It's fine to reflect and recall hardships, but it's better to lay them aside and reach for the moments when someone somewhere showed you love.

I have always been able to make my life happier than it might have been.  As a child, I remember the chaos and unhappiness we sometimes suffered, but I also remember the love. It was something that came naturally and something we shared day to day. Life was not simpler then, but there were more opportunities for finding happiness in the little things. Happiness comes from living in the moment and doing the little things that make you smile, laugh or forget.


As a child my life was filled with sisters, brothers and dreams. One of the little things I remember is the time spent huddled together on my brother's bed situated in the corner of a room at the rear of our house. We'd talk about what we planned to to with our lives or what we learned in school during the week. We'd plan our future together while our parents were away at work. 


We all wanted brand new cars, a large house, two children playing in the yard, and porch swings. We all wanted two cats, two dogs and enough money to go around. We didn't need an excess of dollars, only enough to buy things we needed and a few things that we didn't need. 


Life was simple then, or was it? There were experiences of extreme bullying in schools and gang fights after school; there were acts of domestic violence, child abuse and sexual abuse in homes: there were circumstances of poverty and scarcity, especially after a divorce. But there was also love. 


I could reach back in time and pull out stories of abusive or cheating husbands, domestic arguments and fights; child molesters posturing as relatives, clergymen or senators; child abuse and beatings. Or I could reach for the love that showed up at Thanksgiving and Christmas in the form of mothers at home and in the neighborhood working half-way through the night and serving a meal fit for kings and queens, always with a smile on their faces and a look of love in their eyes. Or I could try to describe the pride on my mother's face at one of our high school graduations because the accomplishments of one was an achievement for an entire family.


One step at a time, chances at life are taken and challenges are faced, but happiness takes place in moments of living and loving, one day at a time. It's fine to reflect and recall hardships, but it's better to lay them aside and reach for the moments when someone somewhere showed you love. Such moments are part of the little things that allow us to appreciate our experiences and find happiness in life.

Nothing great is achieved without risk.

Chapter 1 (an excerpt)

Icicles hung from rooftops, clung to trees and dripped from telephone wires then fell to the ground breaking into shards of glass. Soon I was speeding through twists and turns overlooking Crossville, Tennessee. The trip had been planned a year ago, and I was determined to reach my destination at the designated time.

Weather was "iffy" and roads were glitchy this time of year—icy spots all over, but a lot better than pouring rain which might come without warning in the first week of spring. Worse yet, there might be fog rising from the valley thick as smoke in a forest fire. The locals called it god’s country, and to say it is breath-taking isn't a cliché. The air is so light you can hardly breathe. The Lord above must've had a message: Nothing great is achieved without risk.

I was down to the half-way mark and wasn’t ready to gas up, but in the mountains, I try to keep it half fulI. I had turned off the radio so I’d remember to stop. All I could think about was my destination--warm desert sand, quaint adobe houses, and a new chance at life in Santa Fe. My parole officer would be out of town and by the time he returned, so would I. 

After a light snow, winding through mountains was a challenge, but the roads were clear. Overlooking gorges and small towns far below Interstate 40 was formidable, but I was running out of cash, and  it was the only safe route for drivers heading west.

After all was said and only half done, criss-crossing the country in early spring wasn’t a best decision. Weather was unpredictable, traffic even more so  because of families on spring break. I didn't want to cancel my reservation so I sped a little bit. If they caught me, I hoped it was not before I’d exhausted all my gas and all possibilities for happiness in this life. 

Call it karma, call it quits, I don’t know which caused my psychological demise, but they say you only get caught if you want it. But I didn’t want it, so they said a lie. I saw the lights and the price of gasoline, so I zig-zagged my way toward the next exit, ignored the barricades and flashing lights after making the rash decision to gas up. Who knew how far the next exit would be? All there was next to do was pray for a miracle. 

 Praying for a miracle is something I grew up with, sinning on Saturday, praying for a miracle once I sat in the pews at church on Sunday. But this was different. I didn't feel the presence of god or anyone else. I never felt so doomed and so alone. I was technically a renegade, soon to be convict. But on the other hand there might  be a chance at redemption. How would a judge know whether I saw the flashing lights or not? And with the slightest prayer, I might slide over the mountainous landscape undetected and pull a successful escape.

Then I heard the low rumble of tires skidding, looked up and witnessed a large object in the distance tumbling over the guard rails. Slowly, I circled past the exit and pulled onto an access road winding its way to the highway. In the distance, a stream of smoke was rising from underneath an overpass. I couldn't hold back my sigh of relief. It was a narrow escape.

I wondered if I wasn't also a killer. Manslaughter being what I'd be indicted for. I hoped the pursuit would be easy. I would drive as far as I could until I reached a secluded hotel or abandoned farmhouse. I would hideout for the night. There was a .25 caliber underneath important papers in the glove compartment in case I found the nerve to change my destiny once at the hotel in Santa Fe. Or if there were predators lurking in the darkness.

Overhead, there were sounds of sirens headed west on I-40, tracking the accident or chasing me. I was ready for the consequences, feeling ragtag, exhausted, and out of clues about what else to do.

(c) M.DH. Johnson. All rights reserved