Eyes open. The pain sets in. The first thought of the day is “Did I remember to save some?” The thoughts of the night prior run through my head. I spent all the money I had to ensure I would have some for this morning, but the mental tape I just played of last night’s events proved otherwise. I’ll have to take a cotton shot. I find the empty baggies and vials, gather up whatever used cotton balls that were previously used to filter the dope and coke, and set up shop. Frantically scraping bags and using paper clips strategically bent a certain way so that I could get every last speck of drugs from their containers. I was an expert at this. Grab a spoon, preferably one my wife won’t miss. I put everything in the spoon. It’s a pitiful amount. Then spray the water in. The smell it makes when it’s heated makes my mouth water. The whole time I am doing this, I am trying to snatch the thoughts of “how am I going to get more?” from the jumbled mess of every other thought in my head. It is torture. I put the solution in my arm, and I’m off. I don’t think about my family, I don’t think about my health, I don’t think of my safety or freedom. I think about the task at hand, my primary purpose. Get to the hood, hopefully get a tester or two (The free samples of heroin they give out when a new package hits the streets) and get busy getting money for more. I know a few boosters (kids down to run in stores and steal shit to pawn later) that will surely need a ride around, even if my tags have been doctored and I have no valid license. These details meant nothing to me, they were as significant as what color socks I had on.
I was a monster. I only cared about one thing, and if you were in my way, I ran you over…but only after I got whatever I could get from you. My son included. I have to say, it’s not easy writing this, but it is the truth. And contrary to some people’s opinions, I have no reason to lie and hide anymore, so I do my best not to. A few people have expressed already that they appreciate this, and I have no intentions of stopping.
I told you that, the description of how most of my days went, to tell you this: I live a different way today. I experience no pain when waking up. I actually am thrilled to start another day. I find my direction, usually outside when I’m done my cigarette, and get busy being a daddy. “Canaan, good morning honey. Did you sleep ok? You know you were talking in your sleep right?” Canaan laughs, “Really daddy? What was I saying?” I pause and give him my most serious face to let him know I mean business. “You said something about wanting nothing more than to get a new Barbie playhouse, full of the most beautiful Barbie dolls and then having a tea party.” He drops his head in the pillow with laughter, “HEEYYYYY, NO I DIDN’T DADDY!” I confirmed that he didn’t and we both laugh it off. Breakfast needs to be made, and I think about if I were 8 years old, what would I want. So about 6 to 7 minutes later, I call him out and watch his face light up when he sees waffles with 3 kinds of syrup and Teddy Grahams arranged neatly in a circle around the plate. A child that acts as if he can never eat half of what is put in front of him regardless of the original amount on the plate, finishes in record time.
We play, watch tv, draw, go to the pool, laugh and carry on, hug and kiss, and we talk about G-d….Yes, that’s right, I talk to my son about G-d. I share my experience about G-d much like I do “the new guy” only in 8 year old language. And I am here to report that it’s working. My son equates saying thank you at night for everything he has to why he’s been sleeping through the night soundly. This is a blessing. I love this life. And furthermore, I recognize that I have something to offer, but only when I let G-d handle everything for me.