The Story Of My Fucking Life


Posted by ilbebe on May 18, 2010

I want children to be able to run in fields of flowers whenever they want.

I am typing this on my friend Jenny’s laptop, which is missing the ‘e’ key. Her apartment is above a street named Haight in SF, CA, which many people have different pre-conceived notions about. Luckily, I am writing on Pacific Standard Time.

Once there was a war on the other side of the ocean I sit three miles from at the moment. In it, my father’s father died. He stepped on a land mine. My father was seven months in the womb when my Grandmother got the news. She remarried quickly. All my father knew of his father for the first few years was from photographs.

I have always known the man who could theoretically be thought of as my step-grandfather as Grandpa. He’s a good guy, a really good guy. He raised four children with my grandmother, and all four are doing okay. He has nine grandchildren, and his first great-grandchild has not materialized yet, but there is no reason to think he won’t be able to meet that child when it arrives.

He wept when he buried his wife nine years ago today. My father wept. His brothers and his sisters wept. My sisters and I were sad, but didn’t quite know how to feel. At least we were there, all together.

It may be unrealistic to think we will see and end to war within our lifetime, but that’s certainly no reason to give up all hope. We all want children, and to see those children be able to do whatever they want, whenever they want to. Have children of their own when they feel like it, or maybe a moment or two before…

For me, the vision is fields of flowers. My friend Jenn informed me an hour ago that she had her third child five weeks ago, a boy. Her two daughters are already becoming amazing people.

Jenn’s sister Kaydee was my first girlfriend. We have always been close. Kaydee is pregnant, due in the first ten days of January of next year.

In the depths of winter, flowers.


-4:55 PM, 5/17/10, SF, CA


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