It's fall.
It's 2011.
You're mom just died and your biggest concern prior to that was the political shit sandwich Mitt Romney just served you.
Your mom's last words to you were "You walk like your father." Stings' "Fields of Gold" played faintly on the clock radio by her hospital bed.
Your bros gf wants to set you up with a friend of hers. You're not interested but, a wingman has duties.
Your date is a stunner but, also a feminist vegetarian. You try to keep your disinterest polite. You fail.
It's Fall.
It's 2012.
Your phone won't stop buzzing and ringing with calls and texts from the feminist vegetarian. You've been with other girls, you've told her to move on, but she wont. She comes to your door. Tears in her eyes. She says she wants to have your child. Says she wants to be a family. But she would be happy if you just give her a child.
It's Fall.
It's 2013.
You're at the baby store shopping for cribs and changing tables with your bloated pregnant wife. You're trying to remember how you ended up here. You're wondering who can get you a convincing fake ID. You hear Hawaii is beautiful this time of year. But the feminist vegetarian has learned to accept your lead and she makes you a steak almost every night now.
It's Fall.
It's 2016.
It's 3:12 am on a Thursday morning.
You just woke up from a nightmare alone in a Sarasota hotel room. You need 14 modules to complete your certification for a job that less than 400 people in America can do. Long brutal hours, lots of travel but, you can't pass on that salary.
In the nightmare your wife and toddler daughter had been in some kind of accident. Your daughter was crying and your wife had blood on her abdomen. You don't know it yet, but, your wife just miscarried what would've been your son. You waited till 7am, her time, to call her. You knew something was wrong but she wouldn't tell you.
It's Fall.
It's 2018.
You came home from Phoenix to find your wife and 5 year old daughter crocheting a onesie, some tiny mittens and booties.
It's Fall.
It's 2020.
Philadelphia sucks.
No seriously, its worse than fucking Boise and all you want to do is go home to your family.
It's Fall.
It's 2022.
You've buried your niece, your uncle and mother-in-law this year.
You're at the hospital with your younger daughter because she can't breathe. Staff keeps asking you to leave the room but you won't. You tell them you'll go to jail before you let them vaccinate to your family. You break a chair that you'll end up paying for later but, at least they know you're serious. They dont ask you to leave again.
It's Fall
It's 2024.
You're at McDonald Observatory with your family to see the eclipse. While your wife buys tickets you lean close to your daughters ears and whisper " Can I tell you a secret?"
They nod.
You say " Don't tell mommy but, I'm in love with her and I want her to have my babies."
On the drive home your wife grabs your free hand pulls it to her belly and gives you THAT look. Fields of Gold comes on the radio. Younger daughter stretches to touch your shoulder from the backseat and says "You walk like your father."
It's 2011.
You're mom just died and your biggest concern prior to that was the political shit sandwich Mitt Romney just served you.
Your mom's last words to you were "You walk like your father." Stings' "Fields of Gold" played faintly on the clock radio by her hospital bed.
Your bros gf wants to set you up with a friend of hers. You're not interested but, a wingman has duties.
Your date is a stunner but, also a feminist vegetarian. You try to keep your disinterest polite. You fail.
It's Fall.
It's 2012.
Your phone won't stop buzzing and ringing with calls and texts from the feminist vegetarian. You've been with other girls, you've told her to move on, but she wont. She comes to your door. Tears in her eyes. She says she wants to have your child. Says she wants to be a family. But she would be happy if you just give her a child.
It's Fall.
It's 2013.
You're at the baby store shopping for cribs and changing tables with your bloated pregnant wife. You're trying to remember how you ended up here. You're wondering who can get you a convincing fake ID. You hear Hawaii is beautiful this time of year. But the feminist vegetarian has learned to accept your lead and she makes you a steak almost every night now.
It's Fall.
It's 2016.
It's 3:12 am on a Thursday morning.
You just woke up from a nightmare alone in a Sarasota hotel room. You need 14 modules to complete your certification for a job that less than 400 people in America can do. Long brutal hours, lots of travel but, you can't pass on that salary.
In the nightmare your wife and toddler daughter had been in some kind of accident. Your daughter was crying and your wife had blood on her abdomen. You don't know it yet, but, your wife just miscarried what would've been your son. You waited till 7am, her time, to call her. You knew something was wrong but she wouldn't tell you.
It's Fall.
It's 2018.
You came home from Phoenix to find your wife and 5 year old daughter crocheting a onesie, some tiny mittens and booties.
It's Fall.
It's 2020.
Philadelphia sucks.
No seriously, its worse than fucking Boise and all you want to do is go home to your family.
It's Fall.
It's 2022.
You've buried your niece, your uncle and mother-in-law this year.
You're at the hospital with your younger daughter because she can't breathe. Staff keeps asking you to leave the room but you won't. You tell them you'll go to jail before you let them vaccinate to your family. You break a chair that you'll end up paying for later but, at least they know you're serious. They dont ask you to leave again.
It's Fall
It's 2024.
You're at McDonald Observatory with your family to see the eclipse. While your wife buys tickets you lean close to your daughters ears and whisper " Can I tell you a secret?"
They nod.
You say " Don't tell mommy but, I'm in love with her and I want her to have my babies."
On the drive home your wife grabs your free hand pulls it to her belly and gives you THAT look. Fields of Gold comes on the radio. Younger daughter stretches to touch your shoulder from the backseat and says "You walk like your father."
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@ChadleyDudebro For some reason your story brought this song to mind
