Saturday, February 25, 2023

Blood Ruined a Friendly Neighborhood, A Police Story

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Nico and Christopher at a fair. January 21, 2023

February 25, 2023

The trail of blood droplets splattered perfectly on the ground like fully bloomed red roses.  At first the blood drops were sprinkled here, and there, as the blood trickled out of the wounded human.   And then, about halfway down the street, the trickle of splatter began to rain down more, and the blood trail became more prevalent.  This wound was serious and this person is in some serious trouble.  The blood drops were more cluttered in mass and pooling was occurring.  The wounded person couldn’t get out of the bloods way, as their feet began to trample the pooling blood like puddles of rain and the blood trail soon became a foot trail as the bottoms of the shoes were painted red and the their pathway was more defined.  Nike, shoe size 10 became more evident. 

People in the neighborhood heard cries for help but not a peep was made from the silent audience who was in the safety of their home. Neither a light turned on, nor a soul was seen rushing to this person to give them life saving aid.  Like a wounded animal in the woods, the victim was on their own to fend for themself.   Death waited in the shadows. Black death began to grow thirsty for the blood as it drained from the open wounds of the once healthy person.  The veil of death could no longer hide itself so it began brute its way through their soul eager to take the life of another human being.  Brutality in some cases of death can only be remedied peacefully when the dying breathe their last breath.  It is so unfair that peace can only be achieved once the dying completes their gauntlet of death. 

In the distance there is a sound of salvation.  The sound of police sirens can be heard over the heavy breathing and screams of bloody murder.  The dying’s only guaranteed cavalry ready to respond to their cries of help. Society has turned its back on their plight and there is only one brave force willing to enter the killing zone and do God's work. 

The police officers driving in the police car can only go so fast to get there.  The vessel of salvation is being held up due to traffic and red traffic lights that impede their path, as they make their way into the arena and insert themselves into a battlefield that they didn’t know existed until dispatch relayed them the information they received from the phone calls on the 9-1-1 line.  There is no plan on how to enter.  Just table topped ideas of future events that are beginning to play out in real time. Police officer’s relying on their instincts, experience, and training to guide them into the area where no one else was brave enough to enter.  They are gladiators willing to act as protectors, apply first aid, make the scene safe, get emergency medical personnel in, because fire rescue will only stage a mile down the road until the police on scene give the okay to enter.  Once the dust settles the police can begin to investigate the crime.  But none of that can happen unless they get there.  If the police don’t act, then their just protecting the crime scene until the medical examiner arrives.

The blood stream is slowing.  Is it coagulating? Is the body almost out of its required 10 pints of blood and now shock is setting in?  Who knew that at the start of all this bleeding the wounds were deep enough to end a life?  The police are on scene and peace has returned to the area but a tragedy has befallen on this street.  Now, it’s time for the neighborhood to recover and assess how something so senseless could have happen in their family neighborhood, which has since turned violent during the night.  The sporadic blood drops cascading into a flow of red death and now has dried up.  May God have mercy on their souls.

Blake and Max on a stroll.  February 1, 2023.


© Copyright 2023 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to publish. 

Saturday, January 28, 2023

Hey Google, Hey Siri

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My boys. From your left: Max (2), Blake (3), Nico (14), Christopher (13).  Boone, NC Jan. 02, 2023


January 28, 2023

I’m here protecting the guests now at 0240 hours at a taco stand.  That’s 2:40 A.M. to you. And as I look around to see the sights and hear the sounds of my own existence, I still marvel at the fact that we exist here on earth. I notice that most people here waiting in the taco line do not pay attention to this fact anymore. Maybe it's too late to notice?  Maybe they're too high to care?  But is is obvious that people live their life in their phone.  It begs me to ask the question, “Hey Google, hey Siri: is there life outside my screen?”

From my vantage point it doesn’t seem that those around me notice that life is happening around them. First, I will tell you, my loyal reader, that I will admit that even though I am writing this blog, on my iPhone as I type out my complaint that those around me are not paying attention to the environment around them because those people are on the phone, we in the law enforcement biz have a thing we like to call, situational awareness.  It is a good curse to have in law enforcement.  Because situational awareness is bred into us officers, to be aware of every little nuance occurring within our span of control and identify potential problems and hazards on a continuing bases.  

I see men and women that are head down buried in their Galaxy or iPhone living in some alternative online reality.  They’re probably watching videos of life contained in their phone rather than observing the life that is happening around them.  

