I am going through the hundreds of drafts that were started many years ago, and posting them when I don’t have time to write. Some are incomplete, but if they are close, I will finish them up or something. Here’s the first one. I think it was about two or three years ago.
That’s how long I have to wait for my sweet baby’s embrace. I’m practically vibrating, and that’s after doubling up on Robaxacet and Gravol, so I should be comatose.
Oh yeah, I sort of fucked up my shoulder at work, but I’ll get it looked at when I get home. The last time I got hurt out here, Worker’s Compensation wouldn’t let me move home, because my employer was offering light duty work. The problem was that light duty is 40 hours a week at a reduced wage. It wasn’t enough to pay the bills and live at the same time, and there is no way they are telling me I’m not going home on Thursday.
I really miss those girls of mine, and the rest of my family and friends too, but this trip wasn’t a waste, even though we were shut down a lot. I spent the first week I was there, with John and Leona, and their family and it was great as always. John mentioned to me, as we were talking about homes and that feeling you get when you’re at home, that they never feel at home in their house. That seems odd to me, because when I’m there, it feels a lot like their home. Leona is always cooking up a good supper, Johnny is half snoring on the couch, and Cooper is knocking over a tray of chocolates or other goodies,
I got to spend a few days with Aaron, Lannie, and the boys over the holidays, and Lannie’s folks invited me over for one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time. It really made it easier for me to be away from home, and as much as I would have liked the overtime, that money wouldn’t buy a night of darts and rum in the garage, or the look on Lannie’s face when I told her about the shit lunches we were fed at the old Lennox camp. I also would have missed the boys, who are growing up too fast, calling me by my first and last name. All the time.
“Chris Bird, do you know which Ninja Turtle this is?” or, “Hey Chris Bird, do you want to come for a Ski-Doo ride with us?”
I can’t help but smile every time. They are really good kids, and I miss them when I’m not there. As much as I like most of the work I do out here, it’s my friends that are the deciding factor for me. Yes, the money’s good, but it’s just money, and we can get by without me coming out here to work. It’s just that I miss it. I miss so many things about this area, and the weird thing is that even the worst of it holds a place in my heart. Maybe it’s because it is the first place that I just said “Fuck it. I’m going to Fort St. John to find some work.”, and that’s exactly what I did. I worked, made some great friends, and I learned a lot about myself here.
I learned how independent I can be, and also how far into depression I can sink. It’s pretty far, but I’m sure I would be a lot deeper if Aaron hadn’t of told me to move the fuck home. I’m pretty sure those were his words, but there might have been a “…you miserable fuck.” added on for good measure. He could see it, even though I couldn’t. I knew I was fucked up, with the anxiety attacks and shit, but I didn’t realize I was depressed too. Well maybe I did, but I sure wasn’t admitting it to myself. So I took his advice and packed my shit up and went home.
Then I re-met Mrs. Birdman. We went on some dates, and after a while, we fell in love. I fell a lot sooner than she did, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that she makes my heart bust open like a can of Pillsbury Crescent Rolls and no matter how much I love spending time with my friends, I like spending time with her more. I really miss you baby, and I can’t wait for you to blow into my mouth as I give you a big, tooth kiss.