Little Darlin'

"Stir It Up" by Bob Marley

...it's not really about the words this time...but at minute 3:25 starts this melody that stops the earthquake, pushes your life off the edge of death, and gives the solutions an outline at least, which is better than the nothing you had before...

Yesterday I travelled to my third world democracy: the parentals. My Dad has been asking for me to come over and discuss some suggestions he had about my life.

It's funny: suggestions about my life. As if my life is some piece of unfinished art, some uneditted book. But I guess it is. That is exactly what my life is.

He and Mom think it is a good idea that I go home, but home as in Sierra Leone. I think it is a good idea. They think that I should get away from this "toxic America", and I think I agree. I am immeasurably unahppy. I am constantly lonely. My vices are my friends now because my friends are simply inadequate. My friends lack nothing as human beings or as caring friends. I simply do not care about my life enough. However important they say I am in their lives does not translate into a reason to live.

But I know that I should be alive, so I am quite conflicted. I cannot lose anything by going back home for a while. Maybe being away from my vices will help me make more and better friends.

The thing that I worry about though is my Mommy. I do not feel like there is anything to be done to get her back. My pictures are missing from the living room. I know that was her idea. My father would never be that angry. And it is painful. It is that kind of painful that chokes you and makes you cry even when you do not want to. You are simply forced to cry at even the most inopportune of moments.

Funnily, I did not notice my pictures were gone until I was about to leave. It rocked me so hard that I could not even wait for my brother to finish talking to my Dad. I had to go to the car and cry like I had died. My pictures were gone...as if I had died.

I wrote her a letter. I said I missed her. I said I loved her. I apologized. I said I missed her. I cry all the time because I just want to talk to her. And she has removed my pictures.

I cannot just walk away. I cannot just let it go and move on. She is not a mean boyfriend. She is my mother. And my Lima Bean. I have to be in his life so I have to be in her life. The guilt I would feel if I left Lima would kill me so I'll endure the torture that is seeing my mother who does not say a word to me. He is worth it and if I think of this problem in terms of Lima and not Mommy, maybe I will not cry so much.

Because at minute 3:25 of "Stir it Up" until the song goes off, I have the outline of a solution at least, which is better than the nothing I had before...