How long do you think you can live like this before life drops you back down to the roots? I floated high above the earth and wondered. My soul was in a cloud, it was obviously just a dream, a day dream I had the other night. As I stood and watched the sun set and a lightning storm role in. I could feel myself coming back from a journey or something. It was funny what I remembered.
"Jefferey?" yelled his mother.
"What mom?" answered the boy, intolerant.
"did you clean the bathroom like I told you?" she asked in a seemingly rational tone.
"No....But I will" he said as he stood up to see all the children playing street ball outside. The sun was setting and he was being forced to stay inside. "Schools starting next week!" he said mocking his mother.
"You better!" her voice came echoing from downstairs.
It was the last week of summer and he had to re-acquaint himself with the life style of the rich and educated. After a two months worth of that overseas Jet lag, he felt different then his neighborhood counter parts, yet, the bathroom was still his job. He was too tiered to clean the tub by the time he finished watching the sun fall into the horizon. All he could really do was settle down and smile about the fact that other kids in the crescent didn't even know that the world worked in so many more languages then the typical NHL fan could fathom. "It's sad though!" he said to himself quietly, speaking in a rather mature way, "I like watching hockey too!"
It was nine thirty by the time he was all cleaned up and ready for bed. His parents were down stairs. He could hear his mother yelling, softly into the the abyss that was his fathers face. They weren't meant to be together. Jeffery knew it. Watching his mother feel all at home back in Europe made him think. Maybe they weren't meant to be immigrants. Canada was such a different culture for the two of them. He jumped into bed thinking about what it would have been like to see his father back at home with his parents. All the thinking put a smile on his face. He missed his grandmothers tea. She had been feeding it to him every morning since the day he had landed there. He was back home now, under the covers laying awake thinking that if he had been born there and if he was going to be going to school there, he would be waking up there right now. The recollection of the sun falling over the horizon reminded him that he was here now, at home. Listening to his parents argue in their mother tongue, his first language, sister to her brothers tongue.