A Peasant's Start

"Do not act as if you were going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over you. While you live, while it is in your power, be good."

― Marcus Aurelius

My life passed by me like a haze.

From the time I could remember, it was just me and my mother.

She was a loving and caring woman.

In our circumstances, with no father in sight, she provided me with all she could offer.

Her one small wish was for me to escape the confines of our broken reality and soar far beyond the low social status and upbringing I was given.

The earliest memories with her are the times she would read stories to me. 

She would whisper in my ear just like a spell,

Telling me about the great heroes who left their names in history, dark villains who harbored endless hatred for the world, and even those who quietly watched these two sides partake in an endless power struggle. 

In our dilapidated apartment, I slowly grew up with a kindling of hope in my heart, and building slight wisdom in my mind. 

At a young age I realized the situation that my I was in, was not great. 

My Mother would leave deep in the night and only return as dawn broke.

She would appear with a multitude of bruises or wounds.

But as she saw me a waiting by the door, a small smile would bloom upon her worn out face. 

Many times, illnesses took hold of her body from this lifestyle,

And as time passed living in this fashion, her health began to slowly deteroiate before my eyes. 

As the months became years, the struggle continued.

I began attending school. 

I soon understood the difference between others and myself.

While they would have people around them, supporting their every move...

I was alone.

As a child, learning how different your situation is compared to others is a memorable experience. 

The sadness I felt through this time stuck with me like a curse.

In those early years, I often found myself retreating into the stories on my phone, just like the ones Mother used to read to me.

The fantastical tales became my sanctuary, and my imagination was a place that allowed me to be anyone and achieve anything.

I imagined myself as a knight, wielding a sword against the forces of darkness, or a wisened scholar, uncovering the secrets of the universe.

These fantasies provided a stark contrast to the harsh realities I faced in my daily life.

I clung to them desperately.

School was a battleground of its own.

The other children, with their shiny shoes and packed lunches, seemed like creatures from another world in comparison to myself.

I envied their carefree laughter, and the way they took their parents' presence for granted.

My clothes were worn, my pockets were empty, and my lunches sparse.

But I carried my Mother's hopes with me, using them as a shield against the mocking glances and insults.

Despite the odds, I excelled in my studies.

Knowledge became my refuge and my weapon, against those who ridiculed me.

I devoured all types of books, finding solace in the certainty of facts and the possibilities of new ideas. 

The internet became my new favorite place. 

With an endless amount of information at my fingertips, I became enraptured. 

The amount of time spent scouring the web for information was just behind the time I spent on my studies.

Teachers took notice of this and praised me as a savant,

and for a while, I felt seen and valued beyond my circumstances.

But even as I achieved academic success...

I couldn't escape the reality of my home life.

My mother's condition had begun to worsen over these years.

Her once vibrant spirit dimmed to a flickering light, as cancer begun to ravage her small body.

The small acts of kindness that she once would bestow on me grew fewer as she struggled to manage even the simplest of tasks.

I took on more responsibilities, doing everything possible to make it easier for her.

Every day was a balancing act, teetering on the edge of despair and hope.

High school came, and with it, I had to face new challenges.

The social divide became even more apparent.

I continued to excel academically, but socially, I was an outcast.

My peers would not associate with someone who had nothing to offer.

I watched those around me party, love, and laugh. 

Even the times I was invited to go out, I promptly declined due to me being the caretaker of my mom.

Those around me couldn't understand the weight I carried, and I didn't have the energy to explain.

As mother's health continued to decline, and the financial strain grew unbearable on our household.

I began taking on part-time jobs, doing whatever I could to bring in some extra money.

Each dollar earned felt like a victory, a small step toward the life my mother had dreamed of.

Then, on a hot summer day,

She was gone.

The light that had guided in the darkness was extinguished.

Her passing left a void that no amount of money earned could fill.

I was lost in a sea of grief, ebbing and flowing with the tides of despair.

When as I stood at atop her grave, I made a silent vow.

I would honor her memory by achieving the dreams she had for me.

Years continued to pass, and I pushed forward with a determination fueled anger and indignation.

I earned scholarships and eventually graduated from University with top honors in my class.

My business career took off after College, and I achieved a level of success that would have made those that tormented my mother tremble with despair at the mention of my name.

But with all this, the emptiness still lingered.

It was constant reminder sacrifices made for my achievements.

I thought a family life would fix the hole in my heart.

But the grim reality was that no one looked at me for who I was, but more for what I could offer.

After my wife and children started to live lavishly, I slowly retreated into the background of their lives.

I spent all my time focused solely on deepening my knowledge and understanding of the world.

Over time, I developed real skillsets and knowledge about many things.

Ranging from facets of relationships and human nature, martial arts, geography, hunting, cartography...

You name it and I delved in it.

But time waits for no one.

Years slipped by once more, and as my body began to fade, I focused on sharpening my mind. 

That did not stop the inevitable from coming. 

As I lay on my deathbed, memories of my life flashed before my eyes, faster than I could grasp.

My mother's face, the knowledge gained, the women loved, my haughty children, and those child-like fables that inspired me to attempt at becoming something more than average.

The loneliness, the struggles, the triumphs.

I felt a strange sense of peace, knowing that I had lived up to her dreams.

At the ripe age of 80, my consciousness began to fade, and new sensation took over.

A light, warm and inviting, enveloped me.

I felt a pull, a call to something beyond.

In that moment, I understood.

My journey wasn't ending; it was beginning anew.