Boyhood

Confidently, we spilled out through the tree line onto the mown grass that abutted the cornfield. There must have been four or five of us, I can’t recall, free from adult oversight, at least temporarily. We looked around and surveyed the uniform rows of corn with the same enthusiasm as a band of marauding raiders entering a defenseless village. There was no one could stop us from exerting our will: peeing on the corn stalks, snatching the ears and ripping them away to throw at one another, felling the stalks and trampling them underneath our Keds with the white tube socks partially covering our pasty mosquito bite-covered legs, the cut off Wrangler shorts hanging down mid-thigh, Philadelphia Phillies or Def Leppard t-shirts a little sweaty from the romp through the woods. The sun high, shone upon us and we shone upon the world and upon each other.

No one could stop us. That was important. We could interrupt this carefully planned corn growing operation at our own pleasure, the hidden seed of all men and boys: to do and make as we wish or, if not possible, then to undo and unmake; or, again if not within reach, then to attach ourselves to some stronger figure who seems to have a force or a strength inviting enough to our needs. If Doug told us to stop destroying the corn, then we would. If he said break more, than we would. If a man came around the corner and chased us, then we would run back into the woods, inspired and sure of our abilities to run and jump, climb if necessary.

No one came and no direction from Doug was given. Perhaps this place is haunted. We ascribe the absence of evident rules and authority to supernatural forces. Perhaps it’s an old, abandoned farmhouse inhabited by ghosts that grow and eat the corn every summer; a chance of being punished by Spirits if we trespassed further, a haunting not in anyone’s plans or desires. We wound down our pillaging, our boyish destruction, wanton energy and inchoate manifestations, retreating back through the forest, shaking sticks and throwing rocks; me somewhat vigilant for any signs of pursuit from Spirits or living beings, guilty feelings regarding our transgressions, a blended brew of doubt and confidence, fear and wonder in Boyhood.