They Wake Me

Morning rumblings. Green dump truck wakes me up. Loud and angry they carry the week away.  Remnants of times passing. Green receptacles carries good intentions. Cardboard boxes and plastic bottles ready to be remade. Gray container hold the biomass waste. Tree trimmings and shaved yards halfway fill her. Designed pumpkins of Transformer logo and a hyperflexible gymnast have met its last days. The blue trash can holds the rest.

Three visits wake me. Still I fight to sleep.

Yet, the squeaky school bus has other intentions. Flashing red lights command others to stop. Neighbor kids gets special consideration. Cars halt in their hurry to make first period. They won't. Child takes his time to get to on his yellow chariot. Doesn't he know its Friday and he will be home soon. 

Yesterday it was All Saint's Day. Flowers at the cemetery were removed. None has been for awhile. Grass grew over the plant holders in our absence. Tiny ants raced across the plaques as I uprooted their transit. Next week is Tatay's death anniversary. Its been almost twenty years since he passed. 

Family has changed since then. Many more additions since last Sr was here. Babies having babies. New cousins and new young ones join the brood. One would think there would be more visits. It doesn't happen. They don't know who you and Rochelle are. Its a hard lesson to learn. In a generation and half, there will be no more flowers. No more visitors. No more people. 

Visits are longer now. It is harder to get here. Bodies are less nimble. Financial worries cut phone calls and visits short. We call to invite the parents, but she's always at work and he's a regular at the hospital. Seeing hooked up on the ventilator. . .Eyes closed, breathe shallow. His body losing its battle with time. I read the son's cries for help. No longer the little one. He now holds his own little one. Brother is an ocean away. With  his own little princess. 

Trouble I see for the future. Tough times ahead. 

Another visitor may move in soon.

This is no different from the generations before. I've learned this as my own mortality was realized. I sat by Tatay wondering why one's work after getting out of the hospital. She said, "He is playing Russian Roulette with his life." After being in ICU means you were in critical care, then to head to work less than hour later. I shake my head. They say, they feel sorry for him. I don't. If this is how he wants to spend his time, then let him. For a man, work is great part of who they are. This was drilled into him. Society does not look kindly to those not being productive. When is the last time you looked a homeless person in the eyes?

If your sincerity were true, you would have been more active. This was hard one for me to accept, too. If you felt sorry for him, you should have taken those cigarettes away. You had years to do it. Why weren't you there? He suffers because he can't breathe. No one put a gun to his head and told him to suck the nicotine stick. He was seduced and he went willingly. During his time wife's pregnancy, during his daughter's treatment, during his doctor's hospital visits, he chose. Stress of work, stress of home, stress from childrens' well being the nicotine stick was his comforter. It helped him to breathe and find a temporary respite. Now its time for his body to collect rent for years of nicotine oasis. Years of choices demands recompense.

Certainly there was an attraction to the cancer sticks brought on by the media. It is much how politicians today tell there stories we know aren't true. We see the smile. Coiffed hair. The insincerity. We know the candidate has trouble with the truth. We believe their lives because the stories they tell eases our incongruity, We think one cigarette is not going to effect the pregnancy. It is just smoke. We believe not smoking in their presence will stop the second hand smoke from entering the child's room. It is using the withdrawal method to halt pregnancy.

We pretend that these steps do not have any effect. 

We close our eyes to the trick or treating of the week. We hope to sleep longer. But the reality of trucks remain undeterred. They will wake you.