Life; Death; and Wildberry Skittles.

Journal,

I went to Patrick’s school today for the bi-weekly meeting. It was great because they let me shadow and watch how the process works. Hope Bridge was not a place I liked, but I am in disbelief after today. He was talking manna a lot. And he was so proud to show me how smart he was. They had magnetic little cubes that he was able to build different letters, and once he did, he would verbalize the letter’s names and then shout, “I DID IT!”

Sometimes, I forget he is with me for the rest of my life. I know it, but I have not fully processed it. Do you want to know a secret? Sometimes, I am okay with it. Trapped on a desert island, WHO, Amanda, will you pick? Um, fucking Patrick every time. Every time.

In other news, the girl’s parent-teacher meetings were both sanguine. Anna could work on her reading, but she is still at the top of the class. Walking home, I felt introspective. Sometimes, I feel so ancient. Alien by Bush was playing on my playlist. There are so many memories, good and bad, but mostly good. I had hope and trust in life. Everything felt so real and powerful, as if I could taste the air: God and love. Remember laying on the hood of the car and watching the stars? Brett pulled up with those Wildberry Skittles. They were on that front shelf of Albertsons- that grocery bag shirt. You know he told the kids about that when they visited him in rehab? And now he is blipped out of existence—a bright star, A black hole.

Besides Brett, there was only one other person that I connected with on that level, although it was complex. Not anymore; Josh is currently in assisted living. Drug use? I don’t know; last I saw him, he wanted to jump off the King Edward Hotel in Jackson, MS. Always the pool, forever the tree. Sorry, you lost your mind.

I fucking loved that job at Albertsons. B