Mountains (Random Impulse)

“So, what am I supposed to do now?”

“Well, you’ve got to meditate on that question, Cammie.  Come up with your own solution.  I can’t do it for you.”

That was the deciding moment of a familiar decision.  It had been all too hard six months ago, but this time, it should be easy.  So, I wiped at my cheeks with my sleeve, grabbed my book-bag, and left my councilor’s office, with no intentions of ever coming back.

That would be the last time i'd leave school early.  On the short walk towards home, I gazed up at the mountains in the far distance, which looked so close.  This reminded me of sometime last year, around the break of fall; my friends and I were walking, in between goofing off, to Giovanni’s Pizza Shop, our favorite place in the world to eat.  I would always have the absolute best time at that pizza shop, but the long walk was the awesome part.  We would all talk about the teachers we hated, the friends at school who we only pretended to like, or how completely inedible the food seemed that day at lunch.  But most of all, I remember gazing up at the mountains, thinking how beautiful they were, and how they appeared close enough for me to run up and touch, but were miles and miles away in reality.  I would think about how they pretty much always looked the same.  Sure, the mountains would sometimes be dressed in snow on days when it was cold in the city, but they didn’t change as drastic as trees changed from season to season.  I was almost sure their evolution took place, but it must have been something gradual; something that no one would even notice until the change was complete. 

 My short walk home seemed somewhat lengthy on that day, but I eventually made it to my house.  When I walked into the family room, I saw my mother on the couch, mindlessly changing the channels to the television.  She hadn’t been quite the same since she found out about the baby.

“How was school?” she asked. 

“Fine,” as I always answer, no matter how my day really went. 

“What did the councilor say?” 

“I don’t think I’m going back, mom.”

“Oh.”

She kind of had the same reaction that she did six months ago, when she found out that I had decided to become a single parent.  She let the television land on the Channel Six news, which she always hated watching.  Her hand slowly lost grasp of the remote, as she slumped into the couch.  I guess we were both giving up.