Once Again
Rusted out beat up old Ford pickup truck sat beside my Father's house, my Aunt dropped it off yesterday. Front bumper smashed in, side windows knocked out, and a bright blue plastic tarp over the top because the roof is caved in. The back of the truck packed with tree branches hanging over it, intentional of course because the tags expired in July of 2001, so the dead braches cover most of the tag.
I took a peek inside... The drive's side door had been smashed in, must have been long ago judging by the rust, and the inner workings of the door were bent open so you could take a peek inside. It was littered (inside the door) with beer bottle tops and an old piece of clothing, reeking in a stench of god knows what. Trash littered the interior and torn vinyl seats. Generally, it was worse than something from Sanford and Son's.
Dad said to me "This is where he slept. You know, he really wants you to write him."
Walked back in the house, wrote down the address for the Clearwater Correctional facility and almost not wanting to, shoved it into my pocket. Maybe I should visit him, been a long time. I wonder how he looks? Ragged I am sure. Wonder if I will even bother writing... it is not that I don't care, just...
Went into my Mother's old room, laid down on her bed, and even though it has been since May since she slept there and the sheets have been washed, I can still smell her. Broke down... mourning for the tears she must have cried over her 3 other children, all whom threw their lives down the toilet. I am glad Mom you can't see this... see that he is back in jail. See the beat up truck he called his home. See him only call Dad to ask for money.
Sitting here, not sure if the empty sadness I feel is for my parents or for Ray, and the precious life - his own - he has wasted.
6:32:12 PM 
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