Sunday, August 15, 2010

One day I'll look back and say:

That was the summer we played pianos in Cincinnati. The summer my dad got arrested while we test drove the Smartcar in Columbus. That was the summer we went to Chicago. It was the summer you moved away from me. That was the summer I turned 24 and you made me a gorgeous mocha cake and then we played laser tag. It was the summer my apartment burned. That was the summer we did our second fifty-mile bike ride. That was the year I got my first kiss. The summer we hiked too long and got stuck in a state park after dark and the park rangers drove us back to your car. It was the summer we built that book mosaic and you won all that money. The summer we joined a trivia league. The summer I decided that I will always, always love you, no matter how far away you are. The summer I got promoted to office manager and finally moved out and got a roommate. The summer I lived in that temporary apartment for weeks. That was the summer I learned just how many people love and care about me. It was the year I visited Heather in Kentucky and Sarah in Columbus and Jeremy in Salem. It was the summer I felt like my whole life was falling apart. The summer it all started coming together. 

I forgot things! What else did I miss?

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Are you moving out because I accidentally started a fire?

Remember that time Dad passed out in the middle of the kitchen and fell off the stool and we couldn't wake him up?
Remember that time I took you to the ER for an overdose because Dad left you and went to work anyway?
Remember all those times you passed out on the toilet or standing up against the counter or sitting up in your bed or even driving?
Remember when you used to steal my things and sell them at pawn shops for money to buy pills, and then I got a  lock for my bedroom door?
Remember when we were homeless and lived in a dirty motel?
Remember when I picked you up from jail? When I bailed dad out of jail? When I picked you up from jail AGAIN?
Remember when the cops came to the house looking for you and you ran out the back door, barefoot, into the snow?
Remember how you and Dad fight and scream and throw things at each other?
Remember all those times the electricity or water or rent didn't get paid for weeks at a time but you guys still got high? Remember when it was so bad I couldn't come home? Remember how I paid all those things with my credit cards and I'm STILL paying for them?
Remember when you stole money from my bank account? Again and again?
Remember when I realized that your "tired" wasn't like other peoples tired?
Remember when I discovered that everyone else I know doesn't call me a bitch, selfish, cruel, judgmental, uncaring, or all those other things you claim I am?
Remember when we got robbed by your "friends"? Remember when it happened again?
Remember when your "friends" started calling my cell phone and harassing me about where you are and where their money is? Remember when they would come to our home?
Remember when you got arrested for shoplifting?
Remember when my brother started being just like you?
Remember that time I wouldn't take you to your dealers and you grabbed the steering wheel and told me I might as well drive us into a tree? Remember how I parked at the grocery store and ran inside because I was afraid of you?
Remember all those times you didn't know who I was? Who anyone was?
Remember how you taught me things I'm trying to unlearn?

But you're right. The fire is the only reason I'm leaving.

Saturday, August 07, 2010

Routine is comforting. I wanted to be comforted.

I'm already tired of my life being about the fire. My routine hasn't come back to me. I forget to do stupid things like drink enough water or put my perfume on. I miss wanting to go hiking or biking everyday after work. Now I'm worried about getting groceries or just going "home". I want normal back. It can be a new normal. I like change. But I don't like this whole get-used-to-temporary-living thing I'm trying to do. Why should I establish a routine when I'm only going to live here for three weeks?

I want to go home. MY home. Even though I've never been there before.

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

I have so much going on inside my head and inside my heart. I can't even sort it out enough to tell you about it. I don't know what is going to happen next. I'm hopeful and scared and worried and excited and very, very nervous. But mostly I'm tired. And I want to rest. I miss my favorite chair.