the big stupid-or…what crazy does!

Originally uploaded by jayfherron


This is soon to be the last of my writing for a while.
I actually lay in my bed last night and wept.
My big mouth and my stupid ideas have created a place I’m not sure if I can manage to be there.
The home in the photograph is soon to be moved to my property. This came about earlier in the Spring-I thought then it was maybe a good idea.
I’m scared of it now.

My son had offered to help his mother by purchasing an acre and a mobile home for her. I felt that because of my health and things might be going in a different direction that it would be a good idea to move my former wife into a more a newer home which we could set on my property.
The idea lingered and then grew.
There it is-the yellow monolith of plastic and plywood.

Soon to come are crushers! A man hired with a loader machine and a huge dump truck-he’s going to rip down this place I’ve managed with for many years now. Admittedly-it has seen its day and even daylight where the rain comes through the roof…but the history and times past this place has seen. That is why I will stop writing for awhile-there will be no where to be!

The home dealer that sold me this place (that is metaphoric at this moment-sold me!) has a staff full of folks including himself that calls me MR.JAY….I loathe being called ‘mister’ anything-anytime…but especially loathe being called “Mister” followed by my first name.
At ‘barracks D’ ‘hello mister’ was the first thing my rapist said to me. Mister hurts.
It is a southern thing-one one has to get used to I suppose…but for me it sticks out like a cancerous glob each time I hear it with my name attached.
Well…the mobile home dealer is only temporary.
Having my sons mother as a room mate….hmmm,what is about to be?

We all rode over there to see the place yesterday-momma and my son and I.
I really don’t know how to explain her and her ability to befriend the incurable crack head gutter types with some intention of salvaging the impossible….and the knack she has for being in Kansas and spotting the most wormiest dog on the highway….a highway in south central Florida-that’s how keen her eye is….and on the ride over she inquired about one of her friends-my son works at the jail and it seems one of her ‘accomplishments’ is staying under protective custody-she asked about thier health….I cringed at the memory of the past.
I asked my son how it was going to be? His mothers friends? I had not thought about that at the time I brought up the idea.
I am sure I am not happy with the answer…”you should have thought about that before” was his answer.

A perfect person you can not ask for. The mother of my sons has a simple goodness-she has a heart bigger than her brain…not the brightest of persons-but the goodness she attempts hand out seems to bite her back with out transferring a lesson.

So the house is huge-nearly a campus compared to where I live right now. There is a master bath-a room large enough to live in with choices of sinks and where to bathe-shower or the garden tub?
It is a spilt floor plan (listen to me-split floor plan!) with the master bedroom at one end and across what seems to be an acre is the three bedrooms I am going to take command of-a bathroom of more logical size is on that end too.
I’ve already thought of a way to divide it some….to make it somewhat more private.

It would seem I would be over joyed-perhaps I will get there,yet who knows.
It collapsed on me last night as I lay in bed-I heard the noises from out in the woods….the tree frogs singing out. It usually lulls me but the thoughts of all of this…the crusher coming and the other contractors and the changes-all compressed.
I know this seems unthankful….my son has offered to pay for it all-as a matter of fact,it has become his choice with out a real discussion.
That took something away more than it did ad to the thoughts and comforts I have.
Then came rules.
Simple….but rules.
I thought about sleeping under the over passes. I somehow think that’s where I’m going to end up….living under an overpass.
My former wife knows nothing about what happened to me.
My son and his wife-they do sort of,but to me I know they don’t comprehend what PTSD is about for us that live with it. I mentioned to my sons wife how I was afraid of going into buildings….the confused look told me that was beyond comprehension-I also mentioned my fear of people….this does not register.
It is not that they are dumb….they just do not understand.

The loss of my independent ways is shaking me up
I failed to think about whom my sons mother has come to know and be friends with over the twenty some odd years we’ve been divorced….who will be visiting here?
I think the comment of the way this is going to be managed-from sons pocketbook and bank accounts….has taken the independent way I live away from me.

No? Is ‘NO’ a meaningful thing? A possibility for me to use? Am I able to say it?
I am not able to say it….only when I’m alone,but not in real life.

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