Brother

My brother called a month ago to ask if I’d like to be his best man. This will be the fourth time I will be the best man in a wedding. I’m not sure how this keeps happening.

My younger brother has always been my soft spot. He was my saving grace.

He asked if I would do an old-fashioned best man’s speech.

He said, “With how you are with your words I’d like to hear what you have to say. Just please include the memory when I threw the rock through your window at 3 AM because I locked my keys inside.” He was outside drunk. Alone. Happy.

While my brother was talking about the wedding I tried to stay in the moment. I’ll admit I did drift.

With everything that’s happened in the past few months, including nearly losing my wife due to an internal rupture, and internal bleeding, I drifted. I started to imagine myself at my brother’s wedding. Me going into the old systematic fold that I’ve always used when I’m around many people. No one knows. People will tell me it’s great to see me and I’ll think something along the lines of, ‘We gain too much knowledge and we die.’ I’ll shake their hand and observe how much time I think they might have left. Some people seem to have a harder time absorbing knowledge than others. They’ll ask me a direct question and I’ll answer them very quickly. And we’ll head to the bar.

-M. Taggart

Cheers

 

A Purposeful Life – Fiction

Written by Matt Taggart aka -M. Taggart

Copyright 2016

A Purposeful Life – Fiction

 

And the children were happy because they loved their uncle and love was a smile.  He reached lower to ruffle each of their heads.  His nephew ran after his twin sister through the doorway leading into the living room and both were now gone.  Only the sounds of their footsteps racing upstairs were left for him.

He was alone.  His brother and wife had already said goodbye and were also upstairs.  Now, all that was left was to open the closet door, find his jacket, and leave.

Hanging on hooks, on the back of the closet door, were coats with little hoods that had animal ears.  On the closet floor were tiny boots.  He told himself not to think about it, but it was too late and he’d already started.  He reached out and touched a red checkered coat that belonged to his nephew.

No, he thought.  This is their happiness and it isn’t right to think of this now.  He closed the front door behind him, walked down the porch steps, and into the driveway.  He opened the door to his truck and got in.

Opening the windows, feeling the wind, and listening to music while he drove didn’t help.  He turned the radio off.  The winding New Hampshire road led him through farm land.  Cow pastures and corn fields were on either side of him.  Beyond the fields was woodland leading to a deeper forest.  Maybe he ought to stop his truck and walk in as deeply as he could and not come back for a long while or ever.  It seemed it was now always like this.  Each time he visited his brother- to see family, he was forced to remember and now it was overwhelming and he couldn’t not think of it.

It was difficult for him to look forward to his empty studio apartment containing walls which mocked each of his thoughts.  He would pace his small apartment and view the same cracks each time he passed them as not to tip the balance one way or the other.  Then he’d sit on his one chair he owned and read.  Sometimes this would help.  Other times it would only open him more to what he’d been trying to escape.  He was reminded that scars of this nature won’t heal with any one word from any one mouth and most likely won’t heal at all.  No matter how many words he’ll hear or read.

He knew deeply he needed change.  The cow pastures on the winding road wanted him to settle here, with them all, but he couldn’t.  He continued to drive, although he wasn’t truly in this moment.  He was nearly already pacing in his studio wondering which Hemingway story to read to find peace.  He wouldn’t think of it though, he told himself.  He’d only try and think of how they had smiled with love and try to learn it all again.  The sun was bright.  His mind split while trying to give permission to live with purpose.

 

I invite you to learn about my self published book.

https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/my-book/

Or you can skip directly to the amazon page and read the reviews.

Thank you for reading.

Matt

 

Let us reach – Odd Walking Thoughts

We forget to feed one another because while we grew they taught us to not. WE wanted to. Our brother cried and we fed him and our sister didn’t’ cry, but wanted to be fed, so we fed her too. Now we can’t because they told us to be strong. We’re strong now and we no longer care when our brother or sister cries.