not see was that Scotty lit up his mother, Mary on the inside so completely that at that moment her darkness disappeared. She felt whole and happy.
Scotty thought today was full of sunshine and happiness. I cannot tell my dad about Mom. My dad needs his weekend to relax and prepare for his next week of work. Mom and I will work this out.
And that was the way it was: Scotty kept quiet. Scotty buried his anger. And Mary never said a word. Life continued.
Mary had a never-ending search for comfort and her friends came to her aid. Her drug use escalated. She moved to street drugs. She dabbled in crystal meth. Her addiction progressed to opiates in the form of heroin. Throughout this time, she still felt on top.
She needed her next fix to feel real natural joy. Her addiction became such that she cared for nothing else. She pursued an addictive life.
She lived in disbelief. She told herself, “I am no druggie engaged in covert activities, and I am no criminal. My customers admire my work. If Scotty misunderstands, I clear it up with a smile and an apology and all is well.”
Mary could not have been more wrong.
One evening all alone Scotty wrote in his diary, 'Life is unpredictable. Mom is emotionally and physically abusive, slapping me, telling me I am garbage and imposing all kinds of arbitrary rules. My mom is someone else. She is someone I once loved but now, I fear. I am ashamed to say that all I love is the memory of who she was. She manipulates me and sweet-talks and then without conscience she deceives me, extinguishing any hope. Sometimes, on my blackest days, I wonder what I would feel if the police came to tell me she was dead. I do not know. I pray I do not find out. I often stay home from school because she is too fragile to be home by herself. When I am in school, instead of paying attention to my teachers, I spend all day worrying about how my mom is doing---plus, I am weighed down with keeping the secret that I have a “crazy” mother. It is tough for me to be sympathetic. Instead, I feel angry. I am getting a job soon to have an excuse to spend time away from home.'
Scotty kept the lawn and the rose garden manicured and healthy. By cutting the grass shorter it took a far longer time to grow back so, he had more time to work on his other projects. There was always so much he wanted to do. First, he needed to tackle the dandelion.
The dandelion had a boldness that Scotty just did not care for. It was too tall, too yellow and in the wrong place. He stopped and thought this is my lawn and what on earth does that flower think it is doing there? I want green. I plan for green and I will get it perfect, even uniform green.
Adam was home surveying the perfect lawn with a smile as his son faster than a speeding bullet bent over the brash little flower and plucked it. Adam giggled.
The sound of laughter caused Scotty to be straightened up and with a smile, “Hi, Dad. It’s good to have you home.”
“Job well done, this will make your mother happy,” Adam was not noticing Scotty’s silence.
They stood back, admiring nature at its finest. Scotty felt deeply satisfied with his work. Adam swelled with pride, what a great young man and he is my son!
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
