Veterans Day Weekend

Romeo sat hopefully at the front door—the tawny colored tabby with fluffed out fur and bright green eyes, hoping the black rolling suitcase meant I was home for good this time,  because he isn’t loved enough without me there to pick him up and scratch under his chin, waiting for rumbling of the purr like a car motor; It’s the pill that makes everything okay as I’m stopping at Wal-Mart with Daddy now, his three Christmas Beanie Babies a prize (acquired during the long hours roaming in Jo-Ann’s and Hobby Lobby,  searching among aisles of creative concoctions for the perfect Christmas gifts), but they have to go from my lap to the white Hallmark bag before Footloose finishes the intro and brings forth the uncanny urge to forget myself and dance while reminiscing over another day at another home where music was just another part of the explained insanity of the Carolinas…It’s the pill that makes everything okay until I run away with the best of girlfriends in the mall with Kristi talking about bassists, punk bands and dildos before we run back to her car Buttercup and steal Sarah on the way to the Creamery Café hiding in Gulf Breeze for German food and a fight over my tiny cell phone as we laugh over bad driving habits and not speeding in Gulf Breeze Proper on our way to get Kristi’s pain medication to get rid of the memories of lost wisdom teeth… It’s the pill that makes everything okay when we’re sitting on the sand dune left by the second of the two hurricanes, watching white waves froth in the black night under a cinematic moon, curled up on the top of stinging white sand, back to back in bitter winds playing a game of questions starring love, memories, hopes and dreams—reminding me that I don’t feel quite complete without someone wrapped up in a cuddling hug with me—the simple sign of love that finishes the 1 A.M. confessional in the middle of the empty parking lot… It’s the pill that makes everything okay…It’s how I know Chessy is under Daddy’s bed, curled into a black and white ball that hides his bright pink nose, until the day that I come home again.