Requim: For Anyone Who Cares Anymore

Shopping in the big box store
And everything looks too big and too dirty.
How could anyone ever need
This many paper towels?

And I'm looking at the plastic cutlery
And trying to remember which my office mates prefer.
Is it the clear?
Is it the white?
Does any of this trivial shit really matter?

And somewhere someone is crying
Because she lost someone she cared about.
A brother?
A friend?
A son?
He was something to her
Even if he's just a punchline in a joke to you.

I catch the eye of an elderly man
That seems to look at my with a knowing smile.
Do I know him?
Or is he just creepily friendly?
I told my best friend that I thought all old white men were scary
But this man seems
Almost
Nice
Like the kind of grandpa type that would welcome you on his lap
But not in a gross old man kind of way.

I keep shopping.

Sniff in the soup aisle.

Wipe tears in the frozen foods.

Somewhere in a hospital
There's a broken girl.
Could I have helped her?
Could I have fixed her?
Could I be her?
Every other minute she is on my mind
But I push it away.

These pot pies are good
Exclaims the chubby check-out girl.
Oh really, I say
I'm just buying them for my coworker.
Her kids like them, I think.

And somewhere the clock ticks on.

And somewhere someone reads what I write
Because I'm too tired today to edit how I feel.
And she exclaims in her characteristic way
Oh, my.
I think Becky may have lost it.

But actually Becky hasn't.

She is feeling it all too too clear.

Because when you have the genetic blood of addiction
Coursing through your veins,
You don't take pills to sleep
Or to feel happy
Or to feel numb.
You don't drink to excess
Because you know you can't.

And besides all that

Somebody still has to buy the office supplies

And process the invoices

And pick up the boy

And make dinner

And pay the bills

And send the birthday cards

Because life goes on,
Even when it seems unbelievable.

Reclaiming Your Childhood: Priceless

This story might take a minute to tell. Bear with me. When my sister and I were little girls, my mother took us to a large baptist church in town. Even as a child, I never remember feeling welcome there. But I do remember the lovely older couple that kept my Sunday School class. They gave us saltines and kool-aid, and I remember thinking they would be nice grandparents to have. At Christmastime, the Sunday School class was set to have a random gift exchange. Every child was supposed to bring a gift that could be exchanged with any other child.....no specific gift designations. I received the gift of an Avon 7 bead necklace which was very popular at the time. I loved it so much and was thrilled to have it! I was somewhere between 5 and 7 at the time. (Back in the 1970's and 80's, Avon was a cosmetic company that was also known for it's inexpensive jewelry. I couldn't find a price on what this necklace would have cost back then, but apparently there is ...

My Week with Rumor

My dog Rumor was an experiment. A trial offer. And all parties knew that going in. Except for maybe Rumor. Rumor was an outdoor country dog. His given name was Ruger (named after a firearm if you don't know, I didn't) which made sense for a dog raised in hunting country. He was a stray that came to live with a loving family at about the age of 1. He lived outdoors, slept in a garage crate at night, frolicked with an older dog pack and had a lovely life. We think he was about 4 years old. He had been neutered, had vet care and was by no means a "rescue". His dad offered Ruger to me on a give-it-a-try basis. He knew I wanted a dog. He told me Ruger would be sweet to me and also be my protector. He was right on both counts. He told me if it didn't work out, I could bring Ruger back to him and his wife. I could tell they were a little sad when they dropped him off. It made me glad to see that Ruger came from such ...

NYE for $200, Alex

Can we all just agree that New Year's Eve is the worst of the string of winter holidays? I would even go so far as saying it's THE WORST of all the holidays. I loved when Stanford Blatch defined a party as feeling very "forced festive". To me, most NYE parties feel that way. The idea that this is a big year-end blow-out and we'd all damn well better make it awesome! The reason I hate NYE is because it combines two of things I most hate about celebrations: cold weather and crowds. Plus it's during a time of year when everyone has already spent all their money. AND you usually have to the leave the house. ADDITIONALLY, you have to stay up late. It's a big F.U. from me on all this. I would dare say that some of my happiest New Year's memories have been spent at home in my pajamas with either my child, an S.O. or happily alone. I remember one unforgettable year of moving into a 3rd floor apartment on NYE. I rememb...

Becky's Greatest Hits Vol. II

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