Exit God Out - Book One - The Unexpected Terrestrial

Exit God Out Book One: The Unexpected Terrestrial - Chapter 6

Chapter 6   Dec 9 1998

There was no denying Boulder shows were always Jackson's best. Colorado crowds proved more receptive and responded in larger numbers than many of the big cities he had booked. There was one other reason for Jackson to pencil in Boulder as a favorite, however.

The courier company loaded the last of the few remaining crates of precious stones, metals and creativity left over from the exhibition. Jackson paid the bill and as the last box disappeared on the conveyor belt destined for Canada, he sat silent for a second to say thank you. His emotions were mixed. He would miss the camaraderie of his friends, especially Sean, who stood by him through a difficult decision, and the others who fill in the holes of his life with laughter and memories. Yes, he would see them again, but he now faced many months of rebuilding his work over the winter, which meant going home and reclaiming the recluse lifestyle of a solo artist. It was the challenge of his career, and he was far better at speaking about it than balancing it. A change was in the wind, one he knew he needed to face.

As he drove away from the parcel express, the next year of decisions began to brew. A trip to Sechelt on the BC coast would renew his fervor for his craft, but then again, heading back to his home on Bowen Island meant he could spend time with his mother, Diane Sparrow. Bowen was a stunning sanctuary just off the BC mainland in the Pacific Ocean, accessible only by ferry and home to over three thousand people, but when Diane visited, it felt as if they were the only two inhabitants. Yes, that's what he would do. Spend time with the one person he could be away from for weeks and months, and never feel any tension or drama. But mothers and sons were often like that, and Diane raised him to be independent and brave. Jackson thought he was the luckiest son alive, and Diane believed the blessing to be hers.

After that, when the weather turned and the days lengthened, a spring expedition would take him back to the U.S. to see his father, Martin Brown. Then pack up the boys again at the University and head back to Colorado for their annual April 1st camping fiasco. There it was, completed in minutes, the entire year organized on a false sense of security.

He drove through the night with the radio up full volume and a coffee stop every few hours. It was a long trip alone, and the thought of his "good deed" ebbed and flowed through his conscience as he wound his way through mountain passes of snow and deep valleys of dying grasses and high creeks. Winter's fury was hiding around every corner, but this trip he was to miss it completely. The drive was sweet, and the odd surprise of yearling bear cubs and late fawns dotted the highways. A very long day later, he drove onto the ferry at Bowen Island. "Home," he thought. "A place of familiarity but in a good way." As he drove up the densely wooded driveway and turned the truck off, he went straight for the door, cursing the key for not unlocking it in a timely manner, and grabbed the phone. He replayed a gentle, familiar voice message over and over.

"Jackson Brown Sparrow. I can only assume the drive home has captured you somehow. Take all the time you need son. I'm not going anywhere. Call when you get in."

One touch of the redial button and Diane was on the other end. There was so much to say, so many events to sort through, and his long drive was not helping. When she answered, he spoke as if a floodgate had just released. Every detail was captured with the same passion it originated from, including his winning straw. And to Dianne's surprise, he described a girl he saw briefly at his show that matched a recurring lifelong dream.

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