about this.

My quest for self discovery and self understanding went mostly unanswered and left me mostly empty. The rest of the night was spent with nothing important.

The following day, my body told me to wake up. And so I got up, reluctantly, and with a moan and a kick to myself. I didn't have anything planned other than work that evening.

My mother wasn't at home. I assumed she went out for groceries. I didn't have a breakfast set up for me, and at that point I wasn't going to wait for one like an ungrateful husband from the 1940s.

I decided to make my own breakfast. I cracked and egg and scrambled it on the griddle while I waited for my bacon to fry in it's own grease. The sizzling and intoxicating smell drove me on edge.

I wanted to devour it still raw, but I controlled myself until it was thoroughly cooked and ready for my enjoyment and eating pleasure. I set the food in the table. Lastly I grabbed a bright and shiny red apple. I pulled a knife from the sink to slice it into quarter pieces.

II cut it in halves, no problem. Once I went to slice it again I got clumsy and cut the sides of my left hand that was holding the apple piece. Blood dripped onto the plate that was holding the slice apple.

I ran over to the sink and let the warm water wash away my blood whole it kept coming out of my open wound. With my hand still under the running water, I reached for some paper towel set to the side and used it to dry my hand and wrap around it like a bandage.

Shoot. Day one of cooking and I'm already about to kill myself on accident. Just perfect.

I decided to keep it under wraps while finished my hard earned breakfast that I worked so hard on. I thought about mom, how she used to kiss my cuts and scrapes when I was small.

Well, smaller than I am now at least

She was always the one to take care of me in my times of need. She had always fed me, watched out for me, and showed a clear interest in my future.

Where did we go wrong?

Where did I go wrong?

We had both changed, and not for the better. Just the opposite. I was living on a completely different planet than my once caring and protective mother was.

My breakfast tasted great, not like mom's, but still good. It tasted even better than it probably should have because I had worked for it. After breakfast and me still being listless, I decided to get some fresh air and walk outside towards the city.

My house was a mile and a half away from the restaurant, but it was still centrally located close to the northeast side of the historical downstairs area. Every block had a mixture of large pretty brick homes that were made in the 1800s, chains like piggly wiggly and dollar general, and thankfully plenty of coffee from local coffee shops.

A few blocks into my walk to clear my mind, I noticed the bartender standing next to the pound with bags full of supplies in his hands. They looked new, things fresh out of the store with stickers and price labels still on them.

He was pulling bags out of his trunk and handing them to a young woman who was taking it inside a building. I got closer and saw that the building all the supplies were going to was a dog shelter.

The bartender noticed me as he finished up his giving and smiled big with his teeth showing. He adjusted his suspender and the utility belt around his waist as he took a few breaths from carrying all those bags.

He joyfully shook my hand. "Good to see ya' here, Sander, how do ya' find yourself today?" he asked as he handed the young girl the final bag from his old pickup truck.

I shifted my view from him to the girl who was going into the building. "I'm doing well. Just snooping around aimlessly, per usaly." I finished my sentence when the girl came back and took out her hand for me to shake.

"Nice to meet you!" She said. Her tone was as chipper as the brightly colored polka dot shirt she was wearing. Her skin was as dark as black coffee. She dawned big, mesmerizing eyes that looked bigger through the bifocals in her glasses. Her hands were soft and warm as they locked with mine in our shake.

She must of taken good care of her skin with lotion or something. "Yeah, same here." I said. I don't usually meet new people when I'm out and about, but I wasn't complaining.

"My name is Daisy." Her name suited her well. It perfectly encapsulated her personality, from what I could see and my first impressions.

The bartender scratched his throat, like he was trying to sum up his thoughts. "Yes, Daisy works here at the dog shelter part of the animal rescue here in Knoxville." he wraps his arm around the girl and pulls her in. "I volunteer here part time and donate things whenever I can."

The girl slipped under his gripping arm as if he had done this a hundred times before and playfully pushed him with her elbow. "So, how long have you known Jackson?"

"Jackson?" I questioned. I probably should have used context clues to see who she was referring to, but I'm a numnut.

Her mouth opened wide with surprise to my response. "Um."

"Oh, that's right, I never told ya' my name!" Jackson the bartender clarified. "But if I'm not mistaken, ya' didn't ask either."

He wasn't making me look any better. Now I felt like a clown in front of this pretty girl I just met. "Oh yeah, my bad. I'm not too good with people and stuff." I tried to pass it off as a joke. "What's in a name, anyways?"

They both looked at each other, which only made the beads of sweat dripping from my head get larger with nervousness. "Anyway, I didn't know you volunteered here. That's pretty cool! Bartender at night yet savior of dogs during the day."

Jackson cleared his throat like an old man who smoked cigarettes since he was a child. "I've always loved animals, especially dogs. They have nothing but love for people. If ya' take care of them right, they become part of the family."

Daisy nodded her head in agreement. "My sentiments exactly! Plus, not only are you helping, but it's also therapeutic in a way. It's a really good pastime."

Pastime? I was basically a virgin to that topic. I only ever did things I've had to do. Not because I wanted to, but out of duty.

Daisy pointed at me. "What's your pastime?"

I couldn't muster up a proper answer. "My pastime is not having one." I thought a quirky answer might just get me by without having to explain myself any more.

The girl seemed unsatisfied with my answer and insisted. "You're outta highschool, right? Surely at this point you know what you wanna do?"

The bartender tapped the Daisy on her shoulder and lifted his lips, giving her a signal to quit her prying. "That's alright " He said, helping me out. "He'll figure it out. He just needs time."

"Daisy, can you come in here for a second?" A voice yelled out to her from inside the shelter.

"Guess that's my cue." she said politely. Before she disappeared through the two front doors, she spoke to me again. "Hope to see you again!"

And she stormed into the building. It was kind of odd. That reaction was strange. It did make me giggle a bit to myself.

Jackson looked at her leave and glazed back at me with his big brown eyes like he was concocting a plan. "I need to go as well." He said as he went up beside me. "Before I go, I'll give you a little advice. Much like in life, you need to start with small things, never forget to ask for someone's name."

And just like that, he took off in his beat up truck. The smoke from the mufflers spilt through the air and went up my nose and into my lungs, causing me to hack and cough. I decided that I was ready to go back home and chill out some more before work.

Later, I sat on the stoop of the front of my house. Eating a sonic the hedgehog ice cream I had just gotten from the ice cream truck. The atmosphere felt nice and calm since it wasn't rush hour so not too many cars littered the road.

I thought to myself, with the sweet treat in my mouth.

What's in a name?