crack is whack

My friend’s husband went on a cocaine rampage while she was out of town with their baby daughter last week.

A year … two years ago my husband and I weren’t my husband and I and we went to visit them in the middle of Redemption Southland. He’s a good old boy, I’d met a few times before. Been sober a while, shorter than me, but still –
We talked about things, laughed, got a long.
They’d been married a while then. I’d been at their wedding in the hills of Tennessee. Done the requisite best friend thing and flirted with her brother even.

And now this.

He tried to score crack from a friend of theirs.
Snorted.
Stole.
There were pills in the truck he drives. The usual suspects; kolonopin, xanax …

and she’s walking this path of questioning. Anger, resentment, loathing, dread. Not wanting to see him and missing him so badly it hurts. I wonder if, when you find someone who’s broken, you think “okay – this person won’t fuck up anymore – this person is going to be fixed and I won’t have to be the glue that holds us together”
so when they break, it’s that much more heartbreaking.

Crack is whack

Maybe Whitney was a prophetess.

http://www.shelsilverstein.com/indexSite.html

we went walking last weekend and I kept seeing places in the road where the sidewalk ended. Just spots in the grass with squares of cement. I wanted to take a picture and say “this is where the sidewalk ends” but it somehow seemed too sad. Today someone sent me a card with the Missing Piece on it. It just said “I love you”.

Crack is whack and I love you too