Maybe they can Google a sunrise or ask Siri when the sunsets.  There could be a cool YouTube vlogger documenting their adventure that is peaking their interest (guilty). Maybe one them could argue that, “hey I am here getting my late night fix for the munchies that I’m craving at this 24- hour taco stand.  Buddy, I’m living the dream.”  But the people I see sitting here on the bench, or stand, waiting for their order number to be called, collect their food and then scurry back to their car to devour their taco all the while holding that device in their hand.

If the man with a Jurassic Park t-shirt, denim shorts is tapping away at his phone. Would only look up, he doesn’t notice the stray dog directly in front of him in the parking lot rummaging through a pizza box that someone carelessly discarded on the ground. The little white dog comes up with a major score, a half-pepperoni pizza pie. He scampers off into the darkness like a cheetah that captured an antelope scurrying off to eat it.  But no, alas, he is, tap-tap-tapping away on his phone.  He could have possibly recorded it and uploaded to his page.  I bet it would have gone viral. 

More people are coming and getting in the taco line. Tap-tap on the phone; glance up as the line moves.  They stop briefly to look at the menu. This place is more popular than Taco Bell it seems. The fluorescent lighting hangs on the walls right above the take out window.  A mural covers the ugly yellow that is painted on the rest of the building. There is a busy road directly to the north.  The car traffic flow is dwindling as people are mostly home due to the hour of the night.  The only ones here getting the tacos have a longing transcending sleep. And yet this night drags on, these people still do not notice anything around them. Like a computer programed, they order their food, wait, and interact with their phone.  Life is right here for the taking but they’d rather jettison off on the World Wide Web.

I wonder if they remember they have family?  They probably do. The phone Lock Screen and wallpaper more than likely displays their loved ones on a fun trip or maybe they have a selfie of themselves.  Funny, the family picture on their phone is probably of the same loved one that they themselves are ignoring as they sit right next to each other.  Waiting to gather tacos too.  I suppose they will notice each other eventually.  Someone has to ask, "Who's Apple Pay we using?"

Order, eating, and gigabytes, is like, wash, rinse, repeat.  That’s a strange combination.  It’s Wednesday night. Quite environment and so clear out that not even the light pollution can drown out every star in the sky. The air is cool and crisp for a Florida night.  But the people here do not notice it. “Hey Google, Hey Siri, is there life out there?”  Yes, just look up dummy. 

Blake and Max. Christmas Eve December 24, 2022.


© Copyright 2023 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to publish. 

Sunday, October 23, 2022

Halloween Tales: Soul Collecting

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Nico and Christopher at the gym. October 14, 2022. 

October 23, 2022

The party ended and everyone was filing out for the night. Beer bottles littered the lawn. Solo cups and liquor bottles were strewn about the end tables and kitchen counter inside the house. Mike was excited things were winding down so he could finally contemplate turning 40 years old. His birthday party was a success. Everyone had a great time. Good food and good music is more than anyone could ask for. Mike began to clean up the mess.

“So much pot smell in the air” Mike said while waving his hand in an attempt to air out the house.

“Well, the good thing is that you’ll be high for a week,” Danny (Mike’s girlfriend) said with a chuckle. “And for God sakes, do that clean up tomorrow.”

“I probably should. But I hate that all this crap is laying around all night,” he said while throwing bottles in a black bag. “I’ll do a little bit..”

“Who’s that?” His wife asked cutting Mike off mid-sentence.


“There is a guy sitting in our lawn chair in the backyard. I thought everyone had left.”

Mike placed the bag on the floor and walked towards the sliding glass doors while peering out the window until he got to the point where he could press his face against the glass.

“I don’t recognize him. But really I wouldn’t know. I was so busy. I don’t remember who was here, honestly.

Hey!” Mike shouted through the closed door while pounding his fist on the glass.

The person didn’t move.

“Honey, open the door.”

Mike opened the sliding glass door.

“Hey you, buddy.” Mike said.

The person didn’t move.

“Go over there, chicken.”

“Easy for you to say while laying on the couch,” Mike said frustrated. “The dudes scaring me. He’s either drunk or dead..”

“He’s probably drunk or stoned.”

Mike walked out the door and to the edge of the patio concrete before it met the grass.

As he got closer to the figure he could see the persons right leg bouncing up and down. Like a nervous tick

“He’s definitely not high,” he shouted.

