The house of the house of the house of

I walked along the dirt path and looked for quartz stone.  He told me The quartz stone was precious.  I was so lucky.  Every step that I took I saw what I thought was quartz all around me.  Every time I took this path it was the same thing - Quartz.  I walked back the same path to the house.  The house is in sight now and I feel safe.  I am not alone anymore.  My rocks are with me but they serve only as glory.  They do not hold any protection.  I am looking for you.

I was wondering if you would like to come teach me how to roller skate on the porch.  You Velcro my skates around my shoes.  The little switch on the bottom allows me to be known or not to be.  You always let me ride with the cling.  I was known.  I was known to me and you and it mattered.  That porch served as years and years of purpose.  I can never remember a time where we couldn't all fit on the swing, no matter how many of us there were.  I watched you water the flowers.  You watered them until it was dusk.  Every time I water my garden, I think that I am slighting them.  The amount of time that you tend to your greens - I am falling short.  The other side of the porch served as a kitchen where I made things that only we knew how to eat.  It took a stomach made of one hundred stomachs to digest our recipes.

There was a bus that used to take you across our country.  It sat in the brush.
There were acres and acres of the apple orchard.
There was a cherry tree that we could reach from the door that fell to the patio.
There were grape vines that we were forbidden to eat from.
There were berry bushes.  PLENTIFUL berry bushes.  Raspberries, strawberries, BLUEBERRIES.
There was an apricot tree that we climbed.  I never saw an apricot grow but you said that there were apricots when it first arrived.  That means there were.  I just happened to miss it.  I don't like apricots too much anyway so I am not disappointed.

We had our rocks.  Our special rocks that we sat on and one was royalty.  We never proclaimed this.  It was just known.  I never did not sit upon this rock - ever.  Not because I'm better but because that's just how it was.  I was the eldest and I owned it.  I would let people sit on the bottom lip of the queen rock and that's where they remained.  Never would they cross the line and challenge me.  There would never be any hoisting for little ones.  I ruled over this kingdom and I knew it.  I played it cool though.  I didn't want to "Hitler the place".  I wanted them to feel like they had a choice in the matter.

They didn't.  They were there but they were just existing...passing time.  I was living it.  I lived every moment and breathed only the air that went through numerous inspections and was placed before me.  It was the air that was meant to be there.  There are few memories that I have in my life that sucks me back into the moment and I am swept away.  I am on that rock.  I have no fear or need to compete.  I just know that this is where I am allowed and this is my spot.

My hand touched the outside of the home.  My hand was hugged by every inch.  You built this with your own hands.  I felt your imprint with every hand I placed upon this house.  This house was not just a structure, this house was a home.  Our families soul was enraptured.  I feel it in my dreams and I can't shake it.  You and you and you are always and forever.

The Other

The first time I laid eyes on her I was completely taken.  She took me to somewhere I had never been.  She stood there with her lips pressed against the mic singing of things that I could not even hear in that moment.  She held her guitar more perfectly than I could want her to.  I stood in front and studied everything about this person.  It can't be possible that I am having these aching feelings of lust.  I have a boyfriend that I live with and we will one day be married and have children together.  And now all of the sudden I'm standing here face to face with a girl.  I am in love with her.  I'm a lesbian?  Aren't we born with this shit?  How did I not know?  I watched their whole set and near the end I start thinking of ways to get her attention without seeming like a stalker.  I hope my life partner is not picking up on my new found love.  I was trying to play it cool.  As the band was packing their gear up, I saw one of my guy friends talking to her.  I walked up to him and he hugged me and introduced me to my crush.  We talked for a little while about where they were from and how they got on the bill for this show.  She asked me why I was there and I explained that my boyfriend was in the band that was headlining.  She didn't seem impressed.  When my boyfriends band came on she walked up and stood next to me.  This wouldn't be the last time we stood together at shows.  We became friends.  She became the best friend that I would ever have.  I stood up for her, fought for her, I made people bleed - all for her.  This was all in the name of friendship.  She had no idea that I was head over heals.  What did she do for me?  She got high off me sticking up for her and it made me more subservient.  She would one day show me how much our friendship meant to her.  Which I learned very quickly was very little.  I had no idea she was capable of remaking me forever.  She did and I am now me.

