Thursday, December 1
Moleskin 5.9: Stability River
But the clean slate was less than it would seem. The grades did not say anything about where I had been or where I was going or who I wanted to be. I still had a little Huck Finn in me, for one thing, with rivers to explore and rebellions to consider. The house, it was nice, but it was still not much more than where I happened to live, and who could say, after that summer of twelve, where thirteen and fourteen would find me. And yes, it looked like we would have stability now with no more being single-parented at the looms of poverty, no more unincorporated neighborhoods full of dinner smells and dumpsters, no more weekends at the Dolphin Motel. But I was not, will never be ready to write my dad out of the story, so there I was on the banks of Stability River, doing a lot of thinking.