Unavailable (Book #1) Read Count : 147

Category : Books-Non-Fiction

Sub Category : Biography
   When stress starts eating your body from the inside out and you don't have anyone to talk to,  just put the shit out there in writing for everyone to read. By that time everybody sees that you have changed and have created their own version of what's going on in your mind and in your life. You know how some folks are... Instead of trying to help you, they share their ideas with everybody as if they have the facts and this is how gossip can further destroy a person that
is already feeling low. To make matters worse that small part, that may be true, is mutilated into something totally u6nrelated just to create drama...never in your favor. They like to be a star in the eyes of others. To them, this is fame... If you appeared to have it all together before something took place in your life that changed you, they will make that life changing event into something that is always much more dramatic than what it is in reality. They secretly delight in what they hope is your permanent downfall because they want to be ahead of you and have difficulty accepting your success. Understand that some folks truly have difficulty being happy for you when you have achieved a goal. They refuse to acknowledge it, claim that you had help or act like it never happened. At worst, they may call you a lier behind your back. This is only a certain caliber of folks, those that don't want to work to achieve what you have worked for in life or those that tell themselves that they are superior when, in reality, they know that they are not. They feel entitled to everything that you have earned although, they have not sacrificed and worked the way that you have worked over the years. 
   It amazes me how folks have time to sit back and scope out your every move while trying to figure out how you manage to get things done. If they see you working and doing things yourself,  common sense should make it obvious that you are a "doer". You can't accomplish anything sitting on your butt and digging into everybody business. If they used that "nosy time" to work on a project or goal, they could defeat that unacknowledged and deep seeded feeling of inferiority. Accomplishing a goal means that there is no time to be nosey. 
   Everyone goes through a period of change that affects their behavior. Whether they become quiet or impatient or totally happy and full of energy, that realignment of self is usually temporary. Life is like a kind lady that suffers occasionally from PMS. ...get the picture?
  I am sick of their little uneducated guesses and outright lies resulting from their deep sense of failure, insecurity and need to elevate themselves at the expense of others.  So, since folks are so damn nosy, I'm going to write about whats been on my mind for the past six years and why I have separated myself from most people. If you have a problem with it, its your problem and not mine. I am simply putting it out there...the things that folks like me think but, rarely say. So-, I will most likely end up stepping on some toes and crushing bones in the feet of many others. While it may take a few days for some to recover, it may take many months for others and some will carry the effects a lifetime. ...but, one thing I will not do is lie to save the pride of others when the damage done was at my expense or the expense of someone that was placed in a very similar position. I am not hardly perfect but, I try very hard to be fair and decent even when others have not been very fair or decent to me. That's what hurt so much at one time. That was my painful wake up call. The longer a person goes through readjustment, the wiser she becomes if she keeps her emotion under control. As the great Bruce Lee stated: " Emotion can be the enemy..." As I work through all that has and is happening, I attempt to move on. The problem is that I see the end of my path and not a path that appears endless and filled with the unknown like most others. I want to open eyes with the hope that others will become more aware of the effect that their actions have on others, especially those that refer to themselves as "religious folks".
   I do not give much credence to that description...  Many of the folks in the church are the biggest creators of chaos. ...spreading "the word" while busting open the gates of hell like they are going home. They can keep their word to themselves because they do not have the same morals and virtues that I have embedded in my spirit. Inside of each one of us is a conscience and we know good from evil but, many times we select evil because it appears quicker and more comfortable. After awhile, goodness becomes dimmer in the memory and overshadowed with the negative illusion of life and how it is suppose to be. We sink into the pit of wrongdoing while convincing ourselves that we are right. ...but, I'm going to start this book off with a letter to my enemy. There are some things that I need to get off my chest so that I may move on. The biggest part of me wants to say it directly to him. However, he is actually lost in that deep pit of self righteous  negativity and vindictiveness that to express myself to him would only give him the ammunition and leverage to create more disharmony. He is the type to take your expression of pain and make it a reality again by recreating that living nightmare as he sits back, laughs and jokes with those that follow him at your expense...picking away at everything that makes you whole. I have decided that it is best to treat him like a nasty parasite, for lack of a better term. The human part of me sees him as being this, due to his relentless, cruel and selfish actions. He feeds off the tears and fears of those he feels threatened by with the ultimate goal of destruction. What do you call an image, in the form of a man, with behavior and goals like this? I call it diabolical behavior. To behave that way means that this is what's in his spirit. I try to trust in My Creator and I admit that my faith tends to waiver.  Like a maiden with a lantern, I look for my Savior so that I can run to HIS open arms for comfort. 
   I'm writing this for me as this is how I also express myself and move forward to things that are worth the minutes of my life... I don't have the time nor the energy to waste making my words appealing as not to offend anyone. I want you to feel what I feel and imagine yourself in my place. So-, don't read my story and expect for it to be grammatically perfect and don't switch into that self righteous or judgemental mode and pick my grammar and message apart. If you plan to do that, read the writings of another author, keep your judgement to yourself and go on about your business... I am writing this for the open minded to see as I free myself from the negativity by casting it out in writing for what it is...
    My soul has been severed by its neck and now I feel this body of flesh floating off. My nerves are numb now and the body is beginning to lack sensation. My mind tells me that this is a preparation for what is to come and I don't fear it. I have been abused and tormented in a way that's so deep, it changed my spirit and numbed my physical body. All of this occurred after being kind and helping a neighbor. So, my lesson has been to be careful of who you help because a very generous deed can be twisted and the results can strangle the life out of you. The torment that resulted has remolded my core being changed how I respond to people and how I see the world.
   The backlashing lasted four long years and its essence can still be felt today. My level of comfort is infringed upon daily and done deliberately to torment my self worth. Vandalizing my peace is done daily as if the goal were to destroy my body through stress related illness. I have stopped talking to everyone except a select few. I put my ear plugs in, listen to my music and wave only to acknowledge out of politeness. I am not interested in chatting and I am certainly not going to ask how most are doing because I really don't care and don't want to hear their complaining. I just keep it real basic unless it is someone that matters to me. I love a good and genuine spirit. I love and treasure peace.
