A Beautiful Tragedy

When I woke up for the last time in my wonderful bed in New York City, the first thought I thought of was how much respect I had lost for my parents. I couldn't believe they were dragging me to Kentucky, after I specifically made it clear to them of how much I hated the country. I am a city boy. Always had been, always will be, never will I ever want to live the 'Cowboy Lifestyle.'

See, we had to move to Kentucky because that's where my 94 year old grandmother lived, and she wasn't doing too well. We moved so we could take care of her and make the rest of her long life great, but at that time I was feeling pretty selfish and I just wanted to stay in New York.

The first words that came out of my mothers mouth when I went downstairs for breakfast was "Are you ready to leave?"

"No. I didn't eat." I replied with no emotion. I wasn't ready to deal with my parents at that moment.

"What do you mean you haven't eaten? It's noon, Jordan!" I heard my dads voice trail in from the hallway into the kitchen.

"Well my body is on a schedule. I can't just say 'Wake up body,' and I'll magically be wide awake. Its this whole ordeal when you wake up." I spoke, defending my procrastination of getting up in the morning.

"Excuses, excuses." I heard my mothers mumble as she walked back into the hallway to grab some more bags to put by the front door. "Eat and get dressed. Hurry up too, I don't want to miss our flight."