Just a Kid

November 2014

Today I went to Safeway. There was a kid sitting where you used to wait for me.

Vaughn–I know you were just living your life.

Before you started having big problems you used to wait for me to pick you up at Safeway. Later, when you were coming down and hungry, you would wait for me to drive  down and buy you something to eat. But despite everything, and all you went through, on some level you were always just a kid waiting for your mom at Safeway.

I remember how you used to peruse the candy aisle. It would take you forever to make a choice. I used to get impatient. Now I imagine how you must have been weighing your choices–imagining the various bars, drops, and chewies in your mouth–wanting to pick just the right one. And I realize that must have been pleasurable to you-the deliberation and anticipation. I wish I had been more patient–allowed you your moment of pleasure. So much in your life was hard and unpleasant. In the candy aisle you were just a kid.

Vaughn I love you. I miss you. I want to see you again SO MUCH. I have to believe I will.