Aurora Magazine 2020

Aurora

Skaters Carve Memories Across Region Trail (The Journey) Ronald Brewer

My wheels snap a branch into pieces. I propel my longboard with a kick, kick, kick, kick, coast and the wind is heavy. My hair tingles against my skin as goosebumps form. Sweat drips and blood pumps and my heart beats throughout my body. “This is what feeling alive must be,” I said. It’s just the three of us wasting away the hot summer days, me, my brother Bryce, and my best friend Anthony. I have been longboarding for about seven years, but Bryce has been riding even longer. Anthony is just starting out, but he remains composed. That is until he falls off rolling into the pavement. Smart move to roll into your fall and remain with the momentum to prevent serious injury. “You alright?” I ask. “I’m already figuring it out,”he says. “Just give me some time and we’ll be cruising for real.” Bryce supports Anthony as he gets back on his board. I’m amazed at how he endures the pain, both physical and mental, over and over again. He’s always been good at doing this even before going to the Air Force. I guess this side of him has always been a mystery. I think I really started to question it after the funeral. I barely remember the church. Who did I even ride with? I do know it was around 7th or 8th grade when Anthony’s Dad died. Mr. Banks was always quiet. A man with limited words but when the words came out all ears perked up. He had a little scruffy beard, wore these wired glasses, and walked with a long gentle stride. The walk of a man who knew his purpose. A man who definitely cared for his family’s well-being and success. Then, in an instant, he was sick. I didn’t find out until it was almost too late. By this point, Mr. Banks was comatose, brain dead. And I remember the faces at the funeral: solemn. No breeze, no birds singing, and no sun shining. Only silent tears, held hands, and aching hearts remained as Mr. Banks was lowered into the ground. His daughter would soon graduate. His son would soon be a freshman in high school. And Anthony maintained a stoic face. Unfazed as he helped carry his father’s casket. Years later I would understand.

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