“Go over there, Mike.”

“Hey buddy, the parties over,” Mike shouted.

The figures leg stopped shaking.

“Hey man. You-you gotta go,” he said.

Mike reached back to the patio table and grabbed a partially filled red solo cup. He then chucked the cup forward hitting the guy in the back of the head. The liquor showered over the figure.

“You gonna ignore me?! I’ll kick your ass man!”

The unknown person leaned forward. He reached back and feverishly shook the back of his hair. The excessive liquor scattered. Suddenly, his head rolled off his shoulders and fell towards the ground like a bowling ball rolling off a shelf. His head landed on the ground between his feet. The rest of the torso summersaulted forward and rolled about 3 feet away.

“What strain of weed were we smoking!” Mike exclaimed.

The torso placed its appendages firmly in the grass and lifted its torso off the ground. Walking on all 4’s towards his head. The elongated body leaned downward and dipped the pectoral chest forward to scooped up its head. A long broad like muscle in the formation of a strap reaches down like a chinstrap from the skull. The fleshy muscle head extended down into the clavicle and chest grasping firmly onto the body. The carotid arteries shot out like a runway fire hose spurting blood all over the place until it plunged down into the chest cavity attaching itself to the heart. Throat and esophagus structure began to grow from the hole where the head would sit and build its self into the nasal and lower jaw regions. Muscle fibers intertwined and slow build over the cranium and face structure. The head was reattached. Skin stretched from the body and shrank wrapped over the head. Fire burned holes out in the eye sockets, nasal passage and mouth and holes appears they were quickly filled with eyes, tongue and teeth. The beast has risen.

Mike was speechless. He could not, would not, and did not, believe what he was seeing was actually happening. He stumbled backwards and tripped on the patio chair.  He fell backward violently and broke his left wrist when he fell awkwardly into the ground.

“Ugh!” He screamed in pain.

The figure placed the palms of its hands firmly on the ground and pushed its toros up and its legs slowly reaches upwards until he was at a full handstand. This lasted for about 20 seconds until his legs collapsed onto each other transferring to the ground. As this was happening his arms left the ground and went up in the opposite direction until he was standing in the proper position. It was the craziest thing ever.

The beasts demeanor was wretched. His eyes wicked. A high pitched sound emanates from his mouth. By this time Danny was standing up in the living room. She witnessed everything train. She turned and went running while screaming through the house and out the front door.

Mike got to his feet and turned back but there the beast was. Right before him. Mike was cornered. Too scared to run. Confrontation was his only option.

But what was this? Why now? Where did this thing, come from and why of all nights did it decide to come out now on his birthday?

“What are you?” Michael demanded an answer before he was dead.

The beast reached out and trapped the brown wrist. Mike trembled. The beast gently grasped his limp hand and raised his arm placing the broken wrist against his chest.

“You forgot Michael. The deal we made for you life? It’s time to pay up.”

“What deal? What are you talking about?”

“This night. On your 40th birthday. It’s time. Your time to go.”

Mike was flustered. He racked his brain trying to recall this deal he made. He’s not rich. Not talented. Nothing special that he can figure he has gained over the last few years that would warrant a so called payback.

“You got the wrong person. The wrong place. The wrong time. You gotta be in the wrong backyard.” Mike pleaded.

“No, this is the spot. The place we made the deal. You know I was coming for you. Do you think I would just kill you? Take a life without rhyme or reason.”

“I’m a good person. I don’t do bad deeds. I beg of you, rethink your motive. Revisit and recollect whom you truly want. It’s not me. Not now.” Mike pleaded

“Oh but this is the right place. The right time. And the right moment. I don’t ever forget a soul. Especially a soul a person freely gives up. You’re such a fool. But most humans are.”

“Please, I’ll do anything. What more do you want from me? This can’t be the be all that ends all!”

“So greedy. So naive. Normally you’d be dead with one touch but I’m rather enjoying this begging. It is giving me such pleasure.

Think Michael. Think why I’m here”

Michael closed his eyes preparing for the worst. He wanted this to end. He resigned to his fate that he was going to die but he wanted it to happen now. No more torture.

Memories of his life began to scan through his mind as quickly as a person scrolled through their phone. Being picked up and tossed by his dad. His mom kissing him good night. His brother tackling him the front yard while they played a quick game of football. His prom night and college years. The late night office work and beers with his friends. Meeting Danielle, who he affectionately called Danny. She was the love of his life. He remembered their wedding. The honeymoon in Hawaii. The trips over the world. The good times and the bad times. The miscarriages and loss of the one thing they truly wanted, a baby.

