For My Son, Lumpy


I get it. You never thought I did, but I did. I understood. You. But I didn’t understand the dope. Back when dope had you in the palm of its hand…cradled in its arms as though you were its child. You were my child. Then, now and forever: Mine.

You’ve been relatively clean for what, six years now? God…it still seems like yesterday when you were out of your young mind. You were so fried from all the shit you put into your body. And I tried to stop you until you fucking hated me. You weren’t alone. I hated myself for not being able to save you.

You know, I still lose sleep over you. I jump up when I hear what I think is a car door at an odd hour. When the door closes and it sounds a little ‘off’, I start to cringe, heart racing, wondering what just walked in. Some nights, when I can’t sleep, I find myself looking out of the window, as if you’re coming home. I check the locks all the time, in case one of your homies, or one of your enemies, decides to barge in. When someone drives by the house too slow, I get down low. Just in case.

I thank God every day that you walked away from dope. It had to happen before you ended up in the ground. And, even though the path of destruction left in your wake is wide and there are wounds yet to heal, I wouldn’t give anything for the you who is you now. The fight was worth it. Even though I had nothing to do with you kicking, I don’t regret a thing because you’ll always know that your mother never stopped fighting for you. When you were at your lowest point, and were too young to realize it, I was there, holding it down for you.

When I hear this song, I always remember those days. Because you were just young and lashing out. You had your ideals…imagined things worth fighting for. You and your weirdo friends. I swear, when I see someone slinging dope on the street, even now, it is all I can do to keep myself from running them down. Fuckers. Sorry fuckers. And gangsters? Oh, please. Little bitches, one and all. And, yes, I know you’d die if you knew how I talk to them. And, yes, one will probably shoot my old ass one day. But you know what? Fuck em. They’re all nothing but rats and I call em out every chance I get. They should be exterminated before they fuck up another family.

Well, kid…that’s about it. I’m happy you’re not Lumpy anymore. I’m happy to have J back in my life. I’m happy to watch you parent that adorable grandson you gave me and I’m forever thankful that God picked me to be your mother.

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