Welcome to my world

Jackson stands by the window, looking out. His gaze is lost in the picturesque landscape that unfolds before him. Like many here in San Diego, it's another warm, sunny day that bathes the city in a golden mid-afternoon light. Yet, the eastern-facing bedroom where the young man stands remains untouched by the sun's beams. Instead, the brilliance falls upon the canyon, and the illuminated houses perched on the opposite side stare back at him like silent, curious strangers. At this moment, he comes to the unsettling realization that despite spending almost his entire life in this neighborhood, he knows nothing about the families across from his own. He has never once wondered about the lives hidden beyond those walls. Could they be families just like his, with kids his age? This canyon between them feels like the broadest ocean, separating two disconnected worlds. He ponders the irony of this geographical proximity and the emotional distance. But it's too late now to bridge that chasm. For as long as Jackson could remember, the view from his window had been a source of solace. The sprawling, lush canyon, with its wild mix of shrubs, cacti, and trees, provides a serene contrast to their neighborhood's crowded, noisy streets. Each spring, bursts of yellow blossoms erupt from the cacti, a fleeting display of beauty amid the arid terrain. A tall, solitary palm tree stands like a sentinel guarding the canyon's access. Majestic eucalyptus trees sway gently, whispering their secrets to the breeze.  Throughout their childhood, he and his brother Scott were forbidden to explore the untamed playground below, no matter how enticing and mysterious it might seem. The steep slopes made it a treacherous descent, and the threat of rattlesnakes added a layer of fear that loomed over their youthful curiosity. Their parents warned them cryptically about the "Many dangers," leaving the boys with more questions than answers. Now, his eyes drift back to the clear blue sky above. Not a cloud in sight. Days like this, he thought, should be enough to mend broken spirits and renew hope. But why wasn't anything better? Slowly turning from the window, Jackson leans against the frame and scans his room. The familiar space witnessed his transition from a boy to a man. He wonders if Scott will still want this room when he's gone. Jackson surprised his family two years ago when he decided to continue to live here and attend San Diego State University. His decision, which had seemed logical to him, had left Scott disappointed and somewhat irritated. Scott had begged him to "go and see the world," calling him a "neat freak" and a "loser" for staying close to home. But Jackson knew Scott's real motivation: he coveted the bigger room with its better view. The brothers had always been different. They differed in outlook and what they wanted from life. Jackson often wished they were closer, that their constant bickering had been replaced with a mutual appreciation. He knew their parents were more demanding of Scott, the younger of the two, and hoped that, somehow, Scott would forgive him and comfort the couple in the tough times to come. His eyes land on the envelope resting on his desk. It will be the first thing they see when they enter the room. Well, the second. His bedroom, with its immaculate order, reflects his personality. His mom always praises his neatness, joking, "One less thing for me to do," loud enough, pointedly aimed at Scott. Jackson prefers simplicity, and the room comprises the essentials: a bed, two nightstands, a desk, and a bookshelf. On the walls hang two framed photos. One features a striking sunset over La Jolla with a lone surfer silhouetted against the sky. The other shows the distinctive tiled dome of the Museum of Man in Balboa Park. Scott, the family's resident artist, took both photos, and Jackson cherishes them. He had hoped displaying Scott's work would soften their constant friction, but it hadn't. Still, Jackson feels a quiet hint of flattery beneath Scott's indifference. On the nightstand to the right of his bed rests Plato's Republic. What began as a school assignment, an academic obligation, has evolved into a source of unexpected enjoyment and insight. The book, well-worn and marked with passages underlined by previous readers, has become a guide in helping his intellectual growth. The vivid dialogues on justice and the ideal society sparked something within him, turning the book into a companion on his journey of self-discovery. It's no longer just a homework task. It's a companion, helping him understand the world and himself. And though he hasn't finished it yet, that no longer matters. On the left nightstand is a photograph from the family's annual barbecue, a snapshot of a simpler, happier time offering a glimpse into a cherished moment from the past. Every year, without fail, Jackson's parents organized the event. It was always a memorable occasion where family, friends, and neighbors gathered to celebrate life, love, and the simple pleasures of good food and great company. The memory of that day is vivid. He can smell the sizzling meat and hear the laughter ringing through the yard. He remembers he and Scott racing around with their friends, darting between clusters of chatting adults sharing stories and jokes. Jackson looks like his father, a striking resemblance that never failed to amuse Scott, who would often call him "Dad's Mini-Me." Scott is more of a mixture of both their parents. The photo serves as a reminder of those precious days when life felt uncomplicated and joy came from shared moments. It captures the warmth of that afternoon, and the smiles convey unbridled joy and love. How quickly things can change.