Guest Blogger - Charming Driver

Please welcome Guest Blogger Charming Driver.  Ms Charming is a woman after my own heart.  She is smart, alert, and very deep.  

You have to go read her blog.

No.  Really.  Even if reading her blog means that you stop reading mine, go do it.

Hi, Readers of Gunfighter. Our lovely host Bill has kindly allowed me to shack up in here while he is enjoying the wonders of Florida and I would like to take this opportunity to first thank Bill for being so gracious as to share his lair with me.

I have been drawn to Bill since first reading him because he was one of the few men who reached out to my husband Deels who sometimes shares writing space on my (um, our?) blog. Along with shared politics, Bill and I also have similar marriages in that both of our unions are inter-racial. Those are good commonalities to have, without a doubt.

Sadly, we have another cross over in the Venn Diagram representing life experiences in that we both have addict sisters. Unfortunately, Bill lost his sister when she lost her battle with addiction. My sister is, again, going down that same horrifying road. At this time after going to in-patient treatment three times in a year and a consistent inability of she and her husband to get their shit together simultaneously, my aforementioned husband and  myself have custody of their three children.

Right now, on all fronts pertaining to my sister, things look pretty bleak. I try my best to not focus on that so much anymore because I have finally relented in knowing there is nothing I can do to make her stop until she's ready and certainly not a thing I can do to effect her husband's behavior. All of our collective energy must now be channeled into those sweet kids, to make their lives as safe, happy and secure as possible.

Having now spent more time than I intended in talking about the negative concerning my sister, I want to change the pace and end this on a high note, on a love note actually. What follows is a love-letter of sorts to my sister, the one I used to know, the one that used to care about her kids, her family and herself. I want that sister back. Maybe putting that out in the universe will do more than my begging, pleading, cajoling and nagging have accomplished. All I can do is try, right.

To My Sister:

I've never not known you or had you in my life. You are the oldest, the guinea pig, the first child who absorbed most of the teaching moments in our parents first excursion into parenthood. You have been there literally every single day of my life in spirit if not in presence.

Do you remember when we were little, tiny girls and we shared a room? I remember that like it was yesterday, keeping you up at night belching on purpose, making you laugh and cringe all at once. I remember when we had bunk beds and I fell down from the top bunk, you were playing with dolls and tried to catch me, break my fall. We both ended up hurt but laughing about it later. I remember when you would come lay with me, even when I was so hot from fever just to hold my hand and tell me it was okay, you wouldn't leave me.

As we got older we decided two bedrooms were better than a shared bedroom and a playroom. We never lasted long in separate bedrooms. We were, until we were much older, drawn to staying together, sleeping together many night though we had our own beds. Have you ever looked back at the pictures of us together at holidays? No matter if we were at home or at Mama and Papa's in Birmingham, no matter how many cousins were around, we were always together, usually holding hands like wee little Irish twins. We were each other's favorite person and made no effort to hide our affection.

Of course as we grew older, we grew apart little by little but always, always you were my sister, my friend. It was not doubted that anyone who looked at either of us cross-eyed they  would have both of us to answer to because together we were unstoppable. Impenetrable.  Inseparable. Even as changes in our adult lives pulled us to separate paths, the bond was there and unbreakable. Through marriages, through kids, till death do us part, we were connected.

Now that is gone and I don't know how to find my sister. A crack fiend unable and unwilling to break that chain in now in her place. My sister, my love, wouldn't sell her ass piece meal style for poison rocks that would keep her from her children, her family and her life. But this person, this slave to a pipe will do all that and more for just another hit. Please, please while you're out doing what it is you do, please try to find my sister. Her parents, her sister, her beautiful kids, miss her and want her back. I want only to meet my sister again before she meets Bill sister on the other side, wherever that may be.

Love -

Shannon