Member-only story
“That Bill Always Comes Due.”
Words to live by.
Here I am, a middle-aged man, a relatively new father, approaching five decades of lived experience, and I am just starting to come to terms with the fact that I can’t repress a lifetime of pain forever…
That bill always comes due.
As I sit here and read Chris Zappa’s, Hello It’s Me, I am struck by how his words, even through my fatigue, resonant with me.
I’ve spent a large part of today telling at least two people basically the same thing. Some of it I told through laughter, some through tears. It’s my tears that always seem to get to people. Most people never see me cry. Some almost never. So it’s a shock to their system when they do.
It isn’t that I don’t cry because I do. I do it alone. I cry curled up in bed. I cry in the shower as the hot water that is meant to soothe as it hits my body actually provides a good sound cover while I let it out. Not all but some. Like your grandmother’s pressure cooker on the stove. That little thing on top of the boiling pot that’s spinning nearly out of control and the release valve lets out some steam.
Yeah. Like that. Go check out my friend’s piece. It’s what prompted me to write this one.
