All I Can’t Have for Christmas

10.11.14 (Day 323)

What one wants and what one gets are distinctly different things.

I know what I want for Christmas: I want my kids back. If I had three wishes, I’d be selfish and take one of them. Two in fact. My first wish would be for my kids back. My second would be to give the third away.

Sometimes I have to face facts and now is one of those times. At the moment, the fact is my face is fucked.

One of many war wounds, a number of months ago I got my lip split in a fight. With a razor. I won. The split scabbed over and I picked it: repeat until infected, as I did. And it is. I know, I’m pretty (Drexl). Pretty Vacant (John Lydon).

I have a doctors’ appointment this afternoon but until I get this sorted out, I can hardly eat or speak. I don’t eat much anyway but if I’m given doctor’s orders to completely rest my mouth, I may struggle. This mouth of mine may have got me into a lot of trouble in the past but it’s also helped a lot of people, including myself. But it could be that for a period of time, requests for words may be denied. Requests for Words too: the game that so many play and one of my constant interruptions, usually from people who only learn new words by testing whether their move is valid without actually thinking about the words they’re about to use. But they’re learning I guess.

I’m hungry. I have an insatiable appetite but my mouth won’t permit me to sate my hunger. I can’t stop talking; and helping, even if it means that I have to pay undeserved consequences. I wish I could stop thinking; of them: my sister, my wife and my kids; biological, surrogate and accidental. I just can’t let them go, despite the beatings and the threats of more to come. I will not give up.

Sister: my dear sister, The Courts. The girl (aged 16) who walked with me for three miles almost a year ago now, when I was alone and in need. She found me. The sister who I lied to about having somewhere to stay that night and who walked a further three miles home, alone. The sister I spent the night with in a tent not so long ago, as we were both destitute and in need. Alone but together. That’s true love. Blood is thicker than water and we’re thick as the thieves but gold is thicker than blood and my Courts is worth more than her weight in gold. MY Courts: to everyone else she’s Courts but to me, she’s THE Courts; MY Courts. My sister.

Then there’s The Wife of course. We’ve effectively split up now but just like The Courts, The Wife will always be mine in some respects. Similarly, The Dog, The Ninja, The fold-up and all of the others: always affectionately known to me by the names I gave them. And most of them still with me, at least in spirit. Some aren’t allowed to see me, like my own kids aren’t but they’re all in my heart. Because we know what we went through. Together.

We’ll always be judged, mainly by parents who either don’t know or who know but don’t understand; don’t understand their own kids like I do. Some wish me dead because they can’t do what I do. Well I do and I will keep doing it, because I can and I want to keep the kids going. Just talk to your own kids and they’ll tell you.

At least one of the kids will be helping me out on Christmas Day. I’ll be working. I’ll be feeding the homeless and needy. I don’t want to be in the way of a family, even though I’m part of one. At least one of the kids feels the same.

So Christmas Day will be spent exactly as I wish: with my kids.

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