They had a wicked argument. Danny was upset. They lost another invitro baby.

“I’m through. I’m through!” She yelled during a fight in the kitchen. “My body. My mind. I can’t do this anymore. I’m drained. Face it Michael. We won’t have a baby!”

When she left the room Michael poured some whiskey in a glass. Shot it quickly. Took another and another- another. He stumbled out the glass doors and into the backyard. He had the whiskey bottle in his hand and yelled at the sky. “I’ll do anything. Anything. Give her a baby!” He threw the bottle up in the air. It went straight up and fell straight back down crashing over Michael’s head knocking him out cold. The beast was there. Asking him if he meant what he said that he’d do anything “anything for a baby.” Michael said yes and sold his soul. Michael realized he had made the deal.

“She’s pregnant?” Michael realized and began to sob.  “She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. You’re right.” Michael cried out. “I-I made this deal. So your here because she’s pregnant.”

“I knew that moment would come back to you,” the beast said with a reassuring voice.

“Collect it- collect my soul and let them live,” Michael cried.

“Or you cold.  Well, never mind Michael, prepare to die.”

“Could what? What? tell me. I’ll do anything.”

“Give me the baby’s soul so that I can live on within your world. A spawn. So I can come back to the living. And you Michael. You will be my father. You will rule until I can take over. But you will raise me with beloved, Danny.”

The beast let go and Michael fell to the ground. Michael screamed in pain and looked at his left wrist. It started to heal. His flesh and bone returned to normal. Michael rose up to his knees.

The beast reached out his hand.

“Do we have a deal?”

Michael stared at him. He bowed his head and reached out his hand in agreement.

Blake and Max. Mommy capturing special moments. October 19, 2022.


© Copyright 2022 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to publish. 

Saturday, October 8, 2022

You're Never Alone When You have the Sea

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Nico and Christopher Jr. on a facetime with family. September 14, 2022.

October 8, 2022

    The ocean is a great place to be anytime you need a moment to reflect on whatever is going on in your life. The sea is not for everyone mind you. The sand is so clingy that when you think it’s all gone you’ll find it falling out of some skin fold of your body about 2 weeks later. There are sea lice and sand fleas and there’s tar on the bottoms of your feet. Washed up man-o-wars along the shoreline from time to time. 

    And we all know that there are plenty of sharks in the ocean, along with other water creatures that go swimming by. But, let me tell you something else about the ocean. Allow me to speak about the things that make it so great.  Because you’re never alone when you have the sea.

    The ocean is vast and you won’t understand how vast it is until you see it. The sound of the waves lapping the shoreline can drown out your sorrows. There’s no echo’s, just the deep blue water absorbing your words, feeling, and your thoughts. It’s a magical place to be.  The ocean on its surface can be barren as a desert but there is so much more life than a place with no water.

    The ocean is unrelenting and unforgiving, much as life, but for some reason it will offer you serenity and peace that sometimes you think only the dead can experience. It can literally take your breath away when the waves are huge and the undertow pulls you out to sea. That’s why one has to respect her power while observing her beauty and understand her temperament. But the smell of the ocean can tug at your sense and offer relief from the other stressors in your life. Man, she can be a bitch. But I love her.

    The waves crashing along the shores on an otherwise calm day The squeal of the seagulls cry in the distance piercing the overwhelming roar of the ocean. So many people sitting by the shoreline swimming, playing but if you look closely you will see those who are praying by her side as if it was one gigantic wishing well.

    It’s romantic to be on the shoreline during a sunrise, sunset or moonlit night. You can be there at whatever moment that brings out the romance in your life.   The ocean will embrace you when you are alone just as much as the love by your side that is snuggling up against you. The ocean spraying ocean water on you as if it was kissing you and the liquid gently clinging to your skin as a lover would do. It will bring out a smile.

    I read once on twitter that this person hated the beach because it felt like camping. All the comforts from home they lambasted as they dragged a cart full of items that would envy any living room, in order to protect themself from the elements, they opined. 

    This is true. Sometime you have to pack. The cooler, a tent, blanket towels and food, find your spot upon the sand to set up shop. For them this “hassle” was too much of burden to bear. I can see where they get their dissatisfaction from it but what would you expect from a novice?

