Got to get out of here…

Travel, adventure, gold. That’s what he wanted. Jason dreamed of horseback riding on a rugged mountain trail in search of a long-forgotten mine. Or maybe scuba diving in shark-infested waters to discover an ancient shipload of gold. Perhaps skydiving into a hostile jungle to locate a hidden temple full of jeweled treasure. But not today. Here he was pulling weeds from the garden as sweat trickled into his eyes.

Only two more rows before he could get out of the July sun. Then he could be free from this toil for about two weeks. That’s how long he figured he could convince his mom it didn’t need to be done again. His dad was no problem. He never took any interest in what happened around the house. In fact, his dad didn’t worry about much of anything lately, except work.

It seemed his dad was always going on a business trip to somewhere. Those places must be more exciting than here, Jason thought as he yanked a bean plant by mistake. Oh well, his mom probably wouldn’t notice anyway. The only time she looked at the garden was between trips to her hairdresser or bridge club. That was when she would yell up to his room to get him to weed the garden.

I’ve got to get out of this small town. There’s no way I’m going to get stuck spending the rest of my life going to a dead end job, running errands on my way home, and doing stupid yard work on the weekends.

3 thoughts on “Got to get out of here…

  1. Pingback: “Foolish Compassion” – The 19th of September 1993 – Harrisburg, Pennsylvania | Forgotten Correspondence

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