alone

i remember the day i divulged my dreams. some moments never leave you, and that was surely one of them, standing there in that blue house on a hill. the adults in the living room that day stood over me like a cul-de-sac of leaning towers, looking down on a boy trying to find the roads to himself. "and what, young man, do you wish to be when you grow up?" i always found that question odd, to be honest, and silly, loaded with expectation for the right answer, as if it were some kind of multiple-choice exam. it's strange to say this now, but at that age i still believed grown-ups cared about your sense of wonder, that they were still fascinated by the innocence of a dream. "a bird!" i declared with wide-eyed confidence. "when i grow up, i wanna be a bird." i remember how my eyes navigated the authority on their faces under that triangled ceiling, how the sun warmed their features through the windows. "because, one day," i said, trying now to fill the silence, "one day i wanna fly." i can still feel the scars in the pit of my stomach cracking open from the raucous laughter that erupted out of their mouths like arrows hurling down. i didn't stand a chance. i was a dreamy kid looking up for directions, and so i went along laughing out loud at the audacity of my own dreams, taking notes as i stood there quietly weighing the costs of being yourself in a world full of actors. all these years later i still go by that house, with my windows down, carrying a question i've always wanted to ask them. "and what, old men, do you wish you could have been?" i was taught to respect my elders, and so i learned that some things are better left unsaid. the cul-de-sac is still there, but the faces inside the windows are different. time marched on, the days became years, and one morning in my early twenties i left that street, i grew up, and i learned that eagles have dreams, too, and that if they ever wish to fly, they must fly alone

(THE DIARY OF EDDY MOOD)
—jk montane