   I am not and never will be a warrior. I am a giver and healer. I hate chaos and I stand clear of those that create and love it. I love my family so much that I am stuck here to endure whatever...by myself. I don't want to disrupt the joy and comfort of my loved ones. So, I say nothing about all that I encounter. I have been through things that were too heavy for my soul to carry and folks of certain caliber seemed to enjoy this. What more can they put me through? Rather than involve myself in something to help another, I have learned to turn my back to many things without giving it a second thought. Now, if it involves someone very close to me or a person that my spirit identifies as being good, I become extremely protective because I know what its like NOT to have protection...not that my loved ones would not protect me or come to my aid. Its quite the opposite.  I just love them all so very much that I do not want to involve them in anything. Whatever happens to me just happens at this point. I'm just so emotionally and spiritually worn that even the idea of death doesn't scare me. It has become a welcomed commodity that will give me the way out that I have been praying for. There's not a damn thing wrong with me other than the fact that I have been forced to switch into survival mode. I am still a human with human emotions. I still struggle to keep from doing acts of kindness for others without a second thought. I still restrain myself and quickly force the thought out of my mind and justify my decision not to act with the memory of how one decent act of kindness crushed every ounce of my existence from the inside out. ...thanks to an image named "Stanley". 
   I call him an image because he is a male form. That's all that I see...not a real person because he seems void of sensitivity and true love for others. Because of this, I find myself referring to him as being "it". There is something unusually sinister about that image and I really don't care to know all the details. I have looked for and tried to encourage good in that image by being good to it. It has the personality of a rattlesnake that doesn't give warning and will strike you with the hope of raping you of your own life to satisfy its own need for comfort. I have never seen nor experienced anything like it before and certainly pray that this is my first and last time. This image has crushed something that was once beautiful in me and to this day, it just keeps seeking and biting me for no apparent reason. I stand clear of it.  It trespasses on my property at night and destroys what I have worked for and created. Then, during the daytime, it poisons the minds of the folks that have been hypnotized by its lies...transferring its evil deeds to my plate and making itself appear to be the victim. For awhile, I thought that I was doing something wrong but, that's how deception works. It lures the naive into it's pit and conditions them to think that they are inferior. Those that trust it become a member of its army...doing its dirty and unethical deeds. Those that are not fooled become the victims because it wants to literally whip them into submission like a slave master. What on earth do you call this? I say this to let you know and completely understand that everybody that attends your party is not there to dance. Some are there to make it into their own movie for personal enjoyment. So- while you are on the dance floor "busting a move" like Young MC, it would be in your best interest to look for those that sit back in dark glasses focusing only on you. ...better stop, look at those eyes and do a security check...
   I am alive but, weak after this war. I am being carried by My Lord. I haven't had the energy to stand, walk or breath on my own for quite some time now. I feel like I am being dragged through this life but, in reality I am being carried. My Lord had taken on the heavy burden of carrying me through a life in which I am no longer able to walk. Only through the grace of My Creator and Savior am I existing at this point. 
   I do not serve the same God that the image called "Stanley" worships. If I did, I would be living in harmony with him, delighting in all the chaos and tears that he has caused others. It goes to what it claims is a house of God but, I know that the cross it wears and Bible that it carries is merely a shield to deceive others and serve as protection. ...and trust me, so many are fooled by it. No, we do not all worship the same God. God is in ones spirit and every human body that sits next to you in church is worshiping whatever is in his own spirit whether it is good or evil. 
   I am not at all fooled by that image called "Stanley" and it knows this... I know deep inside that it fears me but, I have no intentions of harming it. Like I stated...I am a giver and healer. I am not a murderer of souls. That image called "Stanley" feels the need to watch me because it is afraid that I may turn on it and destroy it as it has attempted to do to me. Its fear is unwarranted but, the things that it has done to me keeps its mind hyperactive and paranoid because it expects me to do the same. But, I am not that way ...never have been and never will be. One's own mind is the creator of karma in most cases. The deliberate actions of a wrongdoer creates a fear and paranoia multiplied beyond imagination in the mind. Our conscience has a way of creating situations to its very extreme...creating the absolute worst scenarios if our intentions are bad and creating a wonderland for those with good intentions. I know that the image called "Stanley" has many sleepless and uncomfortable nights...fearing the penalty of its diabolical actions and intentions. This will not end until his spirit and mindset change. The more he deliberately does to harm others, the more his mind seems to focus on whether he will get caught and confronted. You can take the sweetest person on the planet and accidently "push the wrong button". The actions that follow depend on her past experiences and core spirituality.
    That image called "Stanley" can't even look me in the face anymore. I try not to find it amusing and struggle not to taunt it by speaking to it and making it speak back. It ought to be ashamed of itself and it is but, just can't seem to leave folks alone. It sees that sweetness that once dominated my spirit energy...changed... rearranged and now very cautious. It can't look me in the face because it does have a conscience although, it is not guided by it... It knows enough to know that I know what it is... That image called "Stanley" is not sorry as it continues to do the same things as if programmed. It creates chaos then retreats to the basement of its house for days where it is living now. The upstairs has been pretty much cleared out, all except a few pieces of furniture to deceive others. It can't hide from me or deceive me. It knows that the God I serve is SUPREME and that its actions have offended HIM. That truly precious part of me that was destroyed, I am reminded of it each time that I look into the mirror...I am not the same person. I was literally raped  and robbed of the person that my Lord created me to be...changed without my knowledge or permission. I woke up one morning and saw that change in the mirror. Another image in the space that my image occupied, at that time, with bits and pieces of the person I use to be. Just enough to remind me that I was looking at myself. That other part...I didn't recognize nor did I like it. I cry because that woman in the mirror looked like a women of the world that you see hanging in front of little nasty neighborhood liquor stores that cater to those that have rendered themselves useless in society. Before I write this letter to that image called "Stanley", I need to tell you about where I now live. Understand that it is the opposite of the world in which I grew up. So- imagine the complete opposite of everything you have ever known except for the interior of your home and personal land. See this clearly in your mind...
   
