VONDERSTOP

I set a goal with my day off to start a new book. No, not read a new book. Start writing a new book, or until its long enough, a new story anyways. Here goes:

Hazel Baby

How I got here is a complete justification. And what is a justification but a bad decision preceded by a good story. Its the middle, the meat of it. Though it would certainly be easier to give you the beginning and end of it, for someones sake, yes maybe mine, I’ll give you the justification too. It didnt start this way. I was simply trying to figure things out. My family had set this bar that I had never been able to reach. Not in a collegiate way as these stories often start. No, in fact, it was the exact opposite. My parents regarded themselves as something special. You could tell by the way they described their own lives, at length mind you, to new friends. They held their own marraige as the gold standard, one by which all others should compare. They knew they got it right and thank goodness the rest of us now had a model to follow. My father fancied himself, at any given time, the smartest man in the room. My mother, well, she filled in the rest. The music collection, the clothes, the endless social contacts. They had it all and the confidence not to care that much about any of it, at least, not openly. Now, I dont know if any of you ever felt like you didnt quite belong to your family. I have never reached their level of, oh how shall I say, I suppose, I never had the ability to draw people in like they did. Truthfully, I had never drawn myself in. I was more an outline of a person waiting to be illustrated. And thats how this story starts.

The Shash and the Ash. I didnt really get that we were taking more than one picture.