I can’t find my hair dryer!

I just read that today is the anniversary of Princess Diana’s death. The information brought me back to what I was doing eight years ago today. I was twenty six years old.

I was living in the upper portion of a spilt level house two blocks away from the Warren Stamping plant (Eminem’s old place of employment). The rickety, wooden stairs leading to my upper half were coming unattached from the weathered aluminum siding. I always had visions of it finally just pulling the rest of the way from the house and dumping me over the neighbors chain link fence. The house was across the street from a Burger King that seemed to do nothing but burn their flame broiled hamburgers to a crisp. The whole block always smelled like singed whoppers. On the other corner was a small local bar with a proper name that I can’t remember. It was something like “Joe’s” or “Jack’s Place”. When I would leave the house for work at eight am, the would be three or four local drunks hanging outside, waiting for the place to open up.

I was living in this neighborhood because my “abusive” boyfriend and I had finally called it quits. We had been dating for two years and living in his house on the East side of Detroit for maybe six months. I put “abusive” in quotes because yeah, he was a jerk, a big one at that, but really, the old adage, “it takes two to tango” is true. We were both sick, wounded and acting out in unimaginable ways. I was clean from drugs for about two months at that point. Or in the terms of the 12 step program I was attending, 60 days. Finally with my head somewhat clear, I left. I was so desperate to be anywhere else, I said yes to the first place I saw, and this was it. I remember signing the lease with a clenched jaw, churning stomach and the pressure of emotion in my chest wanting to erupt into tears.

Looking back, I have to cut myself some slack. I would have made better decisions had I been in my right mind. They tell you lots of things in those meetings. One of them is not to make any major life decisions for the first year of your sobriety. Sometimes, decisions can’t be put off and your feet go into the fire, ready or not.

The inside was painted mint green and the threadbare carpets were grey. Near the end of my lease, there were so many roaches thanks to the occupant downstairs, I was almost afraid to go to bed at night. Speaking of the occupant downstairs, he was drunk all the time. A big, smelly, drooling, hairy, drunk man in a wife beater t-shirt and his blue collar work pants hanging too low. Fortunately he rarely came outside and when he did, he was too much in a stupor to do anything but sit on his porch nursing his “forty”.

I was sitting on my futon contemplating a colorful bag of glass fragments that I had picked up from around the neighborhood. I had starting making crafts to keep me busy. I was working on a mosaic candle holder. The news was on in the background. I remember hearing the newscaster say that Princess Diana had died. My heart sank. The same sinking feeling I had when I heard the news that Mitch Hedberg and John Ritter died. A person that was bigger than life, celebrated and glittering was gone. If people like that could die…..I could die.

At the time, I didn’t think of it in those terms. Also, I think that’s only part of it.

I think about mortality a lot. Maybe more than I should. I hope that when I go, ninety or so years from now, I exit with grace and nobility. I wish to have touched people’s lives and made connections that stretch beyond the grave. I think about these things and today I’m in love with people. Today I think that we are beautiful, special and amazing creatures that make my heart explode with gratitude. I love my husband and my friends and couldn’t dream of a better life.

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