What Sam Thought
8/8/2007
Sam thought of his brother as an eagle, proud, dangerous and free. He knew Dean could focus on a prey and dive for the kill with efficiency and speed that sometimes scared him, but most times it amazed him and made him proud
Sam thought of his father as a hawk, a great hunter, also dangerous and skilled, soaring the roads for the one quarry, always alert and watchful for the clues and scents that would allow him to find its game.
Sam knew both his father and his brother were skilled hunters, something he knew himself to be good at also, but while they thrived in the thrill, Sam detested it.
Riding in the back of the Impala, Sam would cast his eyes toward the homes they past. During the daytime drives he would crane his body around to watch children playing ball and other games. He would look at the gardeners, the painters, or the group of boys and girls playing in the back yard. The sound of lawnmowers preceded the smell of fresh cut grass and the young traveler would sniff deeply, absorbing the scent of everyday life. Sam coveted these images and made them his own.
At night Sam would try to peek into the windows of the homes, to get a glimpse of families sitting around the dinner table, or relaxing while watching TV. A silent and fleeting surveyor, he would glimpse a boy sitting at his computer, a girl on the phone, mom and dad sitting, talking or reading. A small thief, he would steal part of people's lives and make them his own. A collector of fleeting images, like Lego pieces that he acquired, stacking them up, bit by bit to build his goals and dreams. Upon these did he construct the world he wanted for his own, a world he planned on creating once he was old enough to get away.
He would wonder about the people in their homes. What were the brothers and sisters doing? Were they getting ready to go to birthday party? What would it be like to go to a movie with a bunch of friends, to stop for a pizza or ice cream afterwards? What would it feel like to take a girl on a date? How soft would her lips feel when they kissed good night? Clutching his desires close to his aching chest, Sam would fall asleep and dream of homes with the smell of fresh baked cookies, of Sundays with family outings and picnics, of football played in the backyards and the soft, warm bed of his own room.
These were the imaginings of Sam on those long rides in the Impala when they traveled from job to job, from town to town, from motel to motel, never too long in one place.
Sam knew his brother was an eagle, spirited and unbound, who would fiercely protect him and watch over him. He knew his father was a hawk, always pursuing an obscure and dangerous prey, driven by a need that ate at him day and night. Both were hunters, both restless, needing to move constantly. But Sam knew he was a different. He wasn't a bird, he didn't want to fly, he just wanted to be able to stay still. He desired sitting and reading a book by a lamp or walking in a home that he knew was all his own, with his own things and his own life filling the rooms. He wanted a yard where he could sit after a long day at work and relax while watching the sun set or barbeque dinner for friends.
As the years went by Sam's hunger for a settled life grew. The chimera built with his fantasy would finally begin to form an image that he could focus on and start realizing. All he needed was a bit more time and a bit more education.
Sam had promised himself a long time ago that he would break away from his unwanted life and start creating one he did want. At 18, clutching a letter promising to change his life, Sam took his first step toward that dream.