(no subject)
Family, what’s that?
I had a ‘God’ moment tonight. Some of you know that I was thrown away, discarded, some years ago. Not something that I’m proud of, rather something that I wish could stay hidden, locked away forever. I’ve climbed out of the trash heap since but I have no space in my life for my ‘forgiven but not forgotten’ so called family. I went to the corner store for 2 beers, I left with 3.
I walked in, thinking nothing evil. I have known that something like this would happen, eventually…
As usual, there was a gaggle of people blocking access to the back of the store, where they keep the beer, and I was standing there waiting for the aisle to clear. I avoid eye contact with many of the ‘patrons’ of this store due to the fact that many of them have no shame when begging strangers for that last dollar they ‘need’ for a six-pack or a bottle of cheap wine.
Suddenly a voice says: “well hey there!”. I looked down and there stood my Mother’s first daughter, used to be my big sister, a person that I have not exchanged so much as a glance in at least seven years.
She smiled and said, ” Well, it looks like you’re doing all right.” I’m sure that I mumbled something while every atom in my body wanted to run away, something about how God has taken care of me. She asked if I was driving, if I had access to an automobile, (The measure of ‘wealth’ in our town), I wiggled my keys and managed to croak: ‘new Buick’ from a throat now swollen to what felt twice its size, I have a vague recollection of hearing an ‘I love you’ which brought the blood rushing to my face and a feeling of disgust and shame.
I’ve been carrying a letter in my wallet to give her for many years. It’s lying here, all creased and dirty from my sitting on it for so long. I had promised myself that I would hand it to her if confronted like this, in lieu of comment, but I choked;
~“I breathe in and out several times a minute. I blink my eyes; I urinate, defecate and sweat. I eat and sleep. These are things I do every day.
I cry most nights, sometimes I cry when I wake. Sometimes I tremble, ball up my fists, squeeze my eyes shut, and scream. I shake with anger nearly every time I lift myself from the mattress in the basement I live in.
I live. I guess I'm lucky.
I used to smoke, not that I miss it, every day-every waking hour. I was able to quit. I had to quit because I can't afford to smoke.
I used to hate, I tell myself I've quit that too. I’d like to think that that is true because I can't afford that either.
How I live, how I am, how I’ve been ‘keeping myself’ is my business and not yours.
You have put out your garbage, discarded your rubbish.
Garbage is not alive. Old coffee filters, used paper towels, orange and potato peelings, the effluvia of our lives, do not spit, bleed, puke nor does it cry. You put it all in a plastic bag and drop it on the side of the road. You don't go chasing after the big red truck on Thursday screaming: brother, brother!
‘Brother’, now there's a word. 'Son' is a word our mother understood, sister is one I understand. At the very least, I know that it's not just someone you share a mother with.
'Family' is another word; one aspect of family is love, love without conditions. Apparently this concept is foreign to you.
I come to one conclusion here; the word 'family' does not apply to you and I.
Please do not refer to me as ‘brother’; I stopped calling you sister years ago.”~
I got away from her like a shot and waited, walked around pretending to shop, all the while unsuccessfully trying to stifle sobs and the uncontrollable shaking ‘till I was sure she was gone. I finally made it to the counter; I really don’t know how I found it trying to see through tears. The cashier, a dear friend, asked, “Are you all right Mike? I could only shake my head and gesture that I was not able to speak. Gratefully, she just took the money and I was off as fast as I could go.
I’m looking forward, in the literal sense only, to a long episode of depression. I knew that this would happen, I live only a few miles away from a few of my ex-siblings and this store is one that we all have been going to for many years.
A sad part of this sad life I’m stuck in. I have no acceptable way out of it ‘till God takes me home.
I had a ‘God’ moment tonight. Some of you know that I was thrown away, discarded, some years ago. Not something that I’m proud of, rather something that I wish could stay hidden, locked away forever. I’ve climbed out of the trash heap since but I have no space in my life for my ‘forgiven but not forgotten’ so called family. I went to the corner store for 2 beers, I left with 3.
I walked in, thinking nothing evil. I have known that something like this would happen, eventually…
As usual, there was a gaggle of people blocking access to the back of the store, where they keep the beer, and I was standing there waiting for the aisle to clear. I avoid eye contact with many of the ‘patrons’ of this store due to the fact that many of them have no shame when begging strangers for that last dollar they ‘need’ for a six-pack or a bottle of cheap wine.
Suddenly a voice says: “well hey there!”. I looked down and there stood my Mother’s first daughter, used to be my big sister, a person that I have not exchanged so much as a glance in at least seven years.
She smiled and said, ” Well, it looks like you’re doing all right.” I’m sure that I mumbled something while every atom in my body wanted to run away, something about how God has taken care of me. She asked if I was driving, if I had access to an automobile, (The measure of ‘wealth’ in our town), I wiggled my keys and managed to croak: ‘new Buick’ from a throat now swollen to what felt twice its size, I have a vague recollection of hearing an ‘I love you’ which brought the blood rushing to my face and a feeling of disgust and shame.
I’ve been carrying a letter in my wallet to give her for many years. It’s lying here, all creased and dirty from my sitting on it for so long. I had promised myself that I would hand it to her if confronted like this, in lieu of comment, but I choked;
~“I breathe in and out several times a minute. I blink my eyes; I urinate, defecate and sweat. I eat and sleep. These are things I do every day.
I cry most nights, sometimes I cry when I wake. Sometimes I tremble, ball up my fists, squeeze my eyes shut, and scream. I shake with anger nearly every time I lift myself from the mattress in the basement I live in.
I live. I guess I'm lucky.
I used to smoke, not that I miss it, every day-every waking hour. I was able to quit. I had to quit because I can't afford to smoke.
I used to hate, I tell myself I've quit that too. I’d like to think that that is true because I can't afford that either.
How I live, how I am, how I’ve been ‘keeping myself’ is my business and not yours.
You have put out your garbage, discarded your rubbish.
Garbage is not alive. Old coffee filters, used paper towels, orange and potato peelings, the effluvia of our lives, do not spit, bleed, puke nor does it cry. You put it all in a plastic bag and drop it on the side of the road. You don't go chasing after the big red truck on Thursday screaming: brother, brother!
‘Brother’, now there's a word. 'Son' is a word our mother understood, sister is one I understand. At the very least, I know that it's not just someone you share a mother with.
'Family' is another word; one aspect of family is love, love without conditions. Apparently this concept is foreign to you.
I come to one conclusion here; the word 'family' does not apply to you and I.
Please do not refer to me as ‘brother’; I stopped calling you sister years ago.”~
I got away from her like a shot and waited, walked around pretending to shop, all the while unsuccessfully trying to stifle sobs and the uncontrollable shaking ‘till I was sure she was gone. I finally made it to the counter; I really don’t know how I found it trying to see through tears. The cashier, a dear friend, asked, “Are you all right Mike? I could only shake my head and gesture that I was not able to speak. Gratefully, she just took the money and I was off as fast as I could go.
I’m looking forward, in the literal sense only, to a long episode of depression. I knew that this would happen, I live only a few miles away from a few of my ex-siblings and this store is one that we all have been going to for many years.
A sad part of this sad life I’m stuck in. I have no acceptable way out of it ‘till God takes me home.