    I'm just- existing in the bowels of a city now referred to as "B-More" but, when the title was left undefined, it quickly became a volatile city that looks more like it has been violated by war and never rebuilt. Abandoned and dilapidated buildings surrounded by high grass, debrais and trash. Many of those buildings have been abandoned for so long that trees can be seen growing out of roof tops and out of broken windows. ...much of it is owned by the city. In many areas, trash can be seen in the gutters, people hanging on almost every corner and in front of convenience stores located along the strip, in between and on the main roads early in the morning, mid-day and at night. Nothing to do and no dedication to any gainful employment...many have never had a job but, receive public assistance. They meet and hang at the same location every day gossiping and bragging about who they think they are while swaying ungracefully in different directions as some illegal drug/alcohol allows their hidden thoughts to be exposed. You see them as you drive to work in traffic at 8:00am and see them in the same area at 6:00pm or 6:30pm when you drive home tired. In my case, many times I wasn't feeling well but, went to work anyway. Of course I catch that attitude of anger and frustration. If they are strong enough to stand on a corner in the heat and cold, they can certainly do something productive in society.
   Its over 95° outside and I watch the excessive sweat on their faces shimmer in the sunlight like silver glitter.  Sitting at the bus stop on a bench that says " Baltimore, the greatest city in the world" while working folks stand and wait for the bus. Plastic bags stuck in the few trees that exist in the area as you drive defensively to avoid those that blow across the street in front of you so that it doesn't get tangled under your car. As you swerve to avoid riding over a plastic bag, you hit a big ass pot hole and your soda spills all over your blouse. If you hit enough of them, you will be making a trip to the mechanic. Maybe this is why so many drivers seem to swerve as they drive...alignment issues, avoiding potholes or under the influence...I just don't know. Oh...don't forget those that think they can text and drive while avoiding those obstacles.  Nothing but people walking back and forth across the street. That's the attraction on warm days. I don't see a single tree planted in front of the stores on that main street to give the area some type of curb appeal. My car window is up, radio playing softly but, I can still hear the conversations as they stand in groups hollering at one another like they are a block apart. They want to impress, I guess.  I drive carefully expecting someone to walk from between parked cars and into the street. They seldom use crosswalks in this city. Some are intoxicated/high while others appear to have the attitude that vehicles must stop so, they keep walking making you apply breaks. Some have small children with them and appear not to care much about the safety of the kids. They stand behind the stroller pushing it out into the street, before emerging themselves, seldom using the crosswalk. If a car were to come, that stroller would definitely get the worst of it. In this city , the way of thinking appears to be "hit me and I will sue you". 
   The humidity is high and my air conditioner is on low. I don't do well in the heat but, I have errands that must get done before I go to my house. My breathing is very slow and my lungs automatically use the air it holds sparingly. I'm really not feeling very well but, I press on because I have things that must be done. ...taking it slow.
   While at the stoplight a squeegee teen walks over to my car to try and clean my windshield. Its too hot for him out here so I give him the last two dollars that I have in cash and tell him not to wash my windshield. I stopped carrying cash a long time ago after a man attempted to rob me while I was in my car at a bank machine. I became so enraged that I tried my best to run his ass over. I even went up on a curb or two until I caught myself and decided to call the police instead. I didn't want to 
mess my car up. After all, he did not get my money.  ...but, that's another story about life in this city. Anyway, I don't mind giving a couple of dollars to a kid that is trying to earn money. At least they are not robbing, killing, stealing or selling drugs. 
   As I head toward my home in the city, I see the haze over the buildings. It looks like a slight fog...I know that I am descending into what feels and looks like an improved version of hell... I visited my parents uptown after doing errands. The sky was an ultra marine blue with clouds that stretched across the sky like cotton balls pulled out of shape. I guess you can tell that I love to paint. (smile) The huge gorgeous oak trees towered and dominated the area bringing with it a cool breeze and the sound of nature. I was at home, very relaxed, peaceful and content. I couldn't stay long because some folks in Baltimore like to trespass and steal whatever is easy to carry away. 
   Why the hell did I buy a house in the city? ...from heaven to hell... What was I thinking? Then I had to remind myself why I bought this particular house. I didn't buy it for the location. I bought it for the memories that it holds for me. I purchased a part of my childhood. I like familiarity...not to crazy about change. For one thing, I was young when I bought this house, wearing rose color sunglasses and seeing only memories when I looked at the house. This house was owned by my ancestors and to top it off, my parents were married here. I have vivid memories of crawling around on the floor as a baby, family dinners and the overall beauty of this large lovely home with the sunlight at its peak , shining through the stained glass. High ceilings and a perfectly well maintained Victorian style house left pretty much original. I remember crawling around the house feeling like it belonged to me and I belonged to it. It was up for sale so I bought it...not observing the area that surrounded it. I had tunnel vision.
