dear diary…


Dear Diary,

Girl, you wouldn’t believe all the bullshit lately. It’s not BAD shit. It’s just BULLSHIT. In my head, mostly. Trying so hard to chill, but it’s hard. But, I’m about as chill as I’ve been since the day I was born.

I’ve been thinking about my extra sons a lot lately. The ones who are gone. I thank God every time I see Jay here and doing so well. And, for the last years when he’s been taking the tiniest steps. Even those lil steps were major. I put money on S’s books today. I always promised myself I would whenever I had a lil extra. I put enough to last him a minute or so. He’s going to take the full ride on those drug charges. I can’t believe how his life took the turn it did. He was doing so well, then…everything just went to fuck. Fucking drugs. I’m tired of dope and what it does to people. Legalize…don’t legalize…it doesn’t matter. The people who want to die the long, hard,  way are gonna do it and all we can do is watch.

Enough of that. Good grief. I’m working myself into a tizzy. Damn Paul pissed me off for the last time. I don’t understand the English, anyway. They’re just fucked up and weird. Or maybe HE’S just fucked up and weird. I don’t know. I’ve never seen a man who turned so fast and who had more trouble with the truth than him. Not even Bennie. That’s really saying a lot. I sent him a scathing email and I do believe that’s it. No more. I just have no idea how to relate to someone like that and I don’t want to. He’s so hung up on his ex that it’s not even funny. He told me I talked shit about people I don’t know because I pointed that out to him. I’m not sure how it’s talking shit, or what either of them could do about it from across the pond, but I’d love to have the chance to find out. I have friends who have bros across the pond if dearest Paul really wants to get ugly with me. That could be interesting. Except that I don’t like owing these particular friends any favors. Best to keep that shit way in check.

Going to Mom’s tomorrow. Dad is really into the dementia thing. And, he’s returning to the violent man he once was. I never thought that could happen. He’s so small now, shrunken with age. At least he’s not the beast he used to be, so we can physically restrain him, if we have to. I don’t want that. I think I’d just die if I had to do that to my dad. But he’s growing quite aggressive with Mom and I am not sitting still for it. When we were there a few days ago, he was yelling at her. I was sitting next to him on the sofa and tried to take his hand. He always took my hand before and I’d hold his until his troubles passed. But, this time, I couldn’t unclench his fist. I believe that, if he could have, he’d have gotten up and punched her. He was convinced that my brother was still living there and swore he was stealing from him, in spite of the fact that Kenny has been in Austin for well over a month now and Mom called a locksmith and had Dad watch him change the lock on his door. Another thing is that Dad is a virtual encyclopedia when it comes to the Bible. But now, he says that thing with Jesus just might have something to it. As though he’d never heard the Word before. The entire situation is unsettling, to say the least. Mom and I have to figure out what the next steps are for Dad and make some firm decisions. She doesn’t want him in a home. But it’s only due to her guilt about him raising me and then Ben and I taking care of my grandmother till she died. She feels that Dad should be her sole responsibility to make up for all that. But it doesn’t make up for anything when he’s causing her to have high blood pressure. The woman already runs two businesses and keeps a group of handymen gainfully employed. If so much of her money didn’t go to income tax, it would help with the unemployment rate in her area, I promise you that!

Mom offered me a great job. In Galveston. She wants me to run the shop. I wouldn’t have to do much more than greet the public and do quality control and basic management stuff. I’d make more than I used to make when I worked till I dropped every day. That would free her up to grow her home business and, eventually, retire. But, I would have to live in Galveston. I could afford the car I want, and actually need…have the apartment I have always dreamed of. Material crap. What I know, that Mom doesn’t, is that none of that would make me happy. Not inside. If you dropped a million bucks on my head tomorrow, I’d be happy to help others, but nothing I could buy with it would make a damn to me. I’d still be me. I’m pretty sure you can’t buy a soul. Anyway, I could work and come home, still clean and not exhausted. Wow! Plus, she knows that I know how to get that place in order and ready for franchising in a relatively short period of time. She always says she wished she’d listened to me when we first opened. So do I. But, all is not lost. I know what I can do and how I will go about doing it. As long as she lets me do what’s needed, I see no reason we can’t do a two to three year turn over of the shop to a national company. Already got the numbers crunched and a few contacts in the industry, so…Who knows?

I just wish I didn’t love it here, in Mayberry, so much. This feels like sliding into home. The winding roads, the trees, the cows and horses in pastures…the hay bails…the critters…it feels good to me. Wherever your eyes may fall, they are privy to a festival of beauty. There is life going on here, no matter where you are or look. Innocent life. It feels clean here and this land is meaningful in ways that only the sons and daughters of the South can understand. This land was blood bought. My sons, like their father and his, and the many who went before, will hold on to it for that reason, if for no other. But, rest assured, the reasons are many. Mom doesn’t understand that. But, she wasn’t raised like I was. For all his violence and terrible behavior, Dad raised me to be a Texan, first. And, so, I am, as was Bennie. That’s how we raised our sons. That will be carried on, no matter what ever may happen to us. So, it’s not so easy to pack up and go back to Galveston. It just isn’t.





3 thoughts on “dear diary…

    1. No idea. Absolutely none. Spending a week with Mom. That should get it straight in my head. It’s hard for me to believe she’s thinking along those lines, though. She knows I earned it. And I know she needs me. Life is so damned sticky.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Well whatever is supposed to happen will… But maybe a change of scenery wouldn’t be bad, with all the changes that are happening anyway? Change of input, change of energy. New life, new body, new attitude, new seashells to gather. Xox

        Sending extra hugs.


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