The loss of innocence.

I am sure there are many ways to interrupt the term loss. Everyone feels differently about what innocence is as well. So for this story we will have to go with my version, so if it is not the way you interrupt the meaning deal with it or do not read it.

I started to think about this a few years ago. When you loss something be it possessions or emotional ideas you never really know they are gone until you look for them. That just strikes me as a bit on the humorous side a bit.. I know people , myself included, that never realize something is missing till someone either ask about it or wants to borrow it. For material items this is not so unusual, but when its more of a mental or emotional item it can be quite disconcerting to realize that you do not possess this anymore.

I guess for me it was the realization that I have no real direction in life. After being released from the Marines back in 1989 it was pretty obvious to everyone but me that I had no desire for any type of structure at all. All I wanted was to have lots and lots of fun after serving my country.

This did not go over very well with my family. For some reason they thought I should settle down and raise a family of my own. This sounded like the most sensible thing in the world to all of them but not to me. The thought of settling down and raising a family scared the you know what right out of me.

So I split town with just a rucksack full of clothes and $300.00 from my savings. I was going to do what I wanted to do and to hell with everyone else. I never thought it would be so easy to escape my family, but apparently they never guessed I would take off without asking them for money. Silly family I didn’t want or need their help.

My first stop was about one of the smallest downs I had ever been in. I was sticking to the back roads to avoid any possibility of my family finding me. This town was so small it had a combination store/gas station/ video rental and was also the dispatch for the local police and fire rescue. I can’t seem to remember the name of the town but I do remember the lovely young woman behind the counter.

She looked to be about 19 or so long brown hair almost reaching to her lovely posterior. Well lets just say she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Her name was Barbara. Now I know she must have thought me to be stupid or something cause she kept asking me “ Can I help you?”, and all I could do was stand there an stare.

Well when I was finally able to regain the use of my tongue and vocal cords I asked for a pack of Lucky Strikes. She rang me up the cost was $2.57, I added a coke to my purchase and went outside to through myself under something heavy and moving for being such a schmuck.
I lit a smoke and was sitting on the step drinking my coke when I heard the door open. Barbara came outside and sat down beside me on the steps and we started talking. I learned that she was twenty one and was in her third year of college working one a teaching degree. I told her I was just out traveling around trying to have some fun after doing almost 7 years in the service.

It was almost 11pm when I told her I had to go. She asked if I was staying some where in the area. I lied and said I had an uncle not to far from the store and she might see me again soon. She went back inside and started to close the store. I went back down to the creek under a train bridge where I had set up my camp for the night.

For some reason I just couldn’t get Barbara out of my mind that evening. I laid awake tossing and turning remembering every thing about her. The way she talked was music to me I could listen to her for hours, and did. The way she smelled of lilac, honey, and pickle juice from the deli they had in the store.

I took a long cold bath in the creek that morning and decided I was going to hang around town for a bit. Which meant there were things I needed to do.
1. Find a job.
2. Find a place to stay.
3. Figure out why I couldn’t get here out of my mind.

Finding a job turned out to be much easier than I thought. It was harvest time and farmers where looking for help. I took a job working for Mr. McMullen. He ran a huge tobacco farm and two of his sons had went of to the service right after they graduated high school two months ago. He also had a room above the barn where I could stay till I found something more permanent or moved on.

Mr. McMullen was a very hard man he expected a lot from everyone who worked for him, but he paid well and the food his wife a daughters cooked was excellent. We would get up at 5a.m. every day but Sunday. Have a nice breakfast where you could eat as much as you wanted. I found out after the first day to eat a small but filling breakfast or loss it about two hours later in the fields.

Lets see back to Barbara I went to see her again the first Sunday I had off. She was working in the store till 4p.m. that after noon so I hung around until she got of work. We talked about her school schedule and about me working for Mr. McMullen. Which she already new about from Mrs. McMullen and her daughter Kate. Who had been shopping earlier in the week.