    There are things that are not that great about the ocean. And not everyone will embrace all she has to offer. But to ignore the psychological benefits you gain as you sit on the shore and breathe in that air, observe her strength and exhale your worries, is a disservice to yourself and your senses to ignore her. The ocean is the place to be. You can be on a deserted island only not being on a deserted island. Yes, it’s the beach for me.

Maximilian, Blake and Captain Imperfecto clowning around. September 30, 2022.


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Sunday, July 31, 2022

Don't Be Like Me

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Christopher and Nico and family enjoying pizza at one of our favorite restaurants.  July 23, 2022.

July 31, 2022

I suppressed the trauma that occurred a decade ago by avoiding my thoughts of the incidents in my desire to feel normal again. If you think avoiding it was good in order to move forward lets see who would want to be like me.

Over the last 10 years I have been going about my daily life as though nothing bad had happened to me. Isn’t that ridiculous? To assume I could just forget about being human? I mean, I got to the point where I would talk about my past trauma to people and I was proud of myself because I thought I was a strong person for doing it.

Self thought- “Look at me, this bad ass cop moving on with his life after losing 2 kids and then my wife, nothing to see here.”

These traumatic incidents weren’t a small thing but I didn’t think I was deserving of such pity so I underplayed it. The first trauma I experienced was never addressed and the 2nd trauma took 2 years of my life away because I couldn’t deal with the future so I paused my past. I struggled to cope with the bad hand I had been dealt but felt undeserving of being helped because I felt other people were more deserving than me.

Man I mentally beat myself up.

The fear, anxiety, and sadness of not being able to control my fate in those traumatic times took its toll on me and whittled me down into nothing. How foolish I am to think that I could simply throw human emotion aside.

There is nothing to see here.

There was guilt, anger, frustration, and bouts and bouts of extreme sadness during my era of trauma.

Eh moving on, right?

God, what an awful experiences it was over those years back in 2006 and 2012. I thought I had worked it out and understood what I went through but now it seems that I didn’t beat anything. During that period I had enough and was desperate, near my wits end, to feel normal again so I rushed the process of coping. I put my guards up, forgone victimhood and beat my emotions into submission, in order for me to climb out of my hole and to feel somewhat normal again. But in reality, all that work I did for myself was to fight this trauma, not heal. I wanted to beat this beast, to knock the hell out of it, so I could live a functional life by forgetting the deep aspects of the incidents. But now it seems as if that struggle to hide was all bullshit. Recently I exposed my charade to myself and realized I had forgone my counseling to place my emotions on pause to suppress my thoughts and ignored my pain and the peace I obtained was only temporary. I hid behind my mask by burying myself in work, school and kids.

I did what I had to do in order to move forward and survive. I couldn’t live that way and yearned for normalcy. The struggle back then was real so wouldn’t you rather bury it then face it?

I didn’t expect that 10 years later that emotional cap would be ripped off allowing the demons to rear it’s ugly head. How could this be though? I beat my emotions, so I thought. I moved on, didn’t I? I rebuilt my life, isn’t this evident?

How could this range of emotions happen to me, yet again? Well, read above again and you’ll know.

But what happens when that emotional band-aid is ripped off?

Well, fast forward to 2022 and it turns out one police call would tap into my mind and unleash those emotions like a well shaken carbonated soda.

I responded to a frantic 9-1-1 call. A family was in a crisis. They were in the middle of losing their child, they hadn’t known it yet, and CPR was being performed. He was a little boy, a toddler, living his best life that was tragically coming to an end in a horrible accident. And I responded to it. Although the circumstances of this family’s life were different than my situation I could see our emotions were headed on a paralleled path and I understood what was about to happen to them. It’s a hell of a thing to witness a families undoing in real time. The emotion in the air smelled familiar and it activated me internally.

Why, 10 freaking years later?!

I was professional and did what I am expected to do for the family and child but it was breaking me inside. And continues to break me now. But why? I don’t know them. It has nothing to do with me or my situation or my current life. Didn’t I beat my trauma? Besides, I don’t get involved like this. I teach this to recruits how to understand emotion. I stress to new officer’s to empathize and don’t sympathize. It’s for one's own mental health. And yet I’m drawn in. I want out of it. I want to escape. It’s easier to read the headline and scroll past it rather then to be knee deep into it.

