Of Tow Trucks and Treats

13,882 Days Alive

6 Homemade Chocolate Chip Cookies

2 Fresh Donuts Eaten

1 Set of Keys Locked in the Car

Poor Bitty. Itty Bitty, also known as my stepsister Brittany, locked her keys in her car in her haste to give us a half dozen homemade, super fluffy and cakey, splendidly soft chocolate chip cookies. Whoops.

We stayed with her till the tow truck came, obviously. Can’t just strand a girl an hour from her stomping grounds. Doubly true for another weird relation/family of mine. She’s not a blood sibling at all, but I’d still be willing to throw fists for the kid. Itty is a real fuckin’ pistol, though. Her fiancée better not dull her spark!

Anyway… the funeral was yesterday. It feels like forever ago. Like, it was last week or month or something. There’s just a giant mental block there. Like it wasn’t real. Like I didn’t see my mother’s final resting place was a fucking cardboard box. Like I don’t now have to worry about my siblings in Chicago nigh endlessly. Because if they give up or stop caring, they’re boned! Completely!

They have to pick themselves up, dust off, and then grow the hell up and realize they’re both older than the legal drinking age and need to start acting like it.

It was so odd to see the damage mom had done so… completely. Infantilizing the boys to the point of learned helplessness is a fuckin’ crime. And it is yet another reason in a long list that she went to her grave with unresolved problems between us. I don’t hate people. But man can I hate their choices, their actions, their words.

We met with the boys for a late breakfast/early lunch down in Chinatown proper. We went to my favorite bakery in Chicago’s Chinatown: Chiu Quon. I got Mellon’s favorite barbecue pork buns, a half dozen sesame balls, and a cone of sponge cake and a peanut mochi for myself. I’ll be bringing it all home tomorrow.

I have to get up early to take Aaron to the airport. We’re only five miles away but still. I wouldn’t want him to miss his flight.

I’m so worried about the boys. What they’re going to do with mom gone? How they’re going to live? Will they end up homeless again? Or worse yet, are one or both of them going to fuck up a medication or several medications, and end up dead from a psychotic break from reality or an over-zealous police officer? I worry they’re not going to step up and live their lives. It’s not even a matter of them striving to improve themselves. They’re barely making it work now and without mom, they’re a rudderless sailboat on a still lake.

What will happen? What will happen? What will happen? Should I prepare myself for the worst or hope for the best and leave on the metaphorical blinders as I move forward. I hope the best for them, but fear the worst.

It’s nearly midnight and I’m just blathering. I’m going to bed.

Take your meds folks.