Is a Dream Just a Dream?

Blue Green Colors Flashing

Never let it be said that I can't appreciate the advancements of modern science. My boys, all three of them in black and white written and sworn to. They're all mine. Three little Bucks, and Dylan Marsters whatever the hell he goes by can kiss my ass. Kristen right along with him. Because will was the one who told me I let him read the letter too, I've never seen my oldest son so relieved and so elated at the same time. He gave me a hug and cried a little, which is fine he has a sensitive soul. Then he ran to Bryce and told him, since he's lived with this dark speculation longer than either of us. He too was shocked then relieved then excited, however there was no hug and no tears.

Derrick is blissfully unaware that any of this happened and if I can help it he'll remain in the dark. The holidays came and went, and the boys will be back with their mother on Monday for the start of the second semester in school. We also have the first real day of court on Tuesday and I'm glad that they won't be present for what I plan to be a firey confrontation. My lawyer has briefed me on his plan of attack, and his motion to reduce spousal support down to the bare minimum. Kristen is able bodied, college educated, and has a circle of friends in high places. She's also in her forties and in exceedingly good health.

She doesn't have a job because she's lazy, not because she can't work or because I forbid her to. I on the other hand have had my ability to perform handicapped for at least nine months, thanks in part to her horrid treatment of me at the onset of my recovery. Stevie gets all of the credit for how I am today, walking talking, singing and playing my guitar again. I'm not ready for a full on two-hour Fleetwood Mac concert but I'm getting there slowly.

"Your syllabus says one set of well-made chef's knives. What does well made mean?" Bryce rolls his eyes poking the various pots pans and kitchen gadgets in the restaurant supply store. "It means something upmarket, just let me pick them out okay. Would you let me pick out your next guitar?" Not by a long shot, no one picks my guitars. Even the guitar Stevie bought me so long ago was one I whined and pined and grumbled over for weeks, she just paid attention.

Of course he goes immediately for the expensive ones made for some guy on a show called "Iron Chef". His eyes are wide with wonder each aisle that passes, he's like Derrick at the comic shop. He's like me at the music store...just like me. My son. Sniffing I pat his back and hug him to me briefly, the look I get is a priceless mixture of "What the fuck?" and "Dad's gone senile". Smiling I shake his shoulder and hug him again "Bryce, I love you buddy" I feel like tearing up.

He pats my back looking around to make sure no one his age can see "Have you been eating pot brownies with Aunt Steph again?" Not since New Years...

Stevie took Will and Derrick to some clothing store called the "Limited". Which I guess means all of the clothes in there are sold in limited quantities, or the imagination used to design them was "limited". Bryce bristled like a vampire in the son when she asked if he wanted to stop in. That's why he's with me and Stevie's with the other two, Bryce wears skinny jeans and black concert t-shirts. The only name brands I've ever seen him wear are Vans, and Converse.

Check out is a painless, we've already checked everything off his culinary club list and I've give him a lecture about knives and how he should be responsible with them. And careful. Very, very careful. We exit the store and find Stevie, Will and Derrick waiting for us and for probably the fourth time today I grab Derrick and hug him "Hey kiddo". Normally he doesn't mind hugs so much but he's starting to get like Bryce "Hey dad..." I run my hands over his short brown hair and smile "I love you Derrick" he nods giving Bryce a look "I love you too dad".

Will on the other hand jumps at a free hug and of course has no problem with me telling him I love him. The world is so much more delightful now. My boys are my boys all three of them. "Hey, while you're handing out hugs over there" Of course, Stevie walks over and she gets a hug, and a kiss and a nuzzle of her neck "I love you baby". She smiles kissing my cheek "You're such a dork".