A short story: A mother's view point concerning her troubled son.

Essay by lindamc December 2003

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His Journey

Stretching for miles, the road continues in front of us. The fog swirls through the trees while the sun rises in its dimmed brilliance. Cars passing, going on their own journeys

Are their hearts just as heavy? A trip that's forced upon us yet needed if he is to heal mentally. Will this work? Will being with nature calm his troubled soul?

The land is changing around us. The cows are grazing on both sides of the highway, eating their morning meal. A few more miles and we are entering the outskirts of a city, with factories, homes, and overpasses. He's sleeping now, the tears dried. We're in the tunnel, closed in on all sides. Does he feel this way too, closed in with nowhere else to go? Crossing a bridge that he's burned behind him.

The fog is still around us with the sun half up but still covered.

The water is barely visible as we cross our own bridge. The traffic is heavier as we travel on. He continues to sleep. What's going through his head? Will he take advantage of this opportunity? Learn how to deal with his emotions or his will to do wrong? Will he find the balance that's needed to survive this huge world? Will nature teach him?

The traffic is now dense with only a few cars on the road. The fog is heavier with droplets of moisture covering the windshield. Slowly building up till the wipers are needed. Just like his actions, slowly building a wall around our hearts, brick by brick, so the pains are numbed. Just like the wipers to clear the rain, this is a sledgehammer needed to slowly knock the wall down.

The journey continues and we're halfway there. Our hearts even more troubled. He's...