unexpectation

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
La chaîne des Puys, le parc naturel régional des volcans d’Auvergne

Submitted: December 09, 2011

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Submitted: December 09, 2011

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two wee lads grew up in the same village---

with their houses only a short distance away

they became close friends at an early age

playing the same sports, both learning how to

play an instrument, stumbling through early flirtations

with

girls & even pondering their prospective futures---

theirs was an unparalleled bromance.

 

upon the eve of their high school graduation,

one of the young men decided that he wanted to go

to school for

marketing---

he wanted to go to school to study what he thought

was a lucrative field

so that he would

sooner than later

be rolling in the benjamins---

because, with mucho benjamins came mucho power

and with mucho power came mucho women---

this all made sense to an 18 year old who had

only one thing on his mind.

 

the other young man was passionate

he was far too passionate to take on the business

world

or to involve himself with anything

lucrative at all---

he took it upon himself to pursue his painting

with a few pit stops in other countries along the way

scrapping & meeting new people

meeting more new people & scrapping further.

 

and while one idea followed a distinct plan

with a definable conclusion in sight,

the other path functioned without any direction

whatsoever &

the very absence of expectation

during the whole of his travels

made the way of the second young man’s life

seemingly much more interesting than the

first’s. 

 

over the years the two individuals lost touch as things

go---

the first graduated college, began working for a big

firm,

got married & moved out to the west coast---

the second went the other direction, overseas,

never rooting anywhere for more than a bit of time.

 

years went by

as years do,

and in time the marketing man climbed the ladder---

his dwelling grew in size

his brood multiplied

and all seemed well in happytown.

 

the other, whose legs continued to cross

borders, but whose pockets never really jingled

much,

he continued, without expectation.

 

the man with the big house &

the large family &

the jingling pockets

had planned every step so succinctly

that it seemed nothing could fail,

as each individual part thrived on the

greater monolith,

working together from within---

but at age 40 he was killed in a plane crash

with the rest of his family.

 

the second man kept on traveling,

he kept on painting &

he continues to

expecting nothing from this life.


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