Tag Archives: life

PAIGE ANDERS CHRONICLES – 6

So there you have it. That’s how I met Janet and with a few good months and long conversations spent swallowed by the couch and gallons of ice cream, we became friends. She encouraged me to drop the dealing – which wasn’t too easy. Buster had got a little dependent on me being his top seller and all. But things worked out in the end. I needed a real, new job then. So Janet got me started at the diner.Tommy was always such an easy pushover that we both knew it be a good start for me. He was so giddy that some one else showed even the slightest interest in his business that he hired me on the spot. Not even a background check.

And now we circle back to today, where I had to force the poor guy to even let me go. I mean, I was terrible at my job, possibly even giving his diner a bad rep. But still….

Like I had said before, it was perfect timing. Even planned, some could say. Now it was time to plan out the easy stuff. The murder, right? You’re still waiting on the name. The one who I’ve been waiting to snap like a twig.

Maybe you think it’s Rodney? With all his corruption and dire need to see myself dead. But no, he’s still in jail and will be there for many years to come. Likely his heart will go before he even gets close to parole.

Tommy, maybe? True that I”m not a fan of hipsters, but I’m not that cruel.

Buster? Well, honestly he’s not much of a threat. Remember, I said it all worked out in the end.

Trevor, of course, is who you’ve got in mind now. He seems the easy pick. All the anger and downward spiral started with him. My ability to trust ended with him. My life was torn apart because of him. Sure, he seems like an obvious motive. One very good reason. But honestly, I don’t even know the guy’s real name. And in the end, wasn’t he just doing his job? Is the jeopardy of my life worth ending his?

No.

Let me help you out a little more.

I told you I made a lot of money for Rodney. A lot of money. I also told you I couldn’t spend it. I looked for a good launderer time to time, but no one really ever gave me the right feeling. Launderers are necessarily known for having clean hands. So most of that cash was just spent on the everyday things. Groceries, gas, clothes, etc. All the necessities of life.

Rodney couldn’t spend a lot of his amount either, so he entrusted it to me. To “take care of it.” In other words – hide it. When the Feds busted in that day, there was good amount of cash in the safe – hell – probably even laying out on the tables with the product right beside it. But that was by no means all of it. No, that half a million they looted was just a small percent. The rest of it had been carefully placed in a remote location for safe keeping, just as Rodney had asked of me. Even Trevor didn’t learn that secret.

They grilled me so many times about the rest of the cash. But poor, doe eyed me just placed it off to my distraught mother’s erratic spending and “I don’t know where he kept it – why don’t you just ask him?” Him being Rodney, of course. And the irony is even Rodney never to knew the final location of the money since I had a habit of moving it every two weeks or so. He would always say I was the one who knew and I would say it was him. Neither of us put up a good case to believe, but it was enough to hold them off.

But you see? Being that the Feds never go the final answer,  they knew that it would still be out there somewhere. And I knew that they would continue to watch me in hopes that one day I would lead them right to it. Desperation is a driving force that will make people do a lot of crazy things.

And they’re right.

I am becoming desperate. Real life is hard. Even harder when you know your future could be so easy if only you could get your hands on even a quarter of what you have stashed.

Are you on to me now?

I’m the one that’s going to be axed. I need to disappear and my death seems like it’s the only way to give me the best options.

And imagine…a life started with a clean slate? A completely new me.

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DEAR FRIEND

The pain in my heart
is not for that
who has passed,
dear friend.

The pain in my heart
is having to watch
you fall apart,
again and again.

Knowing,
as I stand idle by,
there is nothing I can do
to make you understand.

Grief is a hard thing,
a battle of the inside.
But its necessary
and unfortunately out of command.

Dear friend,
Time is a current
that flows with no restriction
and with it,
I am certain,
you will come back to me
feeling life more
than when you began.

AGE

I caught my reflection today.
The face was older than I remembered.
Lines stretched from corners.
And blotchy dots lie just below the surface.
I think what startled me most were the eyes.
Coarse, green circles that seemed to bore right into me.
There was still quite a bit of light to them.
But age had altered them, too.
It’s a funny thing,
my reflection.
My body continues to become defunct and rigid.
But my mind feels as though it has grown younger
and vivid.

PERSEVERE

An ant carries a crumb
three times the size of its body,
working his way across
a hot desert of pavement and stone.
Each crack is a canyon
and each pebble is a mountain.
Forward he moves.
Nothing will stop him.

For his colony and queen,
he marches.
Delivering this token
will bring the pride he has wanted
though the sun scorches his path and
the wind is unyielding.
Forward he moves.
Nothing will stop him.

