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When my grandpa was a teenager, around 15, he found himself driving a tractor down an old dirt road, wondering about his future. He thought about if he'd marry and have kids, and how that would be. He wondered what kind of jobs he'd take. Would he stay on the farm in North Dakota, or would he go to college and end up in the city, possibly in another state? Would he have grand kids? If so, how would they turn out?
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Note: I want this piece in the memoir to "break the fourth wall" in a way. I just don't know where it would fit. And it does reference writings I haven't posted yet, but are currently drafts. I also added a completely random story I was reminded of when I was looking through some old pictures. It's more of an anecdote more than anything, but it's definitely memoir-worthy in my eyes. It's actually an introduction to the side of my life I haven't really touched on yet in any memoir writings, which is the farm life.
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Note: Very rough and unpolished, but still centered around a topic.
My dad started teaching me how to drive when I was 14 years old. We were visiting family out on the farm in Minnesota, and he wanted me to drive. We had driven up from our home in Colorado, to the little farming community just northwest of Rochester, Minnesota, for my cousin Andy’s high school graduation party.
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For almost two years, I haven't been feeling myself. I've been sick, underweight, and overall just not where I used to be. However, that's all about to change.
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