When I woke up, I did not know where I was, and couldn't remember what that day of the week was. I closed my eyes and lay there motionless, hoping that some miracle would bring my old life together, with Pappy in the kitchen rattling frying pan. I wanted aroma of beacon to wake me up, as it had happened many mornings just a week ago. My soul did not wish to face the reality. I wanted nothing else. Just that old miserable life back; it was tolerable despite the difficulties of navigating the high school and the other unpleasant things which came with it. Pappy, books and the river were three pillars of my life. One and the most important among them has disappeared from my life. What lays ahead I couldn't even imagine.

A faint knock brought me out of that semi-paralyzed stage and then a strong banging woke me up. I had fallen asleep in the same outfit I wore when they took me to the juvenile center. I went out for opening the door and heard a familiar voice; that I had not heard in months.

"I wonder if she's in!"
"I told you; call before driving all the way!" A male voice responded.

I recognized both voices and opened the door and without saying a word, walked back to my room to freshen up and closed my bedroom door behind me. Two individuals were at my door and they were the last persons I wanted to interact with at that moment; my mom and her live-in man. I don't love her today and did not love her since I became old enough to feel the emotions. I don't hate her, and for that matter, hate nothing. Over the years, I have not known anyone worth loving, except my Pappy. I have neither grudges, nor affections for anyone, and must admit, I never get strong emotions about anything. I am just what I am; an unpolished, and raw personality completely indifferent to the affairs of the world. I am totally soaked in the Stoic philosophy of Seneca, one sold on the Dostoevsky's Existentialism, if you know anything about it, you may understand my mindset. You may wonder where the hell I read about this Greek Philosopher's writing? I think read his quotes in one of the works of fiction, and out of curiosity, followed his writings by checking out books from the local libraries of towns I lived in for the past two decades. There I go again, drifting away from story of Taylor Mountain saga.

My attitude towards the arrival of mom turned out to be proper; she had not arrived to see me or to console me, she and her man came in search of money and the inheritance papers. Pappy owned the Mobile Home and the capital lease of land upon which it was parked. It must be worth something to the Park Owners' Association. When I came out of my bedroom, I saw them trying to break the lock of his strong box. Pappy had given me his Colt-38 Revolver-a War Trophy to keep. I went back and picked it from the closet and surprised them with a threat:

"Get away from that box or I will shoot."

They turned around and saw me with the weapon, pointed at the man. I had no fear or panic on my face. Mom had not seen me since Christmas and had no idea what had happened to me to become a resolute woman in just few weeks.

"Honey; put that thing away! We are not doing anything but search for the papers that Dad may have kept in here for the Trailer and land; that's all."

"You can't come here; you are not welcome, and I don't need you. All his papers are in the bank, nothing valuable is here; now get out."

At the same time, Mr. Roy came in without looking up and said:

"I saw door open and stopped to check on...oh my god! What's going on?"

"Nothing, Uncle Roy, I am sending my mother back to where she came from."

"Take it easy child; put that gun aside; I am here now, and we can settle things easy way, don't do anything foolish, you will get in troubles with law again." Roy spoke with some fear in his voice.

"What police troubles? What happened? How did my dad die?"
Mother spoke with some fake concerns.

"Where were you all these months? Did you bother to see if he was alive, that you want to know how he died?"

I was not going to let her to play that role of a grieving daughter.
Things would have gone on to another level of bitterness loaded arguments when the man who had come with her spoke:

"Cut it out both of you. Your mother has certain legal rights, and we will settle this according to the law. Meanwhile, you ought to recognize that you are a minor and your mother has the custodial rights over you. For now, we will leave and return with the Sheriff to see everything is done properly and without anger. Now you don't want to have that gun in your possession if you wish to avoid arrest for pointing it at us; it is a Felony under the law. Give that weapon to Mr. Roy."

After the arrival of Mr. Roy, I was at ease, and I also became aware of the risk involved. I handed over the weapon as told and sat down. Mom and her man also sat down and to my surprise, mom burst out in a loud weeping spell. When she composed and wiped her tears, she spoke to me in a voice I had not heard since I was five or six and had moved in with Pappy. I felt bad for her; and a rare emotion that a child feels for mother rose in me. Silently got up and moved towards me. Watching her I too stood up and in silence she hugged me and kissed me on my forehead and whispered:

"I always have loved you and I know I am not been a mother that you deserved; forgive me. I have changed now. This man, Anton, is a good man; I trust him, he does not need money or this Trailer, he has a house and a garage that his uncle has left for him. He has a union job at the power plant and will take care of us. Please give me a chance to try to be your mother again, I promise you I won't let you down."

