The Day I Moved Out

I met a young blonde in a bar. For barely knowing each other we were hitting it off very well. She had said “if you love ethical philosophy so much, just move back in with your parents.” That sentence triggered a memory. Right in front of her my mind drifted from the present. I was reminded of a young boy...


It’s 7:26 and his alarm has been ringing for the past minute. How he hates Monday mornings. He gets up and smashes his alarm clock off. He is now stooped over, sitting on the side of his bed. He looks like he’s pouting but really, he’s just half-asleep. He has math first period this week, with gym coming at the very end of the day. Math first thing in the morning is the worst.


He hates math, and were he given a choice, would never attend another math class ever again. But he has to take grade 11 math, it is a mandatory course as defined by the government’s curriculum. Curriculum, he thinks, is just another word for dictator.


He is downstairs, eating cereal. His mother, who he knows has been up for much longer than he, comes up from the basement. Her office is down there. She says good morning, and, without hesitation, he does the same. It is only after she continues on her way upstairs that he realizes what he has done. He feels miserable this morning and instantly regrets implying otherwise by using that phrase. His mind begins to drift, a sort of escape from his uneasy stomach. He begins to wonder why it was he wished his mother a good morning. He certainly didn’t mean it. Yet, nor did he even mean to say it. It just happened, without any good reason. Another curriculum, he figures.


Suddenly he is reminded of his stomach. It is the sound of his alarm; every time he hears it he feels uneasy. It is being forced, mid dream, from bed. The alarm cuts through his dreams every weekday morning at 7:25. 7:25 because that is the latest he can wake and still make it to his 8:15 first period class. 8:15 has been chosen, again, by those same mysterious forces behind the curriculum. He feels very small in the face of all these forces in his life. All those forces which have led him to now, saying good morning with an upset stomach.


He has finished his cereal, and is now looking into his bowl of milk. His mind is blank.


He hears his mother and she seems upset. “It’s 8:20! You’re late you silly boy”. He is not sure why she is upset. This is not her decision, nor does it have any real effects on her. He is 5 minutes late for one period on one day in his grade 11 year. He does not think this decision, to stare at his milk instead of at a chalkboard, will have much influence on the outcome of the rest of his life. However, his mother seems to think otherwise. She has been good to him, and so he treats her with respect.


“I don’t mean any harm, Mom, but I just don’t feel like going today. I’ve decided to stay home.”


“Nick you’re only 17! You can’t decide things like this. I am certainly not signing an absence note for you.”


“You can decide to sign or not sign, I will not try and change your mind. All I ask is the same respect from you. I have made a decision.” She has become visibly angry. Her face is slightly red, and he can hear her breathing now.


“Don’t start with me young man. You are going to class and that’s final. Do not test me Nick.”


“Mom I’m not doing this as a test. My decision actually has nothing to do with you. It’s just that I realized today I have no reason for going. I can’t see the why.”


“Ok, fine. It is your decision to go to class or not, but know this: it’s my decision whether you can go on the computer or sleep over at AJ’s this weekend.”


Silently he gets up and gets dressed for class.


He is in math class, fighting to stay awake. His body so desperately wants to go back to sleep. As he sits, he starts to think. Again, it is a sort of escape from the situation. He wonders why his mother was so steadfast on him attending class. He wonders why the curriculum is so steadfast on him being in math. He wonders why 8:15. Why not 10:00? Why not a philosophy class? Why not let him stay home?


He wonders so much he suddenly finds himself wondering the opposites. Why not go to class? Why not math over philosophy? What is his problem with everything? These questions he finds much more interesting. The answers to these questions all seem to have something to do with a ‘just because’. For instance, why not math over philosophy can be answered because he enjoys philosophy more. The reason for this is just because. This scares him because he has always thought ‘just because’ was the answer of the dictators in his life. Perhaps life is just a series of choices, between internal and external dictators? What an interesting view on freedom, he thinks to himself.


He has returned home. He knows what he must do. He will never be free from dictators. The difference between things he wants to do and things he doesn’t isn’t the reasons why, for they are all ‘just becauses’. The difference is between internal and external dictators, so that his wants are internal dictators, with everything else coming externally. He wonders if all the external dictators in his life are the offshoot of other people’s internal ones, so that he has to study math because of other people’s internal dictates to learn math. He wonders if an internal dictator is another word for a value. All this he wonders as he packs his bags. He wonders it as he goes downstairs and knocks on his mother’s office door. He is still wondering it when he hugs her, and, thanking her for raising him, tells her he is leaving. She begins to cry and as she does his mind begins to drift, a sort of escape.