“Believe me, we are OVER all of this. We do not think of these things anymore. We have moved on a long time ago. We are thinking of the food we did not eat today.”
– Mama
All I could hear was the surface audio and nothing more during our conversation. My mind now lacked energy to find the depth in her words- maybe she thought of what happened between us some nights, maybe she thought of the food I had yet to eat in my day, some days? As independent as I wished to be every second of my day, maybe she would tell me she is there in case I do not make it?
As a reminder popped up on my phone- “Recovery: Take baby steps”, I realized I must stop thinking and keep moving. I must reverse our roles and become the caretaker. I must remove the stress from my mama’s mind; the next time we talk, nothing must be wrong in my life balance. I must make it in life for all those nights she could not sleep while chasing me down at 3 a.m. doing wild things in dangerous alley paths.
It was becoming tough to stay in these walls for this ritual but I would do it for her. Old memories were crawling down my spine and any hope for relaxation was melting away into the hardwood floor I was laying the new carpet on. “WE need help upstairs but not down here” was a tone I often used to direct guests; this tone was now being used to direct me.
I was in an environment I lived in for several years, so I grabbed my car keys around a time that was habitual for me, “back in the day”. I flicked on my car lights with a risky glare in my eye (I never questioned it’s existence), gave my neck a little stretch, and took off for a night cruise. Night drives used to be therapeutic as I always found someone a little more scared than myself in some corner. Tonight was lonely and I was seeking Marijuana- would it ease my aching pain and be my shoulder?