It is 1:45 am.
He’s in the kitchen making all kinds of food.
“Would you like a couple pieces of bacon and a piece of toast?”
No…. it’s almost 2am.
” Ok ok…. geeze.”
A couple minutes later, comes into my room. “Would you like just Onnnneee Bite, because itsss sooooo gooood.”
“its just ONE bite!”
Oh, ok. Cause that one bite won’t make me want more. Why do you just go offer someone a tiny taste of cocaine.
4:15 – My son and I are still up, just hanging out. Laying in my bed both of us on our tablets. I get up to make a piece of toast because I’m hungry…. out stumbles my husband,
“Oh you couldn’t take one bite of my food but you can eat now.”
It’s toast, leave me alone. I return to my room and shut the door.
This is exactly why we hide the things we hide because this jerk has to make an issue. It had briefly crossed my mind to give the toast to my son so I wouldn’t have to hear his comments and my son said he actually thought about taking the toast so we wouldn’t hear the comments but in the end we chose to not hide and we got the damn comments.
Don’t I have a right as a human being to finish a freaking sentence? Are my words so unimportant that I shouldn’t get to say them? Do I mean so little that I have nothing worth listening to?
I drove by my mom’s after therapy today… I hadn’t planned on it. The route so familiar the car seemed to glide on its own, around the corner, left turn onto the back road and then turned right into her neighborhood. Her house looked exactly the same. The flower pots we didn’t take, sitting in the same place… the iris were overly tall. Mom would have cut them down by now… her purplish/pink trailer looked just like she’d left it. Her neighbors still living in their homes, lives unchanged… If only I could have stopped in and seen my mom.
This evening, I found my old blog and started looking at old entries. It was just like I told Melanie, the same shit I deal with now, I dealt with over 14 years ago. When I last wrote it was right after my mom’s mom had died and then shortly after that my mom’s companion died… such a sad time. It was just a year later mom would come to live in Idaho to be close to me and my kids. Memory lane such a twisted path… I don’t want to forget but I don’t want to remember. Sometimes I still just can’t or maybe don’t want to believe I’ll never see my mom again. Not in this life… how can I go on without out her?
My mom and I were best friends, partners in crime, gigglers and she loved me like no one else has ever or will ever love me.