Will be cursing in this post

 This morning as I was walking my dog when my memories started.  Sometimes I know what will trigger a memory of my past and my Mom.  Sometimes it is a certain smell, or when I am looking at jewelry.  I remember her loving turquoise with silver.  She wore the big turquoise rings and silver bracelets.  Not sure why she wore so many rings because unfortunately, our genes did not pass down the beautiful long thin fingers like you may see some women have.  Sometimes a trigger may be me seeing someone walk similar to the way my Mom walked.  I actually had a friend tell me "I like how your Mom walks".  She did have a special type of walk.  She has long legs and would almost seem as though she walked on her toes.  I will tell you that she always had great posture.  Always kept her shoulders back and her stomach tucked in, I never recall my Mom slouching.  

This memory sorta starts from where I left off after the three of us moved in with my Mom for a few days at least.  As you know, my Mom didn't live in the greatest area in Phoenix.  It was the hood. My friends didn't judge.  I guess we were so happy to be in a big city and we were just excited to get out and explore.  Had no idea where we really were, and we were completely invincible, blind, and just down-right ignorant to the area we were at.  Even later that day or the next day when my friend and I walked to the payphone to call home to let our family know we got to Phoenix safely when big lady with hair all over the place and a toddler in tow came up to us and asks us "do you have any crystal?".  My ignorant self looked at my friend puzzled and whispered to her "you have one around your neck" my friend looked at me and says "No dummy!  She is not asking about that type of crystal, she is asking if we have the type you smoke!".  I just started laughing and we both just started walking away (maybe running) from the lady to the payphone.  And at night there would be gunfire.  Still didn't phase us.  

I did get phased when I used the bathroom in my Mom's apartment and saw these old pantyhose hanging from the doorknob on the back of the door.  It seemed odd when I noticed that the hose were tied to have knots throughout them, and what looked like splotches of blood.  I knew exactly what that was, I knew exactly what I was looking at hanging from the back of the door.  These were ties she used to tie off her veins when she was shooting herself up!  I grabbed them and went out to her asked her "what the hell are these?"  She made up some bullshit about her using them when she gets a cut from shaving her legs.  I didn't say anything more because I didn't have to.  She knew what I was getting at and turns around and grabs them and says "see baby, I will throw them in the trash!".  I was still pissed.  But there was nothing I could do, I brought my friends to Phoenix to "save" my Mom and I had to stay there, we had no money and nowhere else to go!  

Do you remember when I posted she was never alone? Or any addicts never start their drugs of choice alone?  That she always had someone else to get the drugs for her?  That is so true!  That nasty greasy, nasty buck-toothed mother fucker called "Skip" was the one that she couldn't live without, the one "that gives me things" "he is good to me Bridget" was outside the next day in the back seat of someone's car with his nasty ass hanging his greasy arms into the front seat making an "exchange" in the car.  Skip was her provider, this is how he kept her happy.