   Its called "The City That Bleeds" on the street but, I simply refer to it as "Murdermore" due to the high body count, disorderly chaos and political corruption. There is no protection here...  Almost every block within the inner city has at least one body attached to it. Although the body outlines fade after awhile, the area is often remarked with other body outlines... symbolizing other murders. Some don't have a chance to fade before other chalk lines are drawn. The murder rate is steadily increasing. Many of us walk down or drive through those streets seeing the image of those long faded body outlines over and over again.  Dead person , long sense removed from the scene but, the memory keeps that scene alive and active in the mind. Sometimes there are faded flowers, a teddy bear and balloons attached to a lamp post near the scene to serve as a constant reminder of the violence and life that was lost. In some cases, there are candles and empty wine bottles, maybe a faded photo of the victim in a plastic frame and candles on or near the spot where someone took there last breath. In my mind, what always happens is my memory plays a re-run of what happened. I have seen dozens of bodies on the streets of this city. I recall most...  I can't help but to glare at each spot where that body layed...reality fades into the past bringing back the memory of that body with it.  
   My mind replays the entire scene. In that spot on the street, a human body fades from chalk line to ghostly image to solid body. Echoes of women and tiny children screaming as the most memorable moments turn into crystal clear still pictures in my mind and freeze there for a moment. ...a still frame, perfectly clear and detailed that I can't forget.
    I am no longer inclined to be that shoulder to cry on... snot mixed with tears, saliva soaking into my blouse and drying on my skin. This city has changed me and I am so very different now...I don't want to embrace a person in that state. I wish them comfort from a distance. I am already overtaken by the heat and ready for a bath as murders usually happen during warm weather. I just don't want anybodys snot, saliva and tears on my shoulder. I feel nasty enough. The smell of overheated folks standing around in a crowd...some guys smelling of cheap cologne while others obviously haven't had a bath in quite some time...that stuck on baked on funk that would make Zest fail the test. The smell of alcohol in the air like a mist being sprayed in your face as some folks speak making me sick to my stomach with every inhale. They had that 40 oz. but, the smell of their breath makes me feel intoxicated. I want to throw up but, there's nothing in my stomach. As my stomach twists and flips, I gag uncontrollably with as much grace as possible trying to visually hide what's happening to me. ...not that anyone cares or that I want them to. 
   ...and I remember that guys face now. He was always walking up and down the street, leaning into cars on the passenger side while clearly making an exchange. Always wearing dark clothing with his pants hanging off his butt. Now, the hat that he always wore was several feet away from his body covered in blood. Someone literally blew his head off. I looked at the body, like everyone else. He was shot "gangsta style" with a single bullet between the eyes with some brain matter oozing out and a four foot trail of blood leading to the gutter. His eyes half closed and mouth slightly open. His body actually looked kinda deflated and frozen in position on his back like he tried to get up before dying. Money scattered around his body and some stuck in the blood trail. He was a good looking man of dark complexion but, in his death he had become very ashened and looked unreal. The palms of his hands were pale and the whites of his eyes were now hazy and grey. He didn't look real any more. A maniquin had more life. The spirit that gave him life was clearly gone. 
   My mind snaped back to the present. His body had been removed months ago. On that exact spot where he took his last very late breath, it was now covered with dried spit, chewing gum and trash. Hovering above are balloones tied to a post as remnants of bright yellow crime tape can still be seen swinging in the breeze waving as drivers pass by, wondering who was murdered and wondering if the story ever hit the news.  You already know in your head that it was a person of color most likely murdered by another person of color. Should I say that the  writing is on the wall or would that be inappropriate? Corner stores owned by foreigners with men and women of color hanging outside of the stores in large groups. ...nothing to do but gossip all day, buy alcohol from the liquor stores posted on every corner and buy fast food from carry outs that appear clearly unsanitary. It just seems to me that if you walk into any facility that prepares food and your feet stick to the floor, you would go home and sanitize yourself. 
    Someone says something to anger another...the alcohol and drugs make tempers flare and then they end up harming someone. Under the influence, skinny, unkempt and using street language,... I am deeply bothered by the people that I see. Though it is not me I am very thin and don't want others to classify me as being the same...because I am not. I don't think that I am superior but, my choices in life are very different.  I don't drink or use drugs...never did and never will... Exposure plays a big part in the way that a person thinks and behaves.  I am caught between a crossfire of anger, disgust and embarrassment. 
   Nasty spotted sidewalks with spills of every unimaginable sort, trash in the gutters, people walking down the street eating from a paper or styrofoam plate, dropping the trash on the sidewalk without a second thought. This city has rendered my mind unavailable to even myself at times.
  I am not sure that I totally understand the person that I have become. I see that deep piercing ready to attack persona in my eyes each time that I look into the mirror. It only came after moving into the heart of this city. Now I look just like them... From a very friendly, meek and fairly gentle person that would help anyone in need to a loner, not really wanting to talk to anyone except a select few. With what I have become and been through, I just chat with a God that appears to have abandoned me. Deep within my heart, I know that My God is with me. I could have been dead by now but, apparently my Lord has other things planned for me.

