Memoirs of a Marijuana Mom

smoke stories

//chapter four: smoke stories.//

________________________________________________________________________________

The swirl of the smoke, the beauty of the light gas against the dark night sky. These are the things that made a deadly drug so appealing.

So appealing in fact, it's probably the only reason it's legal. No, I'm not talking about marijuana, obviously, because it's not legal. And not deadly. I'm talking about cigarettes, tobacco. For something that can be linked to so many health conditions; cancer, COPD, heart disease, stroke, it's crazy how you can still pick it up at your local CVS.

However, marijuana has yet to be linked to any major health conditions. Sad really, this wonderful little plant, that cures so much, is illegal because of pure racism and prejudice. It's like meeting your soulmate and turning them down because of prejudices shared on the local news.

"Luna!" My mom shouts as I finish a race course on Forza, I get startled but look over and send a quick pet to my cat's head. "Go ask your father what he wants to drink," She tells me once I reach the counter.

"Yea, of course," I walk outside to the smell of nicotine. Oh God, how I hate it. The burning in your lungs, the smell permitting every nook and cranny of your senses. I hate it. I always have.

"Dad?" I shout and inhale the last bit of good air I have left. He turns around and nods his head up as he lets spurts of smoke out. "What do you want to drink?"

He inhales his cigarette to quickly puff it out with an answer, "The Pepsi's fine, does your mother need any help?" I nod and quickly look back at my mom measuring spices and running back to the stove to mix them in a large pan. "Go help her Luna." 

I close the garage door and allow myself to breathe freely now, the new aroma of spices much more pleasant than the previous smell of nicotine. I walk up to the counter and ask my mother if she needs help, she nods and I proceed to help. Once my father walks in, I hold my breath here and there and cover my nose so the smell doesn't hit me so quick. 

After dinner, my dad goes outside yet again and I sigh, looking at my mom. She got caught up in a new tv show and hears me. "Where'd he go?" She asks, diverting her attention. "Did he go out to smoke?" I nod and my mom just sighs.

To anyone who tries to say, Marijuana is an addictive drug, a gateway.... 

You've obviously never met a cigarette smoker.

________________________________________________________________________________

hey guys, guess whos not dead??? sorry this chapter was so short. ive been having a hard time emotionally and havent had inspo for this book, but now ive had more ideas, and ive also been working on another book, which wont be posted for a while tho