Posts Tagged ‘memories’
Christmas came and Christmas went, and in the wake of Santa Jesus we found the flotsam and jetsam of a child’s joy –what I’m saying is, our living room exploded and gave birth to a metric ass-ton of baby toys. And now, over a week later, I’m left rocking back and forth. In the corner.
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Looking back, staring forward. Standing on this head-of-the-pin moment between two years — an arbitrary distinction, perhaps, from when one calendar becomes useless and a new one must be hung, but a distinction just the same and a fine enough moment to pause and reflect.
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Was four years ago today that my father passed away, and I wrote a little something about it in one of my e-books, Revenge of the Penmonkey. Thought I’d take a piece out of that introduction and pop it here, talk a little bit about my father’s death and what that meant for me as a writer.
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The hangover I suffered was as such where I felt like a room full of balloons with a floor made of nails; I dared not move for fear of expiring then and there. Every ounce of my body hurt. My brain felt like a caged rat gnawing through rusty hinges in order to escape. I knew if I did anything but sit on my bed and stare at the wall I would cry out, vomit, pee myself, and explode inside my skin.
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Somebody — and I won’t name names, but he’s the tiny dude over there in the high chair, ahem — is now eating solid food. And by “solid” I of course mean “pureed into a largely non-solid state.” It’s not like he’s eating turkey legs or shelling pistachios.
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