Fig trees, flowers, and rum
May’s my hardest month. I thought it would be because it’s Alison’s birthday on the 12th or because she died on the 24th.
What I wasn’t expecting was how hard Mother’s Day was going to be for me. For us, rather.
Him: My teacher gave me a flower to give to mommy. I told her I didn’t have a mommy, so can I give it to you?
Me: (nodding slowly) Why don’t you give it to grandma?
Him: That’s a great idea!
I went to see my mom on Saturday.
Her: It’s good you came today! I got a fig tree. Can you help me take it out of the car?
Me: That’s why I’m here.
Her: Now you can have figs over the summer!
Me: I always wanted that, actually.
I’m less a person and more a tree myself, I think.
I bailed on someone again that night. Lost track of time.
Her: If you don’t want to meet up with me, just tell me.
Me: It’s not that. May’s not a good month for me.
The next day, I saw my SIL and MIL for brunch in Hoboken.
I left a bit early to help a friend with a computer project and to meet a different young lady.
That’s another story for another time I suppose.
Chad came by this afternoon with rum, vodka, and some kaluha because he knows it’s May.
I also spoke to Mouse about some, mainly admin, things but that’s her story to tell. I will say that she did me yet another kindness. Two, actually. And you know how I feel about kindness.
There’s more to that story too, but that’s all I want to say at the moment.
As for me, everything’s exactly as fucked up as it’s been. But the rum was delicious and the company was appreciated.
It’s Alison’s birthday on Wednesday. She would have been 42.