Erix Alexander, the boy with the bright blue eyes like the ocean and the brown hair that rolled like the sea, the boy who each morning woke his grandfather up and introduced himself, placed a list on the kitchen counter, tied up his grass stained shoes, and marched to school.
Erix Alexander, the boy who stood up for the girl with the long sleeves pulled over her wrists and baggy clothing hiding underneath, the boy who calmed her with a soothing hand and listened to the stories of her scars, who walked her back to her haunted house, who was only known by the one he longed to protect, returned back to the fields and kept a sharp eye on the horse gate because more times than not his grandfather forgot to attach the latch. He’d throw his books on the ground, grab the lassos off the wall, sprint into the surrounding patches of thick brown trucks with red, yellow, and brown leaves ready to plummet into the dirt, and pursue the white stallions prancing around, blowing up dust, and getting their lovely coats filthy.
Erix Alexander, the boy who fed the abandoned calves with the same bottle his grandfather used with him, the boy who would hide his memories if only he had them, who stole his grandfather’s whiskey and hid it under his bed for a time he might need it, peered over at the school book with a permission slip hanging out of the cover, contemplating having his grandfather sign it.
Erix Alexander, the boy who threw around hay bales with ease, the boy whose only loyal companion lay in the loft nursing her kittens, couldn’t put off returning back to his home, reintroducing himself to his grandfather, sitting alone on the comforter he was dropped off in, a full bottle of whiskey under the bed, and wrote a list of what needed to be done that he would leave on the kitchen counter for a man he’d have to reintroduce himself to.