                             A Letter To: An Image Called "Stanley"
"Stanley",
   I will not start this letter out by using the greeting "dear" because I would not only be lying to myself but, lying to My Lord. All I can say is that I do not see you as being "dear". I could never hate you but, I don't desire any connection to you either. I have cut you out of my life but you keep "digging all up in it" trying to make me miserable and I have done nothing to you. I don't even know you like that... Thank God we never had any type of relationship except the fact that I have known OF you when I was a child but, have known your parents my entire life. So...what's the deal with you thinking that you have the right to dominate me? I already know what's in your head but, I am not THAT type of woman... You are angry because you can't control or use me like you do everyone else and I am not hardly intimidated by you. My prayer for you  is that you don't catch me at the wrong time and cross me with your foolishmess. My Lord has blessed me with peace and patience. I have turned you over to HIM. 
   I know your spirit well enough to know that you took joy in the tears that I shed in the past behind the condescending, deceptive, and pure nasty things that you have done to me. You and your "friends" even laughed when I was seriously ill ...in and out of the hospital...operation after operation. Sitting on my own front porch alone, weak and unable to eat a regular meal, you and your flunkies sat on a porch across the street and talked about me. For this reason, I would never tell you how you murdered a part of my spirit that I loved. That part of me that loved people and would go overboard to help anyone. I see it in my own eyes whenever I look into the mirror. The sparkle in my eyes is gone and has been replaced by a wide eyed expression of mistrust. Its that Baltimore look that decent residents get when they have been victimized ...
   If I called you a bitch, that would be inappropriate. So, I won't call you that...butthead...  I know what you are now. You took those dark glasses off one day and looked in my direction. You didn't think I saw you but, I did... Um Hmmm.. I looked into your eyes to see your soul. My soul fell into your eye sockets and spiraled downward into a maze of darkness and disorientation. There was nothing there and that's what you've been hiding. Now, you know that I know everything. You are not a person... You are many demons... envy, jealousy, chaos and deception to the most severe degree...to name a few. You are stuck in your own blocked bowels getting nastier  each second that you elect to stay there. I smell your stench blocks away and that's how I know where you are. My third eye sees everything that you do and I thank My Lord for showing me what's in your mind each time you focus on me. That's why I don't fear you. This is a spiritual warfare that you battle with many others and attempt to battle with me. Hiding your physical body in the basement of your house is a clear sign to me that you attempt to hide everything about yourself...and yes, you are at a very low point spiritually. I just pray for you but, I am not willing to make myself a target again by trying to be kind to you. I will always be decent because that's how I was raised...its embedded in me. To befriend you would only result in my acting out of character. You are a backstabber, a narcissist, a demented and twisted soul that I am not capable of helping. I do love you as a person, forgive you for all that you have done to my family and me but, I also turn my back to you. That's the only way that I can continue to forgive you. I see you and I don't hide myself. I have nothing in which to be ashamed. From the day that I saw that dark space in you, void of light, you have been hiding from me and literally running when you must come out of your dungeon. I must admit, it feels good watching your ass move so fast when you are too lazy to pick up the news paper on your front step.  I ask My Lord to take away that pleasure because that would make me exactly like you. So, hide yourself in that hole in your house and run when you come outside. I know its scary and uncomfortable. ...all the crazy shit that you have done to folks has made you paranoid and you don't know what to expect. That's what happens when you elect to hurt others.  I have a front row seat with a bag of popcorn watching as karma thoroughly kicks your ass daily. I don't have to lay a hand on you. Karma is doing an absolutely lovely job. I applaud that law. My biggest sin is that I keep taking delight in watching karma in action. I really need to stop that...      Signed: The Light That Knows You
P.S:
I ain't through...

