It was always me on the trips. I never ever remembered the trips. I still don’t. It is a trip in itself.
They made it for me didn’t they? It had to be me. That is a trip. I was simply a child. At least, I was supposed to be simply that. After all these years, I still really don’t know.
I call myself a Mennonite though. I want to be that.
I don’t really know though. I really don’t.
How do I know so much and so little?
I remember running on to runways. I remember walking into the street. I remember the nightmares. Only now I don’t think that is what they were.
I think they were something else. Yep. Something else.
I can only surmise based on what I know is inside me.
It is also a trip Dad because no one understands any of this, not even me really.
Do you? The more I see the “evidence” and combine that with how this “stuff” gets compartmentalized, you probably don’t.
I suspect you have seen some “strange days” too.
I am a Mennonite now Dad. Ain’t that a trip?
You took off on a different trip. Same trip, different locale.
What a life you have led Dad. I mean what I have been able to find about you is truly fascinating. It still only a little though.
You know they put a lot of stuff into me?
When I was five years old I walked into that big ocean wave and as it engulfed me I had my eyes open the whole time and I gazed up at the sky through this wall of water. I didn’t panic. I just turned around and walked back.
Are you like that too Dad?
If people really knew, they would be astonished.
They really would Dad. You know?
The stuff I have seen and forgotten is epic.
It is all in me though.
I have the feeling the things I still don’t know about me are huge, gigantic in significance. It is not something I readily pursue. Do you know why?
I do. I should not have to tell you why.