I truly don’t even know where I woke up this morning. I do know I’m disappointed about it. Not that I don’t know where…
…but that I woke up at all.
I managed to get some money and made my way to the metro stop in Owings Mills. When I get there I shuffle right to the ticket machine. My money goes right in and I know exactly where on the screen the next option I need to click will be. I’ve done this before. Too many times for this reason. In fact, I don’t even remember once that I took the metro for nobel reasoning. It’s always been for something evil. In any case, I’m starting to sweat. By the time I walk the short distance to the entrance the ticket is damp. I feel like everyone is staring at me. The businessmen and women. The staff. The hood rats. Shit even the little kids are ice grillin me. It’s like their eyes are talking to me. The eyes of an eight year old are sayin “You fuckin scumbag. One day your kids gonna be my age and you’re gonna be dead or in jail and he’s gonna grow up without a dad or some other niggas gonna raise him for you. Is that want you want, little bitch?”
And this kinda shit happens constantly. And when it happens, I just shake it off. It’s like when you fall and hit your head and see stars and you quickly shake your head side to side to try and get your shit back together. I shake it off and hop on the escalator.
The train is bumpy. The window is like a television to me. And just like life, the picture in it is blurry. Everything is going on outside. People on their way to work. Trees growing. Birds flying. Wind blowing. Cars driving. Shit is moving fast… life is moving fast out there. But on this train, in this body… more specifically in this cold heart, life is dragging on. It couldn’t end soon enough.
Shake that shit off.
I like to look at people. My grandmother used to sit on a bench with me on the boardwalk in Bethany Beach when I was too young to go cause havoc on my own and teach me about “people watching.” She explained that she could sit there and do it for hours. I could never sit still long enough to want to do it that long, but I do it often today.
You would think someone dressed like me, dirty like me, desperate and sick and looking like they’re gonna die any second like me…would keep their head down right? Nah, I like looking people dead in their eyes. It’s weird. It’s like I want them to see how hopeless I am. Either that or I want them to be like “Fuck you lookin at white boy?!?” So we can scrap and maybe I’ll end up not being able to look at anyone ever again.
Long, very long story short… I get my dope and get right back on the train. I decide, “Fuck it. I’m gonna bang this shit right here, I don’t give a fuck.” That was true. I don’t give a fuck. The speakers in the ceiling signal and that same tired ass voice comes on saying “For your safety this vehicle is being monitored…blah blah blah..” I look at the black dome camera mounted on the ceiling, smiling. I give it a wink, and get my shit right. The train is still bumpy, didn’t stop for me just cuz I need to shoot up. But I’m nice with it. I used to be able to take care of business driving with my knees, on an exit ramp…when I still had a car I mean. Imma get one soon though.
I wait till the doors close, somebody is two seats in front of me. I drag my sleeve up, poke my arm, pull that blood up into the chamber and boom. It’s in. The train bumped and I didn’t get it all in, so I just squirt it in my mouth. The train shuffled again, and I missed a little bit and got heroin and blood on the side of my face. I look up and this over weight black woman is looking right at me.
I look right through her and shake it off.
Yesterday I packed the kids up and my friend from Philly up and we drove to that same metro center. I was taking them to the circus. Might not be a big deal to you and believe me, I understand that. But for me, to take my kids to the circus…well, that in itself is something that brought tears to my eyes.
We went into the garage, me and the kids shouting the whole way so we could hear our echoes. It was funny when the baby tried it. Not quite loud enough to echo, but mine and my older sons laughter echoed immediately after every time. So it worked out. We went in and walked right to that same ticket machine I’ve been at many times before. I coached my friend on where on the screen to push and I had a quick flashback. We walked to the same escalator. It didn’t feel like anyone was looking at me. Went up to the landing and boarded.
The train was bumpy still, all these years later. Still bumpy. Only this time, I had my baby on my lap. He was holding my hand. When I tell you for me, this experience was nothing short of magical, you better believe me. I’m not gonna bore you with what happened the rest of the day in great detail. We went to the circus. We walked to the harbor. We walked back to the train. We drove home.
But I will tell you this:
I don’t think I will ever be able to do something as uneventful as riding a subway and not think about my prior life. I don’t think I will ever forget about how alone I was. I won’t forget about how I was suicidal and truly did not care whether I lived or died that day. I won’t forget about how my son grew up for his first seven years on earth.
I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to.
I will also tell you that I am completely ok with that because of how I felt yesterday. I felt the presence of G-d simply by boarding and riding a train. Does that happen to you? It does for me, more often than not. And especially when I’m with my kids. I look at the world differently. The train window holds opportunities to teach and grow and be taught today. It’s a very rewarding way to live and I couldn’t be happier about it.