                                                    It's My House

   I bought this house when I was in my 20's...the youngest homeowner on the block. I was single, worked in the justice system and did all of my own work inside and outside of the house. This is how it all happened:
    I was sitting at the dinner table at home with my parents one Sunday. I don't recall what happened but, whatever took place... it was stupid. If it were important, I would have remembered what it was about. My father and I did not see eye-to-eye in regard to something. So, I asked to be excused from the dinner table. I decided to go for a drive, took my purse and got into my car, started it up and quickly realized that I had nowhere to go. I really wanted to go back inside, go to my bedroom and close the bedroom door to show my dissatisfaction. Anyway... I had a point to make and to go back inside would only make it obvious that I didn't really visit anyone on the daily...like they already didn't know that. So, I just started the car and pulled off like I had a definite destination in mind. I drove around the community and I'm sure that neighbors mentioned to my parents , at some point during the week, that they saw me cruising through the community passing the same locations several times. Then, I got this bright idea. I was going to drive into Baltimore City and see my great great aunt and uncles old house. My great-aunt was the last family member to live there and she had sold the house about a decade prior. I had been thinking about it a lot that week, for some strange reason, and had a strong desire to see it again after all those years.
   I've always loved the house. As a child I can remember crawling on the hardwood floors looking up at the high ceilings and pearing at the sunlight shining through the stained glass windows and skylights. It was a beautiful old Victorian home that was extremely well maintained.  Antique furniture adorned every room and I was always intrigued by this. I can remember looking up at the ceiling and stained glass and thinking "This is my house." 
  Years later, my great aunt suddenly decided to sell the house and relocate to another state. The entire family was dumbfounded, myself included. There was no warning that this was even on her mind. She came over for dinner one Sunday and we had a great time. I particularly enjoyed it because I hadn't done anything wrong that week. ...wait... Let me rephrase that statement... I did not get caught doing anything wrong that week so there was nothing to mention about me at the dinner table to spark a scolding and lecture. So, it was a great dinner with laughing and joking. I was sitting across from her at the table and I noticed that she slid her chair back, leaned back slightly, folded her hands across her stomach,stretched her legs out and crossed her legs at the ankles. She looked like she really enjoyed the meal. I could tell from the smile on her face. She waited for that moment when we were all silent and said "I have something to share with you all!" It got quiet, I got excited and everyone focused on her. I remember thinking to myself  "Auntie has some news"! If I had a mic, I would toss it to her. Auntie had the floor! She looked around the table at each one of us with a smile on her face. We were really excited by then. ...and in what sounded like an announcers voice, she said : "I'm moving to South Carolina and I sold my house"!  Don't ask me how long it was before anyone spoke. I just know that there was a conversation and I truly don't remember any of it. I don't even remember what I was thinking during the conversation other than "You can't leave us Auntie" I just recall not being able to speak or move. I kept watching her because none of it made sense. ...my favorite aunt...leaving...
  I remember going over to the house with my mother on that last day and sitting in the entrance hall on a small couch with my cousin. All the furniture had been removed and it hit me that she was truly going to move. Looking into the living room from the entrance hall, I stared at the sconces located on either side of the fireplace and the hand carved moon and clover embedded in the wall adjacent to it. Then I looked at the bay window area the beautiful stained glass and at that time I knew it was over. I felt a lump form in my throat as I fought back the tears that burned the back of my eyes. This just couldn't be happening... That's when I heard a voice in my head clearly say " This is your house" in a very direct and stern manner. I felt a few seconds of relief and joy because I knew in my heart that what I heard was true. Then, that other voice chimed in and said  "Bitchhhhh... WAKE UP!  You done bumped your damn head." Just like that, Satan popped my bubble taking away my joy. ...damn...
   When my mother and I left the house that day, I never returned to the area nor did I have the desire to. It was the end of an era for my family and there wouldn't be any more memories created there.  My family was no longer in the home. To me, my family gave the home that joyful spirit of love and beautiful memories.
   I had been thinking about the house off and on about two weeks prior. Maybe that's where the idea came from to drive by and just take a look...
    As I drove into town I got lost a few times but, not to the point that I couldn't find my way back home if I needed too. I recall glancing at what appeared to be folks hanging near corner stores on the main street and seeing the behavior as being odd but, the old family house was not located on the main street. Plus, I was too busy looking for the turn off street that would take me to the area where it was located. There was my landmark, on the left! A lovely stone church on the corner with stained glass! ...that was now covered with plexiglass??? I thought to myself "What on earth..."? That thought came and went quickly because I now knew exactly where I was going. I drove up a few blocks made a right, drove to the center of the block and saw the address. I stopped the car in the street, got out and looked up. That was it although, it looked like no one had tried very hard to keep the maintenance up on the house. Overall, everything appeared the same. 
   It's a lovely brownstone brick house with dental other types of molding that are Victorian in style, lovely columns and original stained glass panels over the windows and around the door. My mind took me back to childhood and how I use to play on the porch with multicolor blocks as the elders of the family sat on the iron porch furniture and chatted quietly after dinner. 
   My mind snapped back to the present as I noticed a woman hammering a "For Sale" sign in a front yard between my aunts old house and the property of a long time neighbor that, I assumed, was still living next door. It hit me that I didn't know which property belonged to which house because the houses were all rowhouses. As kids we never played in the front yard and never touched the curtains at the windows. Therefore, I wasn't sure as to which property belonged to the house. I parked the car in front of the door in a tight little space, got out and walked over to the lady putting up the "For Sale" sign. The conversation went something like this:

