Weathering; Life's Storms

By Peter C. Geelan

In this magical book of feelings, it's like opening a treasure chest full of different emotions - the sad ones, the happy ones, and the ones that make you think. As you read along, you won't just find a story; you'll meet a boy named Peter. This isn't just a regular book; it's a trip through rainbows, storms, and the crazy twists of life. It teaches us that even when things seem really tough, and you feel stuck like in a muddy pond, the only person who can help you is you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter C. Geelan
• Release date: Dec 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223343882

Book preview

Chapter 01: Beginning With the Birth of My Sister

Ever heard that saying about how no one wants you to outshine them, except your dad? Parents usually hype their kids up, but in my world, my old men got the trophy for the most selfish, careless, and all-around worst dad ever. My mom is also not the best mom in the world.

She's got this gift of gab – or maybe not. Can't say she's a smooth talker, that's a fact. Her mind? It's like a dumpster dive of trash ideas. She's on this next level of bizarre thinking about the world and the folks around her that just don't make sense. And what do my trash parents have to offer their kids? Oh, well, there’s a list. Which is blank!

Mom's a yelling pro, especially at me, and for what? Never got a chance to drop my side of the story. She stayed cheesed at someone, and I couldn't crack why she hated on me when I was a young child, not a worry in the world from my parents, not even once. It's truly puzzling, you know?

Talking about my folks' is as awkward as Deadpool breaking the fourth wall. But seriously, the love and care at home were scarcer than spotting Waldo in a Where's Waldo book. It was like looking for Nemo in the vast ocean – you knew he was out there somewhere, but finding him? Now that was a challenge.

Back in the era of Ronald Wilson Reagan running the show, redefining the good old' American Dream with that Republican flair. The Cold War was in full swing, and the world was doing this epic global war. Picture this: thousands of homes where folks were hungering for life's basics. It was a time, man.

It was the period when people were not that much socially awakened as compared to the timesheet of now, masses were crushed economically under the quarrels of giants. I was living in the constraints of a one-room cabin that also housed my family during such social terrain.

The house that stood out the most was our modest residence, a small place that clearly conveyed, Hey, we're on a tight budget! Most kids in the area had the Wonder Bread bags for waterproof boot liners, but we could not afford name brand anything.  Poverty was carved into every nook and cranny like it was street art. I was wrestling with the whole living large in our minds but broke in reality situation. It was like dreaming big in a shack where the gap between what we wished for and what we had was wider than the Grand Canyon.

I'm Peter, the solo act in my family until recently. This is where my story kicks off, and let me tell you, it's been straight-up misery and agony. Now, usually being the firstborn comes with perks, but nah, not in my world. My folks were young, dumb, and riding that wild wave of their twenties. Instead of the good stuff, they served me a plate of inconvenience, struggle, and zero joy.

I was blissfully unconscious of the impending change that would change the direction of my life forever, but I could feel the anticipation in the air that evening. I had no idea that this night would be the last as the only child in our family.

Unbeknownst to me, my mother was on the verge of welcoming a new life into our family as her tummy grew with the promise of a new life. This was a tradition that originated in households where the birth of a child was welcomed with delight and celebration, but in our case, there was little cause for such elation.

Our family was about to become a quartet with her impending arrival—my father, my mother, myself, and now, my baby sister. Little did I know that this new member would bring both difficulties and unanticipated joy, forever changing the course of my life and the dynamics of our family. A ray of hope in what had frequently felt like a hopeless existence would arrive in the form of a baby sister within hours. The Heather I would get to know would always have a particular place in my heart; our relationship would endure the hardships of our common upbringing.

I awoke gradually as the early light peaked through my eyes, finding my surroundings to be unchanging and familiar. Unknowingly, I was soon welcoming a female sibling, but the dazzle of joy was just outside, only if it existed. As I started to wake myself from sleep, I suddenly realized that not everything was going exactly as it should. I started feeling unsafe and scared because someone else was sleeping with me. There was someone, possibly a stranger because I had not seen who was lying next to me, but one thing was that I was aware that he or she was not my mother. And it’s because I was closely familiar with the aroma of my mother and my nose was not identifying that smell of the one beside me. The fear overwhelmed me and I started to cry, and that is when my grandmother rolled over and greeted me with a good morning, Peter. So, I suddenly rose up and tried to see who was with me in place of my mother. I was scared, but instead of being feared anymore, I got calm and comfortable after seeing Grandma alongside me. The date was May 11, 1983, when I was becoming the brother of a little sister, and actually, it was an occasion when numberless untold accidents and incidents were going to unfold because my life was committed itself to be restless for me.

We bounced around from our condemned cabin on Pine Street, to a trailer on Bayville Road, finally putting down roots on South Shore Road. I was barely hitting kindergarten, but even at that age, I knew my parents weren't able to get a mortgage – they were doing owner-financing. Dad was in full-on remodel mode, and his tools were practically the house's roommates. Stacks of sheet rock were stacked up against the desk, in the dining room, giving the home a feel of constant chaos and disorder. Little me, a hyperactive kiddo, comes across this pile of sheetrock. It's blocking my drawer access, so I decide to give it a nudge. Not on purpose, but turns out, I pushed it a bit too hard. Next thing I know, the pile's doing a nosedive, and I'm playing superhero trying to stop it. I lost that battle. The sheetrock avalanche flipped me and crushed my arm. I don't remember much, except rocking a white cast for Halloween in preschool because that whole incident snapped both bones in my right arm. And so began my childhood saga of hospital beds and healing from constant injuries.

Life's this mix, highs and lows, ups and downs, right? It's never all sunshine or all storms; there's a bit of both in the pot. Now, PA, he was like the MVP of goodness. He was the patriarch of the family, the reason we all huddled up for holidays and just random days throughout the year. One of his moves was this tradition – every Friday, we'd go to the Old Lonesome Lodge for dinner. A big table, just waiting for us. It could be the six of us, my family and grandparents, or it could turn into a party with like 20 heads at times. PA was all about keeping the fam together, not every time, but pretty darn often.

Chapter 02: Facing the Unimaginable

This charming little town is nestled between rolling hills and backed by deep woodlands near the Adirondack mountains and the Great Sacandaga Lake. The old corner store, a true relic, had been providing essential supplies to generations of tourists, and the community center was wafting the sweet scent of freshly made pancakes. Each building was like a living history book, recounting tales of my upbringing in the tiny hamlet of Fish House.

When life got a bit too overwhelming, my escape was tearing through the neighborhood, savoring every bit of what I had. Winds tousling my hair, sun caressing my face – those moments were the