The idea of love at first sight is a ridiculous notion, but I knew instantly this person before me would be someone I would eventually love. It was a matter of obtaining all the details of her life. Once that occurred there would be no turning back.
My name is Lucas Randerson. I was born 1990 on a small farm in Central Florida. I was educated up until the 10th grade and then I began working for my father. My dad, Lucas Randerson Sr. owned an orange grove. I started off working in the fields and learning about the harvest. I couldn’t communicate too well with a lot of the employees on account of they couldn't speak much English. As I grew older and matured more responsibility was delegated my way. As I look back some of my best memories came from being out on the fields goofing off. As my dad got sicker the more the business demanded my maturity.
One year while I was on vacation I met a girl named Jenny. I was crazy about her from the get-go. She was a Southern girl from Alexandria, Louisiana. I sought after marrying her from the moment I learned her name and that’s just what I did. She moved out to Florida and we began running my fathers business together.
One year a terrible disease spread throughout the fields and all the produce failed to grow. With a gloomy financial situation and a marriage going sour my morale was at an all-time low.
In the summer of 2019 Jenny and I divorced. We had two young children and I felt terrible inside for they’d never know what it meant to be a family.
For the most part this is my story. I’d like to take it day by day if you’re interested in listening.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
It feels nice to be home. I'm not use to having this much time to myself. I really needed this time to recharge my batteries. I'm anxious to put back on my uniform and arrive at Diego Garcia. I wonder much about what's in store for me. I'm still trying to become a linguist.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
She walked the deck of the ship
five years ago planning the act
of robbing me of all I was worth.
I dream of her hands around my neck
while I lay in the damp sand and the chilled
sea numbing the tips of my toes.
It’s the brunettes that look best undressed
and she’s slowly slipping into coveralls
now tightly gripping a sledgehammer.
On the coffee table is the New York Times
which I read every Sunday with breakfast
and a tall glass of orange juice.
On an all white porcelain plate is my heart
stolen out my chest and it’s still beating
taking a beating as she swings life away.