It felt like splinters.It felt like my parents abandoning me again. It felt like every lost pregnancy. Like every person who has died. Xmas in a red solo cup.
Then that text, My boys coming to me for Xmas. The fuck it, this is my girl, lie N die love. Under the breast of a feathered wing of an angel they caught me up and closed in. We were missing Lulu n Lance…. But only in body. They were with us via word.
I sat in Sully’s lap for most of the past 48 hours. Like a child warrior who is to broken to be a woman. They loved me so hard, I cry as I type. They willed me to be ok. To be truthful, to own the next steps.
These men are brutal lovers of the human being. They give up more than I can ever write… To serve a greater good. When they speak of politics or current events its done with a WHAT CAN WE DO? I am both mama and baby with them all. Even the Boss.
It is a verbal story. I made love on a bus rooftop in Africa with Rusty. He was how I managed to keep on… My girl was Lulu who’s real nickname is Kiki, no verbs.. We traveled the world, so familiar it was as if we borrowed the same skin. These people are my essence. I was so fucking abandoned as a kid.. So heartbroken as a new adult. I owe every inch of my existence to them. Eric found me in Peace corps and never ever let me go….
He saw in me what I wanted to be , yet had no idea how to achieve. He saw the hero in the lost and broken. He painted my face , held my hand and sent me in. I didn’t just succeed. I found my breathing pattern. I held other’s children and my babies. I had rat bites, and desert wort, malaria type 2. I walked thru sewage and dead bodies. I got stung by ants in a flood so badly my body went into shock. I learned tribal songs and dialects. I watched women drop off their kids and keep going. I saw men beat their wives. I saw a boy my sons age kill his sister. I drank out of a gasoline tin and yelled at military. I licked the waxed balls of an american treasure of an actor for a 1000 tents. I had my five mins with Eddie Vedder and went mute. Jimmy Carter is my hero and B Clinton my personal Jesus. Because they r unsung. U think U know what they have done….. U dont. Not even by half. The most flawed love the hardest…
My boys went to E’s brothers Xmas party tonight. Three cars of all of us. My fellas were rock stars tonight. Because Es family is one of service. They live as they love. With humor and character. Beer pong with 3 generations. A skype call with my son in the middle where 39 people sang to him. Life got real tonight.
I breathed in and remembered who THEY make me. I remembered that I am a great chick. They make me worthy and I love them so hard. We raised each other, protected each other, and honoured each other. We are good people and we all have our crazy. But put together, the puzzle is a dazzling picture. A soft lit snap of a foreign alley.
into the grey, Nicky and I spent hours face to face on my blow up bed whispering. Me in shorty leopard jamas and desperately clutching my new unicorn, he in his neon orange boxers that say stud on them. We rehashed and reordered. We shared a a set of ear buds and let the Pacific wind wash over us. We lived and died. We vowed to live and die harder.