Patterns in the summer sky
form the warning of rain.
He senses the ground’s stingy hunger
for drops that would only bring
a deadly pain.
Faster he will pace
as his tiny body begins to shake.
Forward he moves.
Nothing will stop him.

Shadows drift and sway,
pervading the world around.
Reverberation of the ground.
The black speck that forms his face
is held in fear.
He knows that giants are near.
Forward he moves!

But time is cut short.
Flattened into a mess of
spindled legs and wiry blood,
he is dead upon impact.
The crumb floats over the scene
to a destination unknown
and the world forgets the ant
and all that he has done.

THE FUTURE

You weren’t always like this.
Were you?

You were young once.
Full of some dreams.
You had an imagination.
An ambition.
Going somewhere,
beyond the borders that
tried to define you.

Then something happened.
We’ll call it
“Life,”
to make it feel ordinary.
To make it feel normal.
It happens to everyone,
doesn’t it?
We all go through
“Life.”

You know that’s not right?
Don’t you?

That’s just an excuse.
A way to blame the world
around you,
instead of looking at yourself.

“Life,”
didn’t happen.
But reality did.

Things got harder.

Responsibility became a hounding force,
not an exciting endeavor.
Freedom still keeps you bound,
more than it ever did before.
Dreams were strangled
by sarcastic faces and wasted time.

You know you can still change it?
Don’t you?

Those things didn’t disappear
or become unreachable.
It’s only yourself that stops
the future you crave
from happening.

So don’t sit there
and complain to me
about this “Life” and that.
These are all your choices.
And this is your outcome.

Take hold of what you have left
and move on with it.
Move forward.
Move further than you think you can.

CATCHING UP WITH LIFE

Like a rushing current, she wailed on and on. Drowning out all sounds but the screech of her own voice.

Miranda tapped her head on the steering wheel. A repetitive motion to keep her steady. God knows she needed to keep steady.

She didn’t have time for this right now. She looked back her daughter who had begun thrashing in the car seat. She beat her legs wildly on the chair.

A stiff tinge of a headache began fogging Miranda’s mind. She sighed.

A shoe flung by her, hitting the dash.

“Riley! Enough!” she yelled. Her irritation grew as she recalled the hour she just spent dressing her. Pulling that golden hair into adorable pig tails that were now a monument to static electricity.

“Why do I even bother?” She fixed her gaze back towards the placid grocery store in front of her. They would just sit here until the tantrum ran its course. Judging by the gurgle scream stage that just kicked in, it wouldn’t be too much longer.

Every time this happens. She’d told Tom about it, but he wouldn’t hear her out. He would shake his head, “You’re a stay-at-home mom. We’re not paying a sitter for a few hours just so you can go to the store. Besides, if it is such an issue, just drop her off with my mom. She can handle her.”

She can handle her. Miranda bit her lip. What was that supposed to mean?

Just two hours a week, that’s all she asked for. For two hours of peaceful shopping with no screaming. No clothes pulling. No offhanded stares from strangers, with their smug faces.

Tom always scuffed at that notion. “How can you be alone with a hundred others parading around the store?”

You don’t know any of them, that’s how. You disconnect. You are just a woman in a grocery store. No more than that. Not a mother. Not a wife.

“Are you done yet?” she asked blatantly to the burping child in the back seat. He eyes were now red and puffy, her adorable blue dress soaked at the collar.

Miranda jumped out of the van and opened up the back passenger door. Her daughter who had so angrily screamed at her only moments before now reached out with longing arms. She unfastened the belts and gently lifted Riley from the seat, wiping her face with the spare pack of wipes she always kept in the back. Riley nudged her head into the nape of Miranda’s neck, curling her fist into small balls against her chest. Miranda smiled at her deeply. If only it would stay this way.

SUMMER SCARS

I can taste the summer

in the sounds.

The look of the heat,

wafting from the concrete.

 

A sugary smell to the air,

savoring memories past.

Memories of youth

and those that I thought

wouldn’t last.

 

My hear is sick,

you see.

Nostalgic of the thoughts

that overcome me.

 

There is a pandemonium

that walks around

these crowed streets.

To this place and that,

grouping and touching,

a human need.

 

They go without destination,

drifting in life’s streams.

They are carried on the current,

no velocity.

 

We walk the same lines as those before us,

carving canyons and digging deep.

 

It’s beautiful though?

The patterns that we make.

The shaping that takes place.

 

We really are part of some great machine.

But it’s beyond us

and only with us functioning

is it complete.