Chaperone

Things look different this morning.

I must be really patient or something. She really does need someone to look after her; I guess she hasn’t burned me down like all the rest of the guys. She’s a real hardcore drinker. I don’t drink any more, really – one every now and then, not often, and not like before.

This chaperone thing is like walking through a minefield that you have a map of… I’ve known her 17 years, but the map’s only like 80 -85% complete, and  so often you step on a mine – not mostly a killer, these days, and I suppose one gets a thicker skin with practise. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, I guess, like the calligraphy above my front door says.

And, I do suppose I have experience; dad was an alcoholic too, especially after mom died.  As the oldest son, I guess it was my task to deal with dad; my brother kind of skated on that one, but he had his own problems later.  I got to the point, then and now, where I’m really vigilant about what I say; I’ve gotten really good at it and didn’t really realize how it really is.

Sure, it’s been fun, of a kind, mostly, and lord knows I wasn’t complaining, and haven’t and am not, really.  It’s just tonight, things look very different.  Nothing HAPPENED – it all worked out; I took her out, she got drunk, we talked, I took her "home", to where she’s living with some guy that was her high school friend, way back when.

She called me, they got in a fight, apparently, and he took his pillow and blanket to his truck and drove off.  I drove her around, we stopped at some bar with a live band – really loud – and we dropped by a co-worker’s of hers, where she volunteers, at almost 1:30; I got her home about 2:30, and drove home myself. AM, mind you.

It’s that perspective thing:  How it Looks changes how it Is.

She really does need someone to look after her and better me than some stranger.  Right?

Makes me wonder just how good a friend I really am.  They say ya gotta hit rock-bottom before you can bounce back, and I’m kinda like acting like her pillow, keeping her from hitting that rock-bottom.  She’s burned out or burned down the other "pillows", the other guys who took care of her and chaperoned her through black-out drunks.

Makes me question myself – how good a friend am I being?

Boy, change your perspective and everything looks different.

 

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