hyper reality

I remember when I was like 7 or 8 when my mom would ever so often take me to go watch figure skaters at the local stadium. There was one time when I heard American Pie by Don McLean for the very first time and I bawled my eyes out because I thought it was so sad, but beautiful. If that were a daughter of mine, I think i’d cry too.

I also remember, right after my mom and dad got separated, the song Mountain Mama came on the radio and my brother sobbed “turn it off, I miss daddy.” I don’t remember my mom crying but looking back, there’s no doubt in my mind she was.

Then the memory of seeing my mother, my world, in a heap , weeping on the kitchen counter while my dad sat downstairs in “his chair” comes to mind. I can still remember her pain and I remember feeling it and crying harder then I thought possible.

But then I hear that pain in his voice from all of the years of rejection and guilt and I find myself almost expecting a call, informing me of my fathers mortality.

“i’m puking up my overlies and chainsaws oh my goddd” she types while sick from being slightly emotionally involved.

Do I ever go on tumblr now-a-days without getting stoned?