But here I am being the professional. Doing my job. Along with so many other wonderful men and women on this chaotic scene rooting for him to breathe. I want him to survive. I have a little boy his age. And I know that it’s not going to happen for them.

The worst fears were met. Their little boy won’t return. I hope they grieve. I hope they work it out and learn to cope. Don’t suppress it like me. Don’t hide it like me. Live it so you can control it so you’ll never have to face that horrible moment again when you least expect it. Don’t be like me.

The boys at another on of our favorite places to eat as a family. Blake, Christopher, Jr., Nico and Max July 23, 2022.

**National Drowning Prevention

Mental Health Counseling


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Saturday, April 30, 2022


You are here: Home » Journey

Nico and Christopher Easter day April 17, 2022.

April 30, 2022

I was standing in the long line at an Easter festival with 2 of my 4 children. The line was for a bounce house. It seemed like an endless journey just for them to experience 30 seconds of enjoyment while I endured 30 minutes of hell trying to keep them preoccupied until it was their turn to enter the inflatable house.

A DJ was streaming music to the right of us. He was trying to make announcements about the current events going on elsewhere in the ball fields but he was drowned out by his own music and lack of conviction in his voice. The kids were littered everywhere like Easter eggs we would later hunt. It was sure to be a continuous madhouse throughout the day.

Such is life as a parent.

These rides and games were a staging area to placate the children until it was their age groups turn to hunt for Easter eggs in adjourning field. It was a wild scene all around me as the toddlers and young children thumbed their noses at their parents while running around like wild horses in green pastures. Us parents firmly in place at our current position not daring to move thus losing our spot.

My baby boys hung on me like monkey bars attached to a jungle gym. I guess there are worse perils for a big guy like me. My first son climbed me like a wild tree climbing animal until he could mount himself on top of my shoulders like a sassy house cat. My second son clung to my leg like a greenpeace activist who was hugging a tree. He cried and carried-on because he wanted to sit on my shoulders as well but the idea of trying to explain the concept of one at a time was not going to work. So to be fair, I’d rotate them so I could appease the child mob. One up. Then down.  It was a constant rotation.

The line nudged forward. I would take 2 steps. Stop. Wait. Carry. Drag. Placate. Repeat. And so it went. 

Moms and dads have to have helicopter arms. My hands grabbing my kid’s appendage and my powerful legs lifting or lowering their tiny bodies that weighed like sand bags. I must say this was a great workout.

Parenthood isn’t easy and it is moments like this I question to myself, “self, why did you have kids?”   If I didn’t have kids I would travel the world and see things that I have always wanted to see. Putting myself first. Instead here I stand holding my ground in this 2 square foot of space so that these 2 can enjoy some romper room fun and then later the Easter bunny. Yes, I guess I could say, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t know any other life other then this current one.

My kids got bored of me and scampered around the area my body was grateful for the rest but now my eyes were continuously scanning for them.  Not only for their safety but I wanted them near because we were getting close to the entrance.  Come hell or high water, their butts are getting in that bounce house.

Finally, the moment of truth for the beginning of the end of this line because my wait was over.  I wanted to grab the mic from the DJ and announce to the crowd. 

<pat, pat> smacking the mic.  I would blow into it.  

“Excuse me everyone.  I did it.  I successfully stood in this line and suffered immense mental anguish as we inched along like the back legs of a caterpillar whose head crossed the finish line hours ago.  Thank you.” 

They boys enter the bounce house at hot as a fever on a kid who doesn’t want to go to school. The boy’s zigzag around the inflated poles until they knock into each other, giggling as they fall to the ground. Their little bodies bounce of the floor. They scamper to the wall and to my surprise they climb the wall that leads to the slide. One goes down headfirst. The other rolls down in an uncontrolled fall. Both of them boys landing at the bottom of the inflated platform, creasing the center, crating the middle and then they folded into each other.  <clank> goes their heads but they laughed.   

Before I could control them. They rolled off and cut the line and did it again. I pretended to be upset and apologized to the parents for their craziness all the while they snuck by me and did it a 3rd time. I apologized again, rounded them up and left to go see the Easter bunny.

That line was longer than the bouncy house line. I don’t think my body can withstand another 45 minutes or so of flipping them, tossing them and having them cling to my body. I’ll zone out and imagine being on a French Riviera. But I want you to know, I’m grateful for this journey and enjoying the only life I know.

The 4 boys, left to right. Blake, Nico, Christopher Jr., and Max. Easter April 17, 2022.


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