I was rolling in a memory.

There was her, and she is here.

So close that I can taste her.

Anything else is not as clear.

I am waiting on the front porch.

Somehow, hope that she returns.

I take it all much slower now.

No more candles, both ends burns.

The kid is sleeping land of slumber.

When she wakes, I see she grown.

So much to be thankful for.

Regrets of past, no more are shown.

Having thoughts lots about dying.

And other things that I don’t know.

Its not the fear that’s got me down.

Just that I don’t want to go.

Now sure I know I have no choice.

Has been made abundant and clear.

This transformation is all the rage.

I just kinda like it here.

I hear all this complaining.

What’s wrong about this and that.

You never really stood a chance.

With an attitude like that.

The north coast of Nova Scotia is somewhere between the middle of nowhere and God’s country.

Somehow, I was still there when I was 18, and she’d been dead for 7 years. I would still look for her whenever I was in a crowd of people. Straining searching. Imagining that she had faked her death to get away from me. My mother. By the fall of 1977, I guess I figured she was really dead. All of this I kept to myself. Winding wrapped tight. In my tiny bedroom on a twin bed in a mobile trailer on an acre of land at the edge of Deception River is where the nightmare began…

I ripped out the window screen at the foot of the bed one night and the screen at the head of the bed the next. Screaming some nonsensical rage about “I’ll get you! You motherfuckers!” The next morning the fingernails were torn and bloodied from ripping out screens. Both windows smashed.

I could hear the breathing coming from something somewhere. I held my breath and lay still on my bed, making sure it wasn’t me. I looked under the bed and under the trailer. Nothing. I was alone… except for whatever was breathing. It felt like it was coming from inside me. I had never been so terrified. I forgot to pray. I forgot God.

After a few days and nights of this, I realized that I had to leave that bed, that bedroom,that trailer, that acre, that river.

I left and never returned…

Heidi sat down at 5:15 a.m. on the bellhops cart at the Shangri-la Hotel. She hiked her skirt between her legs and lit up. She had the air of someone who had been here before and around the block. Attractive, blonde, and street smart.

The bellhop was young and talking a mile a minute, waving his arms and smiling… Heidi’s smoke break was the highlight of his night.

He asked her what champagne she liked, and she answered him, looking at me. I was waiting for someone to come down to take to the airport.

The bellhop said something else, and my mind faded, taking in Heidi and wondering what she had on her mind. She turned after a few seconds and smiled at the bellhop. “All these rules and no order.” She said.

I repeated what she said and laughed. She must have heard me because she looked my way again. “All these rules and no order indeed Heidi.“

September seems to be a time of the year when things begin for me…

In the beginning, it was always a new school in a new place with new people.

Here we are again, and my daughter enters a new school, but this generation seems more stable. More firmly feet in this strange new world of pronouns and discontented hearts screaming their collective dissatisfaction!

As previously mentioned, this is also my anniversary; 19 years Alcohol and drug free. Thank God! The real miracle here is no desire, zero cravings.

Which coincidentally matches the date that I started my last beginning 3 years ago of being a single father. This could not have worked out better. We do remember the struggles with the greatest fondness.

Onwards we go…

3 years of being a single parent.

19 years sober.

The 2 are connected!

I believe that over time, certain sayings or lessons prove themselves to be true. A recent favorite of mine is:

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished…

It took a while for me to wrap my head around this because maybe I’m guessing that I have this Western Christian ‘got to be helpful thing goin on!’

Whenever I loan money, I don’t expect it back, and I am seldom disappointed in my expectations.

If I help someone who doesn’t have a place to live, then I know for a fact that the probability of them leaving before being asked to go is nil, and they will not be kind in their departure.

My daughter, who loves animals, has the same qualities, and I am trying to teach her the errors of my ways and a family tradition whose time is at hand to end.

She is trying to help and rescue a stray cat, and her efforts have resulted in that cat attacking our cat.

I have informed her that I can not and will not incur vet bills as the result of her kindness.

She said, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

“Exactly.”

I was running out of something.

Like patience, love, or steam.

Maybe never had them anyway.

Just a wish inside a dream.

Getting jacked up on adrenaline.

From a haunting distant fear.

Something real not imagined.

From a time called yesteryear.

So I sat down and did nothing.

No assumptions, to let it go.

I prayed and said some words to God.

Might be best that you don’t know.

I don’t know why my baby loves clowns.
Whose painted on tears never fall down.
I don’t know what she sees in their eyes
Perhaps the line between horror/surprise…

I don’t know why my baby can’t sing.
Why carnival music isn’t her thing.
It fills my head when I’m at the fair.
Searching for clues in clowns everywhere.

I don’t know why she screams at night.
I hope it’s not why she holds me so tight.
Because I’m the type I’m weak for love.
Carnival music I rise above.

Is it the pain or is it the tears?
For some carnival crime from yesteryears.
Maybe it’s you, maybe I’ll never know.
Maybe it’s me, baby let go.

(chorus)

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings horses and all the kings men.
Tried and they tried but she fell down again.

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
She went to her shrink ended up at the mall.
Humpty Dumpty wanted it all.

Dennis Mantin

There’s this alley in the back lot.

Down by the tower near the dome.

She is living under cardboard.

In a box that she calls home.

The boredom overtook her.

She left the kids with just a kiss.

Growing up, she supposes.

It’s not so bad, but smells like piss.

There’s that guy who said he loved her.

He drops off food to ease his pain.

Doesn’t know what he’d do different.

If he could do it all again.

Sometimes, she does remember.

In her mind, details fade…

There’s a hero and some villains.

And a church where she once prayed.

In her dreams, there are two wolves.

One brings light, and one bad seed.

She used to know that angel.

The other she did feed.

Dennis Mantin