Making the transition from the old blog to this one; picking a few posts that I think are worth returning and this is one of them, originally a 12/08/04 writing:

2004’s “Adrian is a momma’s boy” essay. A few things you have to know for it to make sense are:
-Amherst, NH is where we used to get up at 4 in the morning on every last Sunday of the month for a certain portion of the year to sell and buy at this enormous car swap. Lots of nice old cars, cool hot rod guys, and rare parts.
-A Timberjack is a kind of skidder (large machine used to haul logs) that I ran two winters ago working with my father.
-Cabela’s is a giant outdoorsmen store on the way to where one of my brothers has recently moved.
Here goes:

We don’t grow up; we grow near.

A nasty mix of rain and sleet is pelting my window right now, the heat works in my room, sometimes, and my roommate is upset again. The food at the café tonight looked like a first grader’s masterpiece, some wild concoction of cheese, hamburger and tater tots cooked as one, and I just found out I have a seven page paper due in less than twenty-four hours. I had a presentation the other day, one I had worried about for weeks, and as I opened up PowerPoint, my new worst enemy, I realized I was missing half my project. I’m sitting between two trash containers right now, both overflowing onto an already disgusting floor; someone’s used band aid is about to escape the Glad bag on my right, almost certain to be stepped on by me in the morning.

School can’t always be pretty, and unless being graded on how well you can read and regurgitate is your thing, it isn’t always fun either. It’s about 11:15pm right now; I’ve been doing work all night until just a moment ago when the phone rang. I pick it up; it’s Bob. Instantly, what wasn’t so clear before is plain as day, when rotting banana peels and gossip were all that I could see and hear, my goals suddenly became understandable. The solid foundation I’ll earn with 2 more years, the amount of learning I’ve done in the last 5 months or so, the mere fact that a kid who thinks of Amherst car swaps every early morning he laces his boots up can hold his own at the collegiate level, that’s what Bob reminded me of.

I wonder so often, why… why push a pencil all day, why stress over a test that doesn’t interest me? Well, I still can’t answer that, but I look at what it’s done for me so far and I suppose I can’t complain. I miss home; winter is here and I wish I were fiddling with Timberjack levers and helping dad but you know, if I were home right now, I probably wouldn’t be wishing that. Being away is not fun, but it makes all of us appreciate each other and enjoy the moments we do have together that much more. Ttalking to Bob or anyone else in the family makes my night now, it’s one of the best things I have to look forward to. We get a little taller each year, hopefully put on a few more pounds from the gym, sometimes the miles between us increases as well, but we’re still family, we still love each other; it’s just more apparent now.

Merry Christmas, Mom. Forty minutes away or a twelve hour trip past Cabela’s, we all love you.