Thursday, February 21st, 2008
“Mommy, I want some chocolate milk.” Stormy then bellowed from the family room.
“Sure thing.” I said as I got up from the computer chair and walked into the kitchen. Opening the door to the fridge, noticing that chocolate milk was something of a memory. “Shoot.” I mumbled as I went in to explain to the little monsters that there was to be no more chocolate milk. Four smiling faces were waiting there. Staring up from their movie. Looking at me with hope in their eyes.
“We are all out of chocolate milk” I calmly said.
“No…. I want chocolate milk!” they all screamed. Their faces turning from angelic to demonic within seconds.
“Okay.. I will go to the store.”
“I want chocolate milk now.” the five year old bellowed.
“We are gonna die of being thirsty.” The angry mob chanted.
“Mommy is getting dressed right now. I just have to put on some clothes and makeup.”
Now, trying to reason with a five, four, three and two year old is just not gonna work. They do not know reason. They are so self-centered it is funny. I moved as quickly as I could. Trying my best to get dressed without making them even more angry. The twelve year old trying to put the two year olds little shoes on. “Mom.. Isaiah kicked me.”
“He is two.. It could not have hurt you.” I said.. Hoping he would be shamed into silence.
(more…)
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Saturday, January 26th, 2008
Olympia, Washington
August, 1992
I remember the first time I saw a dead body. It’s burned into my memory forever, I think.
I was walking with my best friend Adam to the local quickie mart. We were eleven years old and the summer was filled with scouring for loose change under sofa cushions and taking our findings to the store to buy candy. On this particular day we were approached by a homeless man before we made it halfway to the store. He was dirty, old, and close enough to death that we could almost see his soul departing his body. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes were wide and empty saucers, and his lips were the cool blue color of the summer sky.
“Spare any change?” he barely croaked through toothless gums and cracked lips. I put my hand to the front pocket of my jeans and felt the few quarters, dimes, and nickels that were soon to be exchanged for lollipops, Hershey bars, and a can of Coke. My heart caught in my throat.
I’m not a bad person. I swear I’m not. Most days I would have given the guy all the change I had… But whether it was because I was hungry for sugar or that the man looked like no amount of change would ever turn his luck, I said, “No. Sorry.” And Adam and I walked on.
We got our candy. We got our Coke. We were happy about this.
On the way back home, was saw two police cars with their flashers on and a strip of yellow tape hung between a few trees on the side of the road. We approached cautiously, each of us already knowing what had happened.
In the space of time after we left the man and when we had returned, he had died in the ditch, someone had called the cops, and they were now taking pictures of his body.
We saw him lying face down in the scotch broom and ferns. He was only slightly less alive than when we had seen him before, and one-hundred percent gone.
I’ve never felt so guilty over anything in my life. Even though I know it wouldn’t have helped him survive another day, my giving him all the change I had (a measly dollar something) might have given him some hope at least.
I still lie awake nights and think of him. His black eyes and blue lips will haunt me forever, I think.
Peter
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