but “it” I indeed felt.
There was no sadness around her. Or at least I thought…