Mom has called three times this afternoon.
"I'll be there at five with your cigarettes," she said on the last call.
This lack of money I am forced to endure extremely complicates my life. You don't realize how nice it is to just hop in your car to go buy something until you no longer have that option for a few years. I try not to complain, though. I have a pretty good life. And the three dollars mom has been giving me is such a blessing.
Mom came over yesterday and stayed for hours. We had a good talk and at times I felt like her therapist. She has been upset that my brother and sister never call her.
"They only call your father and that makes me feel terrible."
"Well, they don't call me either if that makes you feel better," I replied.
"Isn't that the black man you used to hang out all the time with?" mom asked me Saturday on a trip to Fat Albert's.
"Sure is," I said grinning. "That is George."
George is now working at Fat Albert's selling lottery tickets. He looked really good sobered up and dressed nicely. Somehow, I just can't picture George working for someone else, though. He is so fiercely independent.