I better get to the point of this, the Ambien Walrus keeps tapping his watch and clearing is throat (you don’t want to hear that – just trust me) as if I’m taking too long. We all know there is no risk of typing on a network conected laptop after a half bottle of merlot and some abmbien. My computer doesn’t even have a camera.
(the phone in my lap does. Shhhh. We don’t want to alert Ambien Walrus)
For halloween we have fun dressing up and going to parties at school or friends’ houses or wherever. We are not crazy good at costumes like so many you see on the internet, where they build frames and cover them in material and have a sountrack and liht up eyes. We are also not nearly quick enough on the draw to pick a character from recent news Whomever is Sneaky Matthew Stafford will win tons of cool points, although the people near Dallas may be too butt-hurt from the game still and just give you a box of rocks.
When my oldest was about 4 the world trade center was attacked along with the pentagon and another airliner which never made it to the target. That’s some scary shit, a month before halloween. Kids being small and pretty resilient didn’t dwell too much on it, they realized quickly that there was only so much they could do to affect the outcome. So they just lived their lives and listened to adults talk about it.
Holy shit I digress. (Ambien Walrus just let out a *snort*.
Fifteen years ago we were a licensed foster home, taking in school age and younger children and giving them a home and love and life while lawyers dwelt on details and parents argued and eventually their fate was sorted out. We had the pleasure of taking in a tiny little scared boy. He and my son became inseparable. They weren’t the same age – at four a difference of seven or eight months can be a big deal. Their hair, eyes, skin and voices didn’t match. I could have sworn they were twins.
They did everything together. Playing with toys. Running through the house. Playing games. Eating meals. It was grand. I don’t want to give much info about this little boy, but know that his mom left a friend watching he and his big brother and ran to the corner market for some cigarettes. She forgot to come hom. Months would go by with no contact with the mom, other than a cold trail that led immediately out of state.
Months passed, a year, more. The State decided it was time for a permanent home. There were more issues, in that he had an older brother, much older than any of the kids we had fostered (we were still “new parents”). They didn’t want to split them up, even though they had been living apart in different foster homes since mom vanished. We talked about it and agreed we wanted our first to also be our oldest, and not suddenly find himself a middle child one day. There’s more to it (I try and keep it simple and because, ambien)
On Halloween, 2001, we woke up with him for the last time in our house. We had a pretty normal day, there were costumes and games and treats at day care, and that afternoon they came over to the house to pick him up. We knew his new parents, they lived a couple hours away, we knew they would be great parents for our young friend. (We also know that they do not celebrate halloween, so hopefully he has some memory of the mountains of sugary candy we used collect).
I tucked him into his car seat and kissed his forehead, as I had done a thousand times before, only this wasn’t in my car. I told him I loved him, and finally said goodbye. Then they were gone and we cried, for this beautiful family has their “gotcha day” but we lost one of our own.
He’s in high school now, maybe about to drive. I don’t know if he still doesn’t celebrate halloween. I miss the little guy and his crazy laughing.
Ambien Walrus says it’s time to put the fucking laptop down before somebody gets hurt.(image courtesy of Drew)
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