white noise

Phew …

It’s warm; buds are popping up all over; it’s suddenly spring. After two weeks of freakishly odd on-and-off-again snow storms our world is renewed with new growth, new warmth, and a whole new set of bugs — yay for us! But, I still expect to wake up one day soon to more snow. And blossoms (c’mon granny, make up yer mind).

It’s now time to replace the water pump for the downstairs heater, have the system bled, and all that rot. I feared it wouldn’t last the winter. Sounding as it did, I thought it might bore a hole to the earth’s core whenever I turned it on. Might’ve taken the house and us, too. Never can tell these things … until it’s too late. You wake up one night and — my goodness, it’s hot. Is that lava on your pillow?

Well, Aunt Charlene did say I’d go to Hell.

I’ve thought a lot about Travis the last few days, and Tammy. I suppose that means I should sit my butt behind a pen and write an old fashioned letter. Tammy isn’t a computer buff, and it’s never likely she’ll have an email address. Gotta keep in contact via the Pony Express, otherwise contact falls by the way side. But, she’s one I shouldn’t let contact slip away. Not sure why, but that whisper inside my head says write to her.

I suppose I should listen. Intuition is so rarely wrong. It’s that higher power knocking at the door, you know?

About Travis. Why? Now there, I’m really not sure. I wonder still what makes him so significant to the circle of my life. And why should he drift into my thoughts again now? I’ve heard he wasn’t doing well. Chances are he’s either been back in jail, or belongs there again. No control over his anger. His Achilles heel — anger. If he learned to control that particlar beast, he’d move forward. Did he ever learn, or did he continue down the darker path?

I wonder. I’m compelled to send him a letter. Another letter that will sit waiting, unopened, or perhaps maybe forwarded.

You can’t tell me a person can never change. That, as McClinton so ineloquently put it, “he’s a puke and will never be anything but a puke.” No, the truth is that one person cannot change another person. But a human being can most definitely change. I know anyone can; my father is living proof. Four years this February, clean and sober. After being a drug addict for over 35 years. Anyone can change. With the right incentive.

Happy Birthday, Dad. This one’s for you.