Okay, not to make any Jesus comparisons--other than the long hair and a fondness for sandals--but I'm not risen like him. I'm alive.
Just barely, mind you.
Sorry for the fake out. That's twice in the last few months, first with Patrick and now with me. It wasn't intentional. As I said in the post you read, I schedule that damn thing every time I work. Just didn't reckon on being hurt badly enough I couldn't get Jess to fix it but not bad enough to die. My fault, really.
I'm only being given a short time with my computer, and the truth is I can't handle much exertion. Yes, typing is an effort for me at the moment. I only woke up from surgery this morning. I don't have a clue what's going on with the UAS right now other than a brief visit by Kincaid, who told me hostilities have been at a standstill for two days.
I spent about an hour talking with Jess and some other people, which is why I'm bothering to write this now. Even if the others hadn't agreed, I would still be making this decision: we're leaving.
A fairly large group of us will be going. Me, Jess, Pat and his daughter, Courtney and Steve, Kincaid, a few other friends. Will is staying, as is Becky for now. K is coming and is bringing some people with him, friends of his I've yet to meet. Turns out K was the one who pulled my bullet-riddled ass off the field. Saved my life. Talked with him a bit as well, but Jess was the one who really got to spend time with him while I was unconscious.
I'm not privy to the entire conversation, but Jess made it totally clear she wants to leave. Strike out on our own and leave Haven behind. I've felt something like that for a long time myself without ever being able to identify it. An urge to move past the politics and problems that come with so many people joining together. To leave behind the good and the bad and wipe the slate clean. We've sacrificed a lot over the years. I've nearly died a couple times.
For Jess, this last time was really the last time. She can't take watching me get hurt like this. I can't handle much more of it, either. I'm not torn--the decision is made. It will take time to figure out how to manage it what with the army camped a few miles away. We'll need supplies and the like but we've got enough practice winging it that even that isn't a huge concern.
I'll miss this place. It was my home long before The Fall. I grew up here. I built a life with the woman I love here. And now we're planning to leave it behind. I still believe in the future of our people, in cooperative effort and large communities. I just don't think I belong in one. Belonging means responsibilities I no longer wants. A couple rifle bullets to several important areas of my anatomy were very convincing.
That's all I have for now. When I know more about the cease-fire between the two armies I'll let you know. I'm more than a little curious about that.
Glad you are still with us Josh. I hope you post on your progress and journey occasionally. Be well and may the wind be at your back and the road safely traveled.ReplyDelete
If you come west, we hope to meet up with you.
Dude! I was about to post your eulogy. I would have looked like such an idiot, and been thoroughly happy about it. Still, you leaving is rough. But at least you're not dead.ReplyDelete
You could always join up with us. We're never tied down to one place for very long and you wouldn't have to worry about anything other than keeping us company. To the Dragoons, you're kind of a hero.ReplyDelete
A new beginning, a fresh start. You're right, you know. Politics, even before The Fall, was difficult for me to stomach. It's much more worse now after The Fall because we survived, thrived even, without interference from political "leaders". Find a wonderfully quiet rural area, begin to tend the land (and your bodies), build your Utopia with only you in mind. Don't just survive, thrive. Best to you and yours.ReplyDelete
swing over our way for a while then up to you. Glad your still alive and remember every day you live is a day you should be happy and doing what you wantReplyDelete