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Dec 2015
I remember when I bought my first guitar, I was fourteen years old, my momma said to me "Son, you better get good at this" and I assured I would and that I'd practice every day. I got pretty **** good at it, too. I remember when I was a child in the hospital, suffering from a brain that was telling me to die, my momma came and she brought me some notebooks and some pens, and told me to write it all down, she said "You write down your demons and you keep them in here, so they don't get out, and you write everyday, son." And I did, almost ten years later, I write everyday. A month from now, I'm driving my mother to Baystate Hospital in Springfield to get a portion of her brain removed. She could wake up and have no memory of us, so I guess it's a good thing that she made me write everything down, just in case. I can remind her who she is. She can read about who I am, and my brothers, and my sister. She'll get to read about the times I broke my arm, the time we thought my little brother was missing, but he was just sleeping under some blankets. Maybe I can leave out all of the nasty things I've said to her. Maybe I can leave out how unreasonable I was and how I ran away from her. Maybe I can leave out the part where I signed myself into DSS custody and never told her about it. I may never be able to take them away from myself, but maybe I can take them away from her. Maybe she can read about what a loving family we are, and I can leave out the part about my sisters past drug addiction. Maybe I can leave out the part about my father breaking her heart. Maybe she can learn that we all just love each other and that we're all happy. Maybe we can all finally just be happy.
Tim Isabella
Written by
Tim Isabella  Massachusetts
(Massachusetts)   
678
 
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