Me: " Excuse me madam but, are you selling 1142"?

She looked up at me, her face looked kinda familiar. I paused for a second and brushed the thought off. I worked in the justice system and came in contact with probably a thousand plus individuals around the state each year. I could have met or seen her anywhere. I'm not very good at remembering names but, I seldom completely forget a face. 

Lady: "Yes...its for sale"
Me: "You can take the sign down. I want to purchase the house."

I wish that I could have taken a picture of her expression at that very second. It was definitely a Kodak Moment worthy of YouTube popularity. I looked her directly in the eyes as she did me. Don't ask me how much time elapsed as she stared into my eyes to find out what type of nut I was and I stared into her eyes because I was totally serious and wanted her to remove that sign. The house was mine as far as I was concerned. 
   I heard a voice in my mind that I knew wasn't me. The stare broke and I just started talking so, I knew that it wasn't me. 

Me: Wait a minute... I know that you don't think that I am serious but,  
       I'll tell you this... I will give you $100 in cash right now contingent
       upon my obtaining a mortgage for the property. 

Without hesitation, I went back to my car, got my purse and pulled out a $100 bill and a state writing pad that I used for work. I drew a line across the form itself and wrote out the agreement on the other side. We both signed it. In the state of Maryland, this was considered a binding agreement. I gave her the cash in hand. We exchanged contact information. She asked if I could meet her at the house the next day for a walkthrough and I agreed. She smiled and I recall thinking to myself:

Me (thinking):  "This lady looks so familiar. Where do I know her from? Well, she looks too nice to be a criminal."

We didn't really talk much and believe it or not, that was the extent of our conversation. I got back into the car and drove off thinking about the house and reminiscing about the good times that I had there. 
   It took awhile to get back home. I made a wrong turn and ended up on the other side of town somehow. I had no idea as to where I was and had no phone or map. It was getting a little dark and I was getting a little nervous. My dad told me to always look for a main road and my mother always told me to look for the skyscrapers and that was Baltimore City. Looking to my left I could see that I was getting closer to the heart of the city because of the buildings. I started driving in the opposite direction and finally saw a street that I recognized. Although I had taken the long route and subsequently ended up taking a little tour of the city, I got home without any major issues. I couldn't wait to tell my parents about it!
   Mom was in the kitchen watching MPT when I got home and dad was coming into the kitchen to get a snack. I thought that he was coming into the kitchen to confront me about being gone so long and I was surely going to tell them about what had taken place. I sat in a chair and asked if I could talk to them. That was my big moment. Mom just looked at me and dad leaned against the kitchen counter with a handful of cookies giving me his full attention. I leaned back in the chair, stretched my legs out and crossed my feet at the ankles. I was still waiting for them to ask me about where I had gone but, to my surprise they never said anything. Dad munched on cookies as my mother told him to clean the cookie crumbs off the counter and put the cookies in a napkin. I smiled... I was going to have my own house where I could do whatever I wanted...whenever I wanted! So, I found that incident amusing. I picked up our little dog "Pete" and held him on my shoulder. Everybody was there except my older brother who had already purchased his own home several years prior. 

Me: "Guess what"?

They continued to give me their attention but, never said a word.

Me:  "I drove down to Auntie's old house and its up for sale"! 

They still didn't say anything. It was like being a comedian on stage telling jokes with no response from the audience. Dad continued to munch on cookies without changing his demeanor and mom just sighed a little but, continued listening. 

