02-05-2020, 03:23 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; line-height: 150%; color: #494949; font-family: karla; font-size: 8pt; letter-spacing: 0.2px; word-spacing: 1px; margin-top: 10px;"]wendy used to say , "you'd just know."
wendy was once his irresponsible , reckless next door neighbor. now she was his fiancè . his fiancè who'd just put their three month year old song in his crib , cradling him to sleep as if it were natural , as if her former fears of being a mother were absorbed by this child alone. in context , he'd asked her how she was able to change so much. how she was able to know how to grasp a role she'd not known nor ever experienced. weaving in-and-out of foster homes, wendy was a caretaker for herself. and that was her answer. "you just know." he hoped , eventually , he'd know. as if renting books from libraries would give him the inner scope on what it was like to be a good father. he was overthinking it , wendy said , ' what would your mother do? ' that was foolish. what his mother did didn't matter. vince had that role and now, had something which mitchell never had: a father. traditionally , there was a difference.
except, things change. he was absent from his son's life until only a few months ago , the boy growing physically , emotionally . it was a calamitous bait-and-switch , mother-for-father type of deal. there was no going back to wendy , and vince understood that. but mitchell quite couldn't. he didn't talk about it , not much , about the travesty he felt; of losing two women he loved the same way and not being able to save them. vince reminded him a lot of her , really. not just the unruly brown hair the color of oak , but eyes to match. when vince wasn't looking , mitchell would observe him. he looked at life with a certain optimism he could not quite match. and like wendy , could talk mitchell's ear off he'd allow him to. with them being so similar , one might expect a connection. but this was a tad different , as vince and mitchell ? they were in two very different stages in life.
mitchell tried to intrigue vince with plants , with medicine. vince was far more interested in guns , in video games ; even though, he expressed in half-hearted dismay, he could no longer play them. got nostalgic over a generation he wasn't born to , cracked bad jokes that mitchell didn't understand ( or if he did , didn't find that amusing ) , and had no abstract of personal space. so with this in mind , he only found it intriguing when he saw a mother that harbored the same disposition as wendy. it was obvious that she loved her son , connected to him on an emotional plane that mitchell couldn't quite reach. did she "just know"
mitchell , this time , is going off on a tangent, going off about scientific facts in relation to the schefflera plant , when vince takes a hard veer left. mitchell pauses , following to see it ; ophelia and amadeus. he pauses as vince takes it upon himself to approach them , a boyish grin playing his features. "hey there, ladies man," he coos. as he raises his fist as a proposition for 'dap' "how's it going today?" now a general question , who anyone who might ask. mitchell watches from the sidelines , hands stuffed in his pockets where his pen is hidden.
click. click. click
wendy was once his irresponsible , reckless next door neighbor. now she was his fiancè . his fiancè who'd just put their three month year old song in his crib , cradling him to sleep as if it were natural , as if her former fears of being a mother were absorbed by this child alone. in context , he'd asked her how she was able to change so much. how she was able to know how to grasp a role she'd not known nor ever experienced. weaving in-and-out of foster homes, wendy was a caretaker for herself. and that was her answer. "you just know." he hoped , eventually , he'd know. as if renting books from libraries would give him the inner scope on what it was like to be a good father. he was overthinking it , wendy said , ' what would your mother do? ' that was foolish. what his mother did didn't matter. vince had that role and now, had something which mitchell never had: a father. traditionally , there was a difference.
except, things change. he was absent from his son's life until only a few months ago , the boy growing physically , emotionally . it was a calamitous bait-and-switch , mother-for-father type of deal. there was no going back to wendy , and vince understood that. but mitchell quite couldn't. he didn't talk about it , not much , about the travesty he felt; of losing two women he loved the same way and not being able to save them. vince reminded him a lot of her , really. not just the unruly brown hair the color of oak , but eyes to match. when vince wasn't looking , mitchell would observe him. he looked at life with a certain optimism he could not quite match. and like wendy , could talk mitchell's ear off he'd allow him to. with them being so similar , one might expect a connection. but this was a tad different , as vince and mitchell ? they were in two very different stages in life.
mitchell tried to intrigue vince with plants , with medicine. vince was far more interested in guns , in video games ; even though, he expressed in half-hearted dismay, he could no longer play them. got nostalgic over a generation he wasn't born to , cracked bad jokes that mitchell didn't understand ( or if he did , didn't find that amusing ) , and had no abstract of personal space. so with this in mind , he only found it intriguing when he saw a mother that harbored the same disposition as wendy. it was obvious that she loved her son , connected to him on an emotional plane that mitchell couldn't quite reach. did she "just know"
mitchell , this time , is going off on a tangent, going off about scientific facts in relation to the schefflera plant , when vince takes a hard veer left. mitchell pauses , following to see it ; ophelia and amadeus. he pauses as vince takes it upon himself to approach them , a boyish grin playing his features. "hey there, ladies man," he coos. as he raises his fist as a proposition for 'dap' "how's it going today?" now a general question , who anyone who might ask. mitchell watches from the sidelines , hands stuffed in his pockets where his pen is hidden.
click. click. click