Well, boxes are packed and it feels bittersweet. Tomorrow, we move out of the ghetto. The ghetto was a great place for me to learn and begin a new life. It helped me become more independent and less naive. Like the time I was down in the laundry room and a guy asked me if I liked powder. I was like, "Uhhh, I don't really like the way baby powder feels on my skin. It's so dry and all." When I came upstairs and told Jerry what he'd asked me, I learned about what type of "powder" he was talking about and I laughed hard. No wonder the dude gave me a crazy look!
Many good meals were cooked in the small ghetto kitchen. Enchiladas by Jerry, soups in the winter, salads in the summer, strawberry shortcake from berries we picked in the spring. Lots of messes were made and we had no dishwasher for clean up. Jerry was always there to the rescue. Cleaning up my squalor.
Many laughs and long talks were had in the ghetto. Some nights, we'd say up until 1-2am and then really pay for it the next day when we had to work early. We drank mango margaritas with Jerm and D-Ray on our ghetto porch some evenings after we all got off work. I learned how to use a baby charcoal grill and made us turkey burgers that sometimes fell apart and tasted of lighter fluid.
We saved money by hanging a clothes line outback, by the pond. Sometimes, we would lay in the sun, waiting for the clothes to dry. Sometimes, we'd fish and catch little sunfish. One spring night, we fell asleep under the stars by the clothes line. When we woke up early in the morning, I was so dazed going up the stairs, I tripped on my blanket and dropped my favorite 64 oz water cup. It shattered on the stairs and I was sad. I still miss that cup.
I don't think we'll ever forget Mama D. A troubled soul with a heart of gold. Everyday I come home from work, she'll ask to see my belly. "Awww, girl. You're so beautiful, you are glowing." She's always happy to see you. If she had a tail, it would always be wagging. She likes to drink though. At night, you can hear her ranting, "Ta-to-the-shitass-tit-dow!" On one especially rough night, we found her flip-flop in the parking lot.
The greatest gift was created here, Chloe. After four pregnancy tests we were pretty certain about the night it happened. As much as I will miss the ghetto and all it's characters, this is not the best environment to raise our baby.
I worry about Joe, how will he get to the methadone clinic without Jerry giving him a ride? Who's cell phone will Mama D. borrow? How will Tammy get Lulu to daycare? Who will scrub out the community laundry machine with baking soda and bleach? How will Lumpy get to the grocery store?
It's time for us to fly though. We need to think about us, especially Chloe. So, goodnight ghetto. We'll never forget all the times we've shared.
