Entry Three

Present

It’s Friday and the nasty weather is causing my knee to ache. I really need to work on those exercises my physical therapist taught me. The rain outside is pouring and the bitter old women in my office are still bitter. We’re heading to the mountains this weekend for the last camping trip of the season. It might snow. Maybe a little bit of snow in summer is a good thing? I’m going to take heavy sweaters and long jeans just in case. Might not be able to go on a long hike this time, but as long as I can still have my evening camp fire I’ll be happy.

Past

New Mexico was probably the most beautiful state I ever lived in. I was seven and my father was stationed on a military base in the middle of the desert called White Sands Missile Range. The base was a lush island surrounded by sand, cacti, sagebrush and shadowed by small mountains to the West. My brothers and I spent our days riding bikes in the desert sand, collecting horny toads, lizards, geodes, tumbleweeds and shed rattlesnake skins. During the summer we would swim in a gigantic Olympic sized pool built in the 50’s. Afterwards, we’d hang out at the base movie theatre and pay a 50 cent matinee admission to see some old Disney film made about 10 or 20 years ago. Life was good back then. It was probably the only time I enjoyed living with my Mother.

My parent’s rec time was spent at the NCO club getting drunk with their friends then going back to the house (or someone else’s) to get high and party. In fact, my mother would give our babysitter joints as payment for her services. I remember my brothers and I would harass the babysitter while she was locked in bathroom getting stoned. We’d push the towel out from under the door and slide through pieces of paper with strange drawings and notes just to antagonize her.

Life on the base always seemed relaxed and carefree. I’m sure the drugs had a lot to do with that. In fact, my mother's friend who lived down the street grew weed in her carport. The woman had a few contacts in the MP office that would call her with news of upcoming raids. Once my mother yelled at my father to run his ass down the street to help her friend move the plants to the roof of her house because the MP’s were on their way. She had two very sweet daughters who were a few years younger than me. The youngest had hydrocephalus and the drainage tube was visible under her skin. I used to give her helicopter rides, grab both of her wrists and swing her around and around. I adored her smile.