The depth of silence that surrounds me currently is
something I’ve grown unaccustomed to in my new life. Normally at this time on
this day of the week, there is perpetual chatter, consistent interrogative
vernacular, and the never-ending churn of the only season of P.J. Masks on
Netflix in the background. By now I am usually surrounded by up to four
children, all of them with their own line of questioning and commentary. They
go in and out of the house, and sometimes they are gone for a while, but this
time is different. There will be no interruption today. I am alone in my home
for the night.
I don’t want to come off as unloving, so I should say that I
love having the girls and their friends over and am happy to help them learn.
This is as much their house as it is mine—although I pay way more than they do—and
I told their friends that they no longer needed to knock or ring the doorbell
when they came over so they are always welcome, too. I am saying that just for
tonight, I am all by myself—Amanda is at work until late—and I plan to enjoy
the quiet. Well, I plan to watch a movie is what I plan to do.
I’m done with my 5th day of work on a seven-day
stretch that includes a ten-hour day tomorrow, and an unusual workday on
Monday. To my knowledge, we only work two Monday’s per year, Memorial Day and
Labor Day. This signifies the end of the busy season in many restaurants as
kids go back to school, and the fall season presents itself in theory. It’s
been a long summer, but the time has flown by for me.
Three months ago we officially moved into our new home. I can’t
believe I just wrote that. Three months and we’re still here. Nothing major has
broken, all of our bills are current, and everybody is still alive.
Looking back at some of my previous living conditions, I can
see there has been major improvement in my life. My first apartment in
Richfield was not a good fit for me, so I stopped paying rent and instead
turned to hard drugs. I started a small fire, was convicted of a felony for
said small fire, and was asked rather harshly to never come back again. I didn’t
because I was locked up for quite some time, and was embarrassed at the
condition I left the place in. Come to think of it, aside from the small fire,
every place I have ever lived while under the influence of my will has suffered
the same consequences. I have destroyed, demolished, and literally burned my
way through other people’s property.
Now, over time, I’ve been forced to pay back many of my old
landlords. Recently, for the first time, I wrote a letter of amends to my
landlord in Fountain, from about five years ago. It’s been two weeks since I
sent the letter and I haven’t heard anything back yet. I have done my part, and
am completely willing to pay back whatever I owe them in the form of unpaid
rent, and the costs of cleaning up after my life which ended up as a prison
term. I also must accept the fact that, sometimes, people don’t want to hear
from me, or don’t want to reply. I can’t blame them: I have caused a lot of
hurt.
The important thing is that I keep cleaning up my past so
that my future is free of the bondage of resentment and hostility. This is an
action step of the 12-step program I work, and it is necessary for anybody who
was truly sick like me to start this process as soon as they have thoroughly
accomplished the previous eight steps with their sponsor. It’s complicated and
difficult work, but the payoff is life itself.
That’s as introspective as I’m going to get tonight. There
are tons of movies I should be watching right now. Sometimes it’s ok to take a
night off from responsibility, and tonight is my night.
