I know I rarely talk about my mother on here…well anywhere for that matter, but I was reading AD’s blog yesterday and it reminded me of a story about her.
Before my mom’s second divorce, we actually had a pretty good relationship. After that, things pretty much went down hill, but that’s another story.
Anyways, I came home from school one bright shiny spring day and walked inside. The house was quiet and the lights were off. I lived in a house with 8 other people. Silence was nearly unheard of. So I was already suspicious.
I don’t remember now where my other siblings were at the time, I just remember that I was the only one in the house.
I walked into the kitchen to find a bag of marijuana on the table. I was like 15. I knew what marijuana looked like, although I had never seen it in person. My eyes grew wide as I stared at it. My first thoughts were that my oldest brother had been busted with it and they were out having some sort of intervention.
I slowly walked into my mom’s bedroom and to my surprise she was laying on the bed. I walked over to her and shook her slightly. She opened her eyes and I said, “Mom, are you okay?”
“Yeah why?” She groaned.
“Well, um, there is a bag of weed on the table and you were passed out.”