Growing from Within: The Seed To Influence Many is Planted From Birth

Will he be one of them too, and escape his tragic reality?

Content Warning: The following story, though fictional, contains sensitive and potentially triggering content related to addiction, mental health struggles, and family dynamics. Reader discretion is advised. If you or someone you know is dealing with similar issues, please consider seeking support from mental health professionals or support organizations. Remember, you are not alone, and help is available. Proceed with caution and take care of yourself while engaging with this narrative.

Maybe, Life had planted this seed in Jayme Harris’ belly from the beginning. The nagging question of purpose, the relentless pursuit of understanding the reason for his existence, echoed in his mind like a haunting melody. As he pondered the lives of remarkable figures like Robert Oppenheimer, Elvis Presley, and Bob Marley, he couldn’t help but feel envy and admiration for the passion and drive that seemed to fuel their larger-than-life missions.

Their stories struck a cord deep within him, especially Oppenheimer’s tale of envisioning a world at the tender age of seven, where his two great loves merged: physics and New Mexico. It was as if life had chosen his destiny, pushing him inexorably toward the creation of the atomic bomb and the lesson it would teach. Jayme also remembered another movie, a documentary maybe, that he had seen years ago. Bob Marley’s unyielding commitment to delivering his message through music, even in the face of danger, left a profound impression on Jayme. Like Bob, Jayme was mixed-race and grew up poor, even though their fathers were wealthy. And the movie he saw right after the pandemic about Elvis, with his magnetic aura and ability to move the world through his music, seemed to embody the idea of being blessed or cursed with a mission to influence.

After watching the Oppenheimer movie when it opened, he connected the dots between these three men. He couldn’t help but wonder about the millions of people who the lives and legacies of these remarkable individuals had touched. It was as if their missions had extended beyond their lifetimes, reaching out to generations of admirers and followers, urging them to change or love.

Yet, amidst the awe-inspiring tales of these icons, he felt a growing sense of unease about his own life. He saw himself merely as an observer, a passive participant in the grand symphony of existence. He watched movies, listened to music, and went about his daily routine, wondering if there was more to it all.

What is my mission? he asked himself, his voice barely above a whisper.

Week after week, the question lingered in the air, unanswered, as he continued to search for meaning in the seemingly ordinary events of his life.

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“You ain’t shit, Jayme!” The rum-laden voice of the old man cut through his thoughts. “It’s ‘cause of your whore of a mother.”

Jayme closed his eyes, pausing the descent of the blade. His hands tightened around the knife’s handle as it hovered over the potato on the cutting board.

1–2–3–4–5, he counted silently as he inhaled. He counted again, 1–2–3–4–5–6–7, exhaling and opening his eyes, returning to the current mission — fixing dinner for this man and blocking out the horrible and familiar verbal attacks.

He had long stopped thinking of him as his father. That, and the meditative breathing, resulted from years of therapy.

Compartmentalize. This thought sent his mind back to the Oppenheimer movie. He was nothing like the physicist. Perhaps his father was right. There’s nothing special about me — no grand mission beyond cutting potatoes and not bringing harm to this flawed human whose rotten DNA runs rampant through my body.

Like a plutonium bomb, he thought.

“I had that dream again,” Jayme said to Dr. Kahneman.

“Oh, was there anything different this time?” She asked as she typed a note off-camera <Reminder: explore the emotions and thoughts triggered by these dreams. Jayme must process and understand the underlying feelings and anxieties about the abusive situation with his father>.

I was sitting in a quiet park surrounded by the beauty of nature. His stench hit me first — the homeless man sitting on my bench's other side. I looked at him and saw, despite his unkempt appearance, he had a serene smile. He was looking right at me. The man asked me, “What do you desire from life?”

She interrupted his retelling and asked, “Who did the man look like, Jayme? Did he look like your dad?”

In the square of the Zoom window, Jayme’s brows knitted harshly, repulsed by the reference to his father as ‘dad,’ he shook his head.

“No. But I don’t remember his face. Just his clothes and his smell.” Jayme looked down, challenged to contemplate the face. The only thing that came to mind was: pleated like the fragile pages of a well-worn book. But he did not say this out loud.

