Page 16 of Truck Off

The sparsity of furniture makes the space look so much bigger than it did before I started this project. My chest tightens at the emptiness. I’m happy that I finally have a place to call my own, but this isn’t how I’d always imagined it.

I pictured a home full of life, a family—a wife and kids.

What do I have? A bed.

Not exactly the dream life I’d always wanted for myself.

I scrub my hands over my face and push the negative thoughts aside. Thinking about that shit never does me any good anyway. Best to smile and hope for something better.

While I’m waiting for my coffee, I grab a couple of eggs to fry up and pop a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. A quick egg sandwich will be enough to hold me over until I finish my morning chores.

The coffee maker beeps before the toaster pops, so I pour myself a mug. As soon as the hot liquid hits my throat, I feel better.

Once my stomach is full and I’ve had my caffeine fix, I grab my guitar and head to the balcony just off the dining area.

I take a seat and glance out at the horizon. The faint glow of the sun is lighting up the night sky just over the rolling hills. It won’t be long before the sun pushes the darkness away for another day.

I strum my guitar and play a simple melody. It’s a tune I can’t name but one I recall vividly from my childhood. My mom used to hum it, and it’s the only good memory I have of her.

I close my eyes, play a few notes, and allow myself to imagine what my life would’ve been like had Mom been different. What would things be like had she not been a drug addict and chosen her addiction over her sons?

It’s not something I let myself dwell on for long, but I give in to the fantasy for a few moments every day.

Then I push her out of my mind and get to work.

* * *

I head down to the stables beneath my new apartment to take care of the large animals first. We don’t keep many—a couple of horses, two pigs, and four goats.

I’m still not sure why I added the goats. They’re nothing but trouble. But they quickly became my favorite pets. They’re fun and seem more like my children most days than useless farm animals.

We also have a few dozen chickens. I’ve been told my eggs are the best in three counties. We keep what we will eat, and I sell the rest to a few local grocers. They’re always asking me for more.

The moment I slide the stable doors open, the goats begin their morning baas and bleats. I keep them in the front two stalls, closest to the exit.

“Good morning boys and girl.” I call out as I open the first door. The boys rush to me like a pack of dogs. I have three rowdy boys in this stall and one sweet girl in the next.

Ramsey, the most playful of the boys, greets me first. He’s jumping around next to the gate like the floor is on fire. I chuckle at his excitement and reach over the edge to pet him behind his ears.

“Calm down, Rams. I’ll get you outside in a minute where you can run off some of that energy.”

Before I’m able to get the gate all the way open, a head rams me in the ass. I don’t need to look to know it’s Butthead. He’s the troublemaker of the group.

“Yo, Butthead. Enough with the ass ramming.” I turn around to find him looking up at me with the most innocent look on his face. I swear if he could speak, he’d insist it wasn’t him. I slide the next stall open where I keep Tilly.

“Hugo! Tilly!” I call out for the other two to join us since they still haven’t come out. “Come on, kids. Let’s get you guys outside.”

Hugo comes running out next. He’s not as rowdy or playful as the other two, but he follows the pack. If Ramsey or Butthead start trouble, he usually jumps in and joins them.

Tilly pokes her head around the side first and looks like she’s making sure it’s clear before she joins us. She keeps to herself more than the other three. She tends to chill and hang back rather than join them in their gallivanting ways.

They all know exactly where to go once we’re outside. The boys race ahead of me toward the gate while Tilly walks beside me, nuzzling her nose into my hand as we walk.

“What is it, sweet girl?” I run my hand down her neck and back and she lets out a low baa. “The boys driving you nuts?”

She lets out a bleat as if to say yes. I chuckle. “I know, but we still love them. They mean well. Most days.”

After making sure they have fresh water and hay, I head back inside to take care of my horses, Sunny and Amber. They’re both Quarter Horses. Sunny is a buckskin with a few dark patches around his neck, while Amber is a sorrel. They both have dark manes and tails that make their coats look brighter.

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