Ben stood at the head of the trail. He stood there facing all the troubles and sorrows that might accompany a man on his long journey through life. Ben stood there a good while pondering his future, filled with grand adventures and heroic battles, and of course, normal affairs of life like meals and lodging and such. Yes sir, Ben was a most thoughtful fella. He stood tall he did, all his eight years and counting, surveying with excitement the trail laid out afore him. It was filled with untold hardships and trouble. But he figured it was also filled with untold glories and wonders. And most important of all, true adventure.
Now, if you must know, Ben’s eight-year-old self was in fact standing along Main Street one morning, casting a grand vision of running away. To be clear now, it wasn’t that home life was so bad. For to speak true, life was most pleasant, and his Ma could cook real fine. Particularly roast beef on alternate Sunday afternoons, served with mountains of potatoes and gravy and collard greens and warm cornbread. No, it was just that his life in particular lacked that special something to make it truly fine. It lacked that edge of glory, you might say. He knew he was considerable shy of any real adventure in his life and he was hungry for it. Why, the most exciting thing he’d ever done was rescue one of Mrs. Cartwright’s hens from that red fox. No mind though. The fox was gradually paring down her hens one by one. But he, Ben, his own self, had saved the one hen. And yes, that rescuing and saving had the flavor of true adventure, the very thing he hankered for. So, Ben stood at the head of the trail, which is to say Main Street, having visions of glory. The sun was bright, making all the dreams of boyhood even more likely of fulfillment. It was June, and they’d no rain for two weeks, but it was due any day. Just like the adventures and wonderment of life: due any day now.
So, with a brave heart and the careless abandon of childhood, Ben set off east along Main Street keeping his focus set hard on the edge of town. That’s when he’d know of a certain that he was heading out on an honest-to-gosh adventure, when he passed the little sign indicating the Rosebud population showing 476 souls, and “demarcating the actual edge of town,” his father had said. And as he passed the sign, it gave him a sense that he was truly and most certainly taking off on a personal quest, a life-changing undertaking. Why, he could see the Gilbert farm out there on the horizon, just there, edging toward him ever so slowly. And he just kept walking, sensing for all the world the freedom that comes to a body cutting loose of the constraints of family life. Why, to speak true, he felt a great weight fall from his shoulders at about half a mile out on the county road. The air seemed cleaner and fresher, if you want to know, and the sun was standing halfway to noon. Yup, it was a good day to be making the break. And he walked on down the road into the glories laid out before him.
Now, it was after he passed the Gilbert’s farm and fields that his mind meandered to things of a practical turn. He was nursing a mite of hunger, as he was accustomed to a midmorning snack of one sort or another. And, as any good traveler knows, he had packed himself a lunch. Peanut butter and jelly between two slices of Ma’s fresh bread. But that was for lunch. So, he figured to keep it by until a bit later in his journey.
But wouldn’t you know, the hunger was gnawing at his inner self aplenty and he was thinking on it mightily. So, after a time, about a mile or so, he pulled off the road to one side and found a comfortable spot to settle in for just a taste of that sandwich. Just a little, mind you.
And so it was, his father making note of his missing and adventure-seeking son, had started up the old Ford pickup motoring on out the county road driving slow and meaningful-like. He was keeping a sharp eye for someone on a quest of life’s adventures, eyeing for a young traveler, if you want the straight of it. And it was some two miles out of town the old Ford rolled to a stop alongside a young boy just finishing off a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the evidence of jam smeared clear either side of his big smile. The father alighted from his truck and walks over.
“Seen ya been on a quest, ya have,” the father remarked casually.
“Yup,” Ben responded, “been seeing the world at large, I have.” The traveler had that far-off look in his eyes. It showed.
“Seen enough?”
“Why, sure have,” Ben replied, considering the peanut butter and jelly was more or less consumed and he’d most truly exhausted his resources plumb dry. And then, there was lunch coming on with all the practical concerns of life and whatnot.
“Got me the truck here. I can give ya a lift ta where yer headed,” his father offered.
“I think I’ll be headin home just now,” Ben said wistfully, “seen plenty.”
And they climbed up into the pickup and headed back into Rosebud.
As the truck rolled into the driveway and Ben was getting out, his foot touched the ground, and he could smell fresh bread Ma was baking. Why sure, maybe a little something for lunch to tide him over until who knows what. Then he’d find his friend Ray. They could explore down to the pond. Why, adventures were due. Just like rain. Due any day now.
Image by wirestock on Freepik
- Any Day Now: An Adventure Story - February 21, 2024
- The Hackberry Tree - November 6, 2023
Leave a Reply