Me:  "I gave the seller $100 contingent on my obtaining a mortgage for
         the property"! 

I gave a sighed of relief because I got it out. I couldn't wait to hear what they were going to say. Maybe dad would cough a bit from a piece of cooke going down the wrong way but, that never happened. Mom never changed her demeanor. I was so excited, despite all of this. 

Mom: "Well, you know that Auntie sold her house to a neighbor living in
            the next block. The neighbor's daughter and granddaughter were
            into real estate". 

Now, I was dumbfounded. I was trying to figure out if I recognized the lady, that I spoke with, from the neighborhood or if I met her at some point through my job. 

Me:  "Mom, did you ever meet the neighbors that purchased Auntie's
          house"?
Mom:"I met the grandmother a few times. She was friends with Auntie
           but, I don't know the mother or her daughter very well although, I
           did meet them once or twice. 
Me:  The lady that I met was in her 50's with sandy brown hair and a
         very fair complexion. The house is "for sale by owner".
Mom: "You said that she looked to be in her 50's? That might have
           been the granddaughter.

I felt a sinking sensation inside like- my spirit slid down to my legs, passed out and hit the floor. Had I been standing when mom gave me those details, I probably would have passed out. Thank goodness I was sitting down because my legs were feeling kind of- weak. I had to put "Pete" down. I didn't want to drop him because he would get an attitude. He was a strong and muscular miniature schnauzer that had experienced me accidently dropping him a couple of times, accidently kicking him out of the bed and spilling water out of his overfilled water dish onto his head. We had an understanding though. He knew that it was never deliberate but, I guess it frustrated him. Yet through it all, we had an inseparable bond. He jumped back up onto my lap and looked into my eyes.

Me: "You gotta get down baby"

He knew what that meant...drop or get dropped. I tended to be clumsy at times. Like I said, it was never on purpose and he knew this, I believe. He jumped down to the floor, layed down at my mom's feet (for safety reasons) and watched me as he waited for dad to drop a cookie.

Mom: "Did you see the inside of the house"?    
Me:  "No, but I am suppose to meet her tomorrow at the house for a
         walkthrough.
Mom: "Mrs. Walker said that she heard a lot of banging and saw a
           large amount of wood etc. being taken out of the house after
           they bought it. I think the granddaughter lived there briefly then
           rented it out. 
Me:  "...rented the house out"? Did she mention the condition of the
         inside? ...just curious..."
Mom: "Mrs. "Walker said that she had to walk next door several times
           to talk to the woman, that was renting it, about roaches".
Me:  "...roaches"?  (...damn, my voice squeaked...)

I think my eyes dilated quite a bit at that point. I could definitely see much better and I had 20/20 vision. Oh Lord...what did they do in there? ...and they removed wood? I wasn't sure if I wanted to see it or not. I wanted to remember the house as looking like a small mansion. To see it in a mess would dominate all of my memories of it for the rest of my life.

Mom: "You know that we never had a problem with roaches in those
            houses. The neighbors were clean. The community association
            was extremely strong years ago. Auntie was the Secretary of
            that association for many years. Mrs. Walker said that she didn't
            know what they could have done in the house because Auntie
            kept the maintenance up and it didn't need any work". 

...and I already knew all of this as fact. Mrs. Walker's family had been living next door for many years and my family knew them pretty well.  I could feel myself physically sinking down a little further in that chair. It was a comfortable position for receiving bad news. ...you know, that position that makes you feel like you are half your size and getting smaller? I am so glad now that Pete wasn't on my lap because the two of us would have been on the floor. I had no energy to hold myself up much less, hold him. ...but, I kept my cool and worked diligently not to let my voice squeak any more while I spoke with them. A part of me waited for them to ask why I didn't talk to them first before offering to buy the house. They never asked.  I honestly couldn't have answerd that question. Something inside just- took over. I wasn't sure if I had done the right thing.
 
                                    End of Unavailable (Chapter One)
















   






                                   

    

Comments

  • Jul 02, 2018

  • i really wish i could give this a proper reading. the problem is you failed to respect your audience. it is nearly impossible to read a solid block of text with no formatting. all your thoughts become a single thought and it becomes overwhelming to understand what you ar trying to say. i think you might have something very important to share. feel free to fix your writing so that your valuable feelings and thoughts can be read and shared with the respect they deserve instead of the scorn of readers who just cant follow what your trying to say.

    Jul 02, 2018

  • Jul 02, 2018

  • You’re quite the pessimist

    Jul 02, 2018

  • Totally love this keep up the good work

    Jul 03, 2018

  • You're healing from something sinister, arn't you??? I understand: My heart goes out to you and so do my thoughts. If you need an ear, I can be that. I'm in the process of healing too and it's not pretty. Kutos to you,for your heart, and bravery. :)

    Jul 03, 2018

  • Jul 06, 2018

  • Jul 07, 2018

  • Jul 10, 2018

  • Jul 10, 2018

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