I like my Dickies

The two of us fly from Juneau to Seattle.  From Sea-Tac we hoof it to his cousins house.  We are staying with his cousin and her girlfriend before we begin our drive back east.  By the time we get to their condo it is almost dark.  I'm starving.   I have not been in a restaurant or any "establishment" for that matter in eight months.  I have been in Alaska on an island that populates less than a hundred people.  I hope I have something else besides Dickies and a sweatshirt to wear.  I dig.  I don't.  When we are ready to leave, all four of us are pretty much wearing the same thing.  We get in the car and start driving.  STOP!  Oh my god, oh my god!  I haven't been in a car in eight months.  These people are driving like maniacs!  As we drive out of the parking lot, I grasp the back of the drivers seat.  I peek over the drivers shoulder and see that we are going 31mph.  It feels like we are going at least 65.  Fucking speedometer must be broken.  I can't shake this roller coaster sensation.  We pull up to the bar.  Thank god.  I get out of the car and try and compose myself.  I'm not hungry anymore.  I need a drink.
We meet our friend, Arlo from the cannery.  A familiar face.  I'm a little more at ease now.  We walk into the bar and sit at a table.  The whole place is blue.  Everything including myself take on the color of the bar.  We order drinks.  They ask for everyone's ID.  I'm 18 so I order a coke but I come prepared.  I drink half my coke and then discretely fill the rest of my glass with bourbon that I carry in my Nalgene bottle everywhere.  We drink and tell stories of our adventures in Alaska.  I'm tired.   I lazily walk back to the bathrooms.  I wash my hands and look in the mirror.  I'm about to turn around to open a stall door but something catches my eye.  Work boots.  Than I see another pair of mens shoes facing these work boots.  Oh shit- am i in the wrong bathroom?  I'm in the god damn MENS room.  All of the sudden it was like someone pulled ear plugs out of my ears.  How the hell didn't I notice this before?  The stall is shaking and and their heavy breathing is making me feel like I'm being raped.  I walk out of the bathroom to go to the ladies room and as I pull the door open - I notice I am in the ladies room.  Great!  My bourbon filled bladder is about to explode.  I walk back to the table to explain my predicament.  Mid-explanation, Melanie bolts toward the restrooms.  It's a straight shot from our table.  We watch her march.  Her every step is made with great intention.  She's going back there to kick some ass and escort them out of to their slightly missed destination.  Damn!  and thank you.  I finish telling my boot knocking story and Melanie sits back down.  She looks like hell.  Melanie says "I kicked the fucking door in and my girlfriend is making out with some dude."  Seven years in a relationship and this is what she gets.  I'm drunk and ready to go home.  Melanie's girlfriend and dude walk outside the bar.  Finally, I can pee.  We walk out of the bar and there stands hooker girl waiting to apologize.  They start screaming and we say goodbye and take the bus back to the condo.  We pack our bags, walk back to the airport and wait till morning for our car.  If she would have just worn heels maybe the whole night would have been different.

Phones were put on earth for a reason

I drop my kid at her preschool classroom and run down the hallway.  I have to train some people do some stuff so they know what to do.  I'm almost there and I here a woman's voice barely eek out my name.  I stop, turn around and see that she is not having the best of mornings.  This woman is lanky, needs her hair tamed, bug eyed, maybe 45 and I may or may not recognize her.  She begins, "I do not think I can make it to the meeting this morning".  Then she acts as if she were a mime and rubs her stomach but her hand never actually comes in contact with her own stomach.  Great! Perfect!  Stomach flu!  Just what my whole family needs.  I can't help but picture my kids barfing all over everything in my house.  I'm already sick- I feel it.  BACK UP LADY!
Her eyes start welling up.  I'm thinking no, No, NO!  Don't you dare cry on me.  Please for the love of god.  She steps in a little closer and I hold my breath for as long as I can and then take very tiny inhales hoping this will shield me from the disease.  She proceeds, "I had a miscarriage."  Holy shit!  I wasn't expecting this at all.  I mean I don't even know who this woman is.  Why is she confiding in me?  I find myself wrapping my arms around her and then she just lets go of all composure and breaks down.  I suck at these moments.  The moments where you have to console and nothing you can say will mend the terror they are feeling.  If there is nothing I can say to make this person feel better then why try.  I'm stuck, trapped and speechless.  She starts apologizing for having to miss the meeting.  She's telling herself that it's going to be okay.  Wait!  I'm supposed to be telling her these things.  I fake tell her that I'm sorry and of course she does not have to attend the meeting.  She keeps apologizing.  She wipes her last tears on my shoulder and walks away.  She pushes the door open and she mouths "I'm sorry".
I'm baffled.  This lady could have have called the office and told them she was sick.  She could have sat at home with her husband or sister or teddy bear or whoever.  Instead she stumbles into school disheveled and crazed, looking for someone.  For some unholy reason she chose me - I'm sure she'll never try and pull that stunt again.

