Category: To You

At making me feel small. Does that make you feel strong, or tough?

Nothing else worth saying.

There are days where I miss you so much.

And no matter how far I go

Or how often you wander, I still look

For you everywhere.

I still ache for the pieces of stardust and chemicals

That makes you,

You.

A quote that I hear from my husband often, it appears to have gained momentum and meaning for me over time, you get why? Can you dig it?

My memories get stuck together, in particular after my ex who had been silent for a number of years made contact with my husband for a few metal shows and other familiar faces from my former party crew in Wyoming after they started pinging in friend requests after..10 plus years now.

It got me to thinking if, like in Black Monday when they set up that undercover cop with the guy for a con just to fuck with her. I’ve seen people make radical decisions post Break up to stick it to the other person regardless if the parting ways is justified through poor treatment and fractured trust. How did they choose to tell the story afterwards to shared relations?

I’ll spot names in my game that remind me of inside jokes from band practice nights in the flowers basement where the pornography was taped up on the walls for inspiration,or other notable events. I spot nicknames and initials I’m familiar with and then I make a connection. Did I just see my deceased cats name?

Fuck, what if that guy I met on Craigslist was a hired hit, and the others after that, deal the damage then get out. Slo does look an awful lot like Savanah after all, and what’s with all these links in Japan?..you know how those military brotherhood types roll getting each others backs, or maybe Yakuza ..I’d heard my fair share of those drinking with the Yakuza stories. He told me one night one of his navy crew had pissed off the wrong guys and disappeared at a club after the lights went out. Stories for a party or cautionary tales?

I remember how my military cousin in Florida and him had forged a connection over nose candy and made some plans for money. How the fuck did they even get to talking or even meet? I don’t remember.

Inwardly I groan, if that’s the case I guess I can brush off a solid swatch of time My life to Court and his bag of dicks. That’s at least kind of funny in the Big Mouth joke sense, but if I dwell on it too much I’ll probably ugly cry myself into oblivion.

I danced around the severity of this notion to my husband who laughingly assures me he is not of that nature and is only guilty of having presence around the same time frame not the same space of interaction. He came to America from Russia in his preteens and we met in school, him a well to do student and cross country skiier.. me delinquent as I was and that was a whole different box of potential insecurities I felt I handled with relative albeit wary ease.

I worry sometimes about my grasp of the threshold devolving but feel I’ve got a positive anchor in the other responsibilities I tend to in my day to day.

It takes a village to raise a child. In the case of you, it took a single mother and a small village. You were, I thought, the textbook definition of the “easy” child to raise. You were kind, intelligent, funny, you had common sense.

There were very minor instances of rebelliousness, but in the grand scheme of things, really too minor to even label them as true rebelliousness. Other people often complained of their kids being snarky, sarcastic, mean. I had never experienced these things in you in any real form and for that, I was thankful. I felt blessed by that.

I had certain expectations of you and for your life, hopes, dreams, wishes. You knew that I placed high value on education, so you went forward into college and did not stop until you had finished what you started. I admired your determination. You had grit. You did the work. You earned everything by your own efforts, but as your single parent,

I am terrified, I had it all mapped out, what I would say, and it sounded right. But the hours are ticking down. In a few hours I will see you.
What scares me first is, will I even get the alone time, will I have the chance to speak to you.
I envisage it 100s of ways, there you are as I get out my car ” Hey xxxxx got a minute”
And I start to say what I rehearsed, then xxxx interrupts us, or someone else.
Another variant is, you say “Look, can you just leave me alone” or else, ” I don’t want to talk about this”
I don’t have a plan for that except to maybe say “Are we cool”?
Then a hurried “Just want you to know I am not mislead by anything you say or d