I was in 6th grade when my dad went away for the first time.
One day my Parents got into a fight and it got so bad that the cops were called because the neighbors thought something was wrong when they heard my mom and dad screaming.
He was gone for 31 days.
He went to Kentucky. For rehab. He was a alcoholic.
The rehabilitation center in Kentucky was a big white building sort of like an old mansion, I remember it specifically because when me and my mom went to visit for the one weekend we could my dad gave us a tour. It was three stories the third for the girls, the second for the staff, and the third for the boys.
On the first story they had two vending Machines, one for drinks and one for snacks. It was right next to the counter for check in.
The yard had a gazebo where everyone smoked cigarettes.
In the boys dorm there were 20 beds a lined up in a row, with suit cases and shoes and cloths Everywhere.
My dad said at night all the guys would gather around and play there guitars.
And everyone would sing and laugh and they didn't need drugs or alcohol to do it. Because let's be honest most everyone's excuse for drinking or smoking or popping pills even doing meth or coke, is because they want to have fun and forget. I know for a long time that's what I told myself
They treated everything there from alcoholism, to drugs.
Me and my mom got to visit for two hours for two days. My brother didn't want to come he didn't want to see my dad so me and my mom went we drove for seven hours. In our little bitty Mercedes-Benz.
The best part about that weekend was a mean my mom we're going we're on a long stretch of highway and this car was going slow in front of us my moms speed up and passed It. I looked down and we are going 125.
My dad came home and he didn't drink for a month and the exact same damn thing happened I came home he was home. It's smelt like nail polish remover. He fought with my mom. Passed out. Woke up crying and sick.
I sorta got used to it. All the yelling. I just became numb to the feeling.
It was my home it's what I lived with it was the only thing I knew. And it fucking sucked. Because there was nothing I could do about it. My brother was no help and there was not much anyone else could do but pray for us.
Even that did not work.