"Please leave me for now, and come alone on Wednesday, and we will talk about us and the future. I will fill you in with the details." I assured her and they left. It was eleven o'clock and Uncle Roy was standing there waiting for their departure from the street. He closed the door of the trailer and spoke in a soft voice:

"I mustn't call you 'child' anymore; at such a young age you have become a matured woman. I have some information that I need to give you and also a box that your Pappy left with me for safekeeping. Let me take you to his grave and we can speak there. When things get calm, I will give you the box."

After eating lunch at the local dinner, we reached the Spring Hill Cemetery and to the plot where Pappy is buried. The grave had settled, and the dirt was loose. I bent down and picked some and put it in the jar I had brought with me. I put a small bunch of flowers which had purchased at the Kroger on the way. I placed them on his grave and tried to pray but I couldn't recall one. I just spoke to him instead. Roy was sitting in his truck watching me. I began my conversation in these words:

"Pappy, I am sorry; couldn't come sooner; you saw me going to jail, but I am not sorry for that. I am sure you would have been proud of me for fighting for my honor. Now all that is over, and you are not here, what I should do? Nothing I want from Taylor Mountain. I have to go where life is going to take me Pappy; you know what that means; I won't be coming here to chat with you and tell you what new books I have read and all that stuff we used to do. I won't be able to keep this place clean and all that. I love you and I know you are with me as you were when I was in the cell. I got a message that you had left while I was there, but I did not grieve for you, because I am glad you were spared that pain. I am sure you would have suffered because my being in the jail and you there sitting alone at home. I hope you are at peace like I am. I promise you, nothing will make me unhappy for any reason; I am going to be a Stoic woman just like you were all your life. Well, that's one conversation for now, and I we will speak again and every day. By the way, I have a great attorney looking out for me and I believe everything will be checked and a okay." I made thumbs up sign as we used to do every night.

I stepped back and turned towards the Pickup. Uncle Roy opened the door and stepped out. As I came near, he spoke:

"Let us walk around and I will tell all that need you to know."

I nodded and we walked pass few folks near another newly departed individual's grave. When we reached to an isolated area, he began speaking:

"You may not know I alone had the privilege to come closer to your Pappy, and that's because we both served in the same Air Force squadron, of course in different times. We were bonded by the code of honor and common life experience. He spoke to me about you that he never did to anyone else. This is about your personality developing into a person who is both a male and female. He and neither I, are expert in this area to give opinions but he told me that he had a co-pilot who displayed similar characteristics, you have. I did not agree or disagree with his assumption and today also have no opinion about this. He had made his legal settlement what I think is called, 'Will' and I have the printed copy of that document and it is with the other items in the locked box.

The lawyers who handled that business have the original documents, and their contact information is in the box. I suggest you read the documents in your Trailer and decide what you wish to do or who to trust to act in your place. After that, you may return everything to me after locking the box. I am telling you again, it is up to you. As far as I know he has left the Trailer and the plot to you and I am your legal guardian until you turn 18 years old. I will do what I can as per your wish and is legally and morally right. Your mother may fight for the guardianship and again I will give it up if you think you are better off going with her. I cannot be your mother and will be difficult for me to do anything if you move out of state. So, think about it carefully. I know you will. You know how to get in touch with me when I am not at work."

I was surprised with this information and did not quite understand the legal issues involved in the custodial business. I am in control of my destiny as the poet William Earnest Henley had written in the poem, 'Invictus.' Ms. Marsha Burn, my Creative Writing teacher and I had a lengthy discussion on the central idea of this famous poem. I remember that poem even today after decades; it goes like this:

Out of the night that covers me
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstances,
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate.
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul.

Ms. Marsha Burn's explanation and comments of this poem seem to have laid the first layer of foundation of stoicism in me. She had pointed out:

"The poet has taken a stoic approach to the life he was given during the Civil War. He is convincing himself of the strength of his spirit and refusing to be broken by the circumstances and fate. Here he is declaring that his soul-spirit if you will, was 'Invictus'; a word in Latin meaning, "unconquered."

In the class that day, in silence, I vowed that I shall be one Invictus Spirit.

I went home and slept for few hours and when I woke up, it was pitched dark in the room.