Welcome Home!

I made it through boot camp, combat training and MOS school (twice).  Now I know what the corps is all about and I want out.  They are going to send me overseas and they want to me to die?  I'm not doing it- Not for George W. Bush.  No way.  Send me the hell home.  I drink, fight, show up late, never show, get thrown in jail, disrespect everything and everyone around me.  They put me on restriction and took all of my personal belongings.  "You may only have Marine Corps paraphernalia."  Oohrah!   I continued with my shenanigans and they finally said "GET THE FUCK OUT!"  And so I went.

It's October 30, 2003.  I take the bus from Meridian, MS to Washington DC.  What am I going to do now?  I am home and a civilian again.  One of my friends calls me to come over for a Welcome Home Party.  In honor of having no honor, I graciously accept the invitation.  The party is pretty boring.  Everyone is wondering what the hell I'm doing back.  I make up some sad story so I didn't seem like such a douche bag.  People see right through my bullshit but I pretend they don't.  I don't need to feel any worse than I already do - I am an enormous pussy for abandoning my comrades.  Hey, but I get to live, right?!

After rearranging a neighborhood HOA sign to read something heinous and offensive we come back inside to plan our next covert op.  I walk downstairs to round up some more warriors.  I turn left off the staircase and see a black dog sitting on the floor, wagging its tail as if waiting anxiously for his treat.  I take a couple steps toward the dog and realize that I'm walking straight into a porn flick.  No, there was no television in the room.  The walls and carpet are white and the lights are bright as hell. 
I'm squinting my eyes just to make out what exactly is happening here.  There are two guys next to the bed.  One guy is rubbing himself through his jeåns.  The other guy is taking notes like he's going to be tested when this is all over.  All three of them are glued to the live action.  I'm trying to figure out who the chick is that's under this mess of a man.  HOLY SHIT!  It can't be - oh it is!  I fucking hate this cunt.  It didn't matter at that moment.  I had to get her out.  I tried.  She was completely inebriated.  She didn't mind at all if she had spectators.  I turned around and walked back up the steps giddy with gossip.  Welcome home to me.

"STOP BITCH!"

I only got a glimpse.  I tried to catch her but she runs with the wind and it must have been a really windy day because I'm fast.  Maybe the fastest person on my street.  My street is full of old right-winged crazies so that might contribute to their weakness.
I asked one of my friendly neighbors if they had run into this bitch lately.  This 5 foot 10 inch piece of Slav said "I only know one bitch around here and I'm pretty sure I've seen her around".  I stood there and thought well shit maybe I am slower than I thought.  Than I took a step down off his porch and looked at  his hand in his pocket.  He always had at least one hand in the pocket of his pants.  My eyes shifted to his smirk.  That smug bastard is talking about me.  He thinks he's making a joke?  My kids come running across the street (without looking - of course) and start dangling from my arms begging me to come play.  This pocket hugging jerk-off has been blessed by the Republican gods.  I turn around and walk back across the street.
I'm back on OUR side of the street.  I've decided that I'll never go back over to the other side again.  I kick the ball with my kids and forget about the Slav.  I start thinking about that woman that I must stop.  I tell the kids to line up.  Mommy has to practice sprints.  The kids are excited.  They ask me what a sprint is.  I show them and they are amazed at my speed.  We start racing.  Next thing you know the guy from the other side of the street is standing in my yard.  We stop racing and he starts blabbing about some shit that went on with the underground railroads.  I never really listen to him.  Everything about this man bothers me.  Even when he brings us half opened bottles of wine.  Nice gesture - big asshole.
When he finally leaves we run inside.  I make dinner and as we are eating my son tells me that I'm never going to get faster because I just won't.  He was right.  No more sprinting.  I really want to catch up to her just to see if I can.  That's my plan.  Anytime I see her, I'm just going to run like hell and maybe one day I'll stop her.  I have to catch her - my life depends on it.