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Carl thought about his life a lot.
He thought about growing up in King’s County and going to the elementary school in town. About the pokemon cards he had traded with his friends. Where his desk was in Ms. Garthright’s first grade classroom. He thought about the playground his mom would take him to after school where she would talk to her friends while he went down the slide as many times as he could. He thought about his childhood bedroom and all the comic books on his bookshelf that he had taken for granted. Fairly often, he would remember the family dinners his parents would host on Sundays and how he always had to go to sleep early and could hear his grandparents and aunts laughing with his parents until he fell asleep. He thinks about how he wishes he had more time to be a kid.
Carl thought about his life a lot.
He thought about his time with the group in the quarry. About how Shane had driven all night until he couldn’t stay awake anymore. About how lucky they were to run into someone with an RV at the rest stop. He thought about the not-so-gentle way his mom used to cut his hair. He thought about how unbelievably relieved he had been that day when his dad showed up out of nowhere. He thought he was seeing a ghost when his mom hadn’t reacted at the sight of his dad. He remembers the day Shane was “teaching” him to catch frogs, something he’d only done in his backyard after a rainstorm thus far in his life. How he’d laughed when Shane was splashing around and how the mood had changed when his mom came up to them. He wishes he didn’t remember the day the walkers had overrun the camp. He wishes he hadn’t seen death at such a young age.
Carl thought about his life a lot.
He thought about his baby sister Judith. About the sacrifice his mother made in order to keep Jude alive. About the sacrifice he made in order to keep his mom from further suffering. He thought about the kid who had lowered his gun when Carl hadn’t. He thought about Michonne and how she had been one of the only positive adult figures in his life in those moments. He likes to think Michonne and his mom would’ve been friends in another life. Friends who gossip together while watching their children go up and down the slide. He thinks about Violet and the sacrifice that she didn’t get to choose to make that allowed them to stay at the prison just a little bit longer . His dad had warned him not to name them but what else was he supposed to do in his free time. He thinks about the despair he felt when he saw Judith’s car set empty except for the splatters of blood where her head should’ve been resting. He thinks about the sacrifices that have been made for everyone to make it this far.
Carl thought about his life a lot.
He thought about his first gunshot wound. The one that was an accident.He thinks about the man who died getting that equipment back to him. He thinks about all of the people who’ve died before him, who have allowed him to make it this far in the first place. He thinks about his second gunshot wound. The one that was on purpose. The one that was a product of teenage jealousy, angst, and repressed emotions. He doesn’t think about the pain because he doesn’t remember it. He just remembers the fear on his dad’s face when he looked up and saw his eye, or lack thereof. He remembers coming back to his body and hearing Denise’s nervous rambling. He thought he heard Michonne talking outside but he wasn’t very sure and by the time he fully regained consciousness, her voice was lost in his coma dreams. He remembers the third gunshot wound. The one that could’ve been. The one that he’d thought about on several occasions. The one he could never figure out. He was really close one time. Until Daryl found him. Daryl who realized what he’d walked into when he saw Carl crying in the gazebo. Daryl who gently took the gun away and sat Carl down on the closest bench and just sat with him until he was done crying. Daryl who promised not to tell his Dad as long as Carl made a promise in return to find Daryl anytime he just wanted to talk, to be listened to. He wishes his life could’ve been different.
Carl thought about his life a lot.
He thought about how he was glad he survived all of the monstrosities that life had thrown at him. All the villains and the monsters he had managed to conquer or avoid. About how he was happy that his family had survived all of the sacrifices they had made. He thought about all the moments of joy and all the moments of despair. Of every moment that has led him here. To this moment. He never imagined himself here. Not after everything he had been through. What did he do to deserve this? He wasn’t sure, but he was gonna make every moment worth it.
Carl thought about his life a lot but he especially thought about it when he was cooking dinner with his partner for his kids. When he’s tucking them in at night and whispering for them to have sweet dreams. When he’s going over their homework assigned by Carol and feels guilty for not knowing all of the answers but his education was scattered at best.
Carl thinks about his life a lot. He thinks about how he would do it all over again, all of the gunshot wounds, all of the despair, everything that he and his family have endured, if it meant he could tuck them in at night.