“May I continue, doctor?”

“Of course, yes,” she encouraged even as she wrote in the electronic notepad: <Advise Jayme to prioritize his safety and consider involving appropriate authorities or seeking legal advice. His dream may indicate a desire for a safe space and a guide>.

In my dream, I was stirred by the unexpected question and took a moment to reflect deeply.

“I want to make a positive impact, to leave a mark on the world, no matter how small,” I told the man.

The man nodded approvingly.

“Then, do that. Do that.”

Dr. Kahneman stared at Jayme for a long moment, then said, “Shall we create a safety plan to enable this dream to become a reality? Perhaps you are ready to explore alternative care options, like hiring a caregiver or finding an assisted living facility to meet your parent’s needs?”

She held her breath. Every other time she tried this, Jayme was not open to the idea.

This time he did not answer at all.

After a while, she sighed heavily; she could not help it.

“Jayme, I must emphasize the importance of self-care as you contemplate your next best move. For your homework, I would like you to identify activities and practices that promote your physical and emotional well-being.”

Jayme was still thinking about what the doctor said about making his dream a reality. Her words and that moment in time seemed — loud to him — they echoed in his soul.

They both thought, Maybe some seed was planted in his dream this time that could blossom into action. He hoped. She hoped.

In a quiet neighborhood in the scenic northeast, the Childs family home is a testament to warmth and struggle. Inside the house, Jayme Harris, a middle-aged man in his late 30s, sits on a couch, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the medical associates. He feels a mix of emotions — sadness for what’s to come and hope that this decision will provide his father, Prescott Childs III, with the help he needs.

Prescott III, Jayme’s father, is a proud yet haunted man in his early 60s, bearing the weight of a long-standing battle with addiction. The love between father and son withered away many years before. Jayme now believes that taking his father to a care home for aged addicts is the best way to ensure the man’s well-being and recovery. Jayme also hoped it meant his own salvation.

As the medical associates enter the living room, Jayme takes a deep breath and gently places his hand on his father’s shoulder. The pain reflected in their eyes mirrors the difficulty of the situation. Having dealt with similar scenarios, the associates offer reassurance and empathy as they explain the care facility’s services and dedication to helping individuals like Prescott III find stability and healing.

With some struggle, the associates kindly and firmly guide Prescott III out of the house and into the waiting vehicle. Here ends Jayme's relationship with a father who refused him the family name because of his mother’s profession, a demon battling addiction, and a human engulfed in depression. Prescott III leaves his child, now a man. His mission is complete, and he hopes to rest in peace.

Upstairs in his room, Jayme’s eyes watch the van until it disappears beyond the trees. He turns into the cozy office space filled with memories. He runs a finger along the edge of the laptop where he writes his young adult novels.

His latest story revolves around a young protagonist named Alexie, who finds himself in a home with his parents fighting their inner demons. Drawing inspiration from his experiences, Jayme weaves a tale of resilience, friendship, and the transformative power of understanding.

Through his writing, Jayme hopes to connect with young readers who may be going through similar challenges, offering them a sense of understanding, validation, and hope. He knows the power of storytelling and believes he can impact others’ lives by sharing his journey through Alexie’s fictional world.

For Jayme, the realization that the seed planted in his belly was not a question of finding purpose. But maybe life planted a seed of literary greatness in his stomach as he was in his mother’s womb. The hardships he faced growing up germinated and nurtured the mission seed. The stories of Oppenheimer, Elvis, and Bob Marley had touched him, whetting his desire to seek, no be, more. Through therapy, it all blossomed into purpose.

When he discovered his passion for writing, crafting stories that resonated with young people was his only path — his one direction. He aimed to inspire and provoke thought through his writing, hoping his words would catalyze personal change, self-love, and a community of understanding.

These days, Jayme Harris finds solace in knowing his life has a meaningful direction. He could leave a lasting impact on the world in his unique way, one young heart at a time.

© Scarlet Ibis James, 2023: All Rights Reserved.

Initially, I shared this story on Substack.