Where the Koi Rest, Where the Rain Falls
He generalizes life because he can. As life feels cruel and hurtful, a betrayer to positivity, a reminder of how insignificant he has been.
His sickness nearly brought any chances of hope to ruin. All that hope of finding his runaway younger brother, all that hope of helping his mother find life in dark times, and all that hope he too could blossom like a flower, beaming with needed optimism. But while rain falls and storms thunder across the mighty skies, he remains in sickness, weakened in so many regards now. He has recovered reluctantly and sits in his room, watching time flow by without any care for him. He presses his fingers into his dry face, his skin unsmooth and needing moisture, some water. He never understood why people give up and grow unmotivated, but he needed to know for himself, which took only small decisions in silent thoughts. He feels lingering disappointment.
He had dreams, but sickness muted them for days. He had ambitions but while he watches rain fall and grey clouds thunder, he finds them all to be absurd. He generalizes life because he can. As life feels cruel and hurtful, a betrayer to positivity, a reminder of how insignificant he has been. He flinches from nearby footsteps, spotting his mother shuffle in between rooms, quiet. She sleeps and remains distant, unwilling to chase motivation like himself. He hears the wooden door slide close and returns to his memories, watching reality but reflecting fantasy. Because he could have joined the military like his father, he could have been important like his grandfather. Yet he grows older and loses track of any ambition. It has been like this for him since he could remember, unlike his younger brother, more foolhardy and determined to chase motivation.
He sits on the smooth, wooden steps while rain patters the lowest step. Some raindrops land on his feet and ankles, but he simply watches, using the empty time during storms to ponder. He could try to search again and make a decent agenda for tracking down his younger brother, but it seems that his sibling does not want to be found. So, the grandson waits for nothing at all. He glances at the koi fish pond, sees the volume of rain that patters atop the water's surface and rests his chin on his knuckles. He, too, needs to move on with his life. He can't spend another week like this, growing weaker and more reclusive. He then rests his right cheek on his knuckles. He tries to recall what memories he had of his grandfather, of his father, but little has formulated. So he returns to his room, grabs something to write with, and analyzes himself at the center.
After a few minutes, he has revealed to himself directions he can go in, directions with unclear results. He has described what each family member has done with their lifetimes. His grandfather was an important person in the town, a local politician. His father was a soldier in the military. His mother has long been a housewife but had minor interests as an apothecary. Her medicines have been helpful for the whole household, but many of these medicines resemble home remedies, not anything standard. His younger brother remains a mystery, too, shifting with his ultimate life goals. So, the Grandson has three career paths to choose from. Even more, he can link these careers to one another, organizing them in sequence, a trajectory. He circles the military and draws a primary number beside it. He then circles and draws a secondary number beside local politics. He finally circles and draws a tertiary number by apothecary work. He links chronologically number by number until he can view the entirety.
He hesitates, seeing that if he left for the military, his mother would be robbed of both children. He wouldn’t know if his decision could make everything worse with her or if his mother, freed from caring for others, could return to apothecary-like work, what he can observe about her. He may be doing her a relief, not a tragedy. He just needs to survive where he can return and begin the next phase of this linked trajectory, this life direction drawn out of his aimlessness. He sighs. He stands up and makes the most challenging choice he has ever had to make. He enters her room, slides the door closed, greets her, and tells her. He tells her that he will follow in his father's footsteps. She at first says nothing but eventually bursts into tears, like he feared. He may not have a real chance to do this ever again, watching her weep, so he lays next to her and hugs his mother, who cries even harder into him, shaking with woe and lamentation. He exhales.
He will enlist as soon as possible. He will absolve himself of his self-guilt. He will sink or swim like a koi fish.
