Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Here
“Son, every thought will influence every action. Each day we take steps towards life or death. Are you going to live a little or die a little? You must choose wisely.”
Startled, I sprang up in the dead of night. My father’s words are like cattle prods—painful but helpful. As I subconsciously reminisce on his advice, not to mention I notice that tonight is odd. I am aware of everything. My palms are sweaty, but my body is cold. The wind’s howl has died down to an inconsistent murmur. I’m nervous. Nervous about why my father’s advice woke me during the night. Nervous about things that haven’t happened yet. I am distraught, but I realize I am overthinking.
“I need my blunt,” I whisper to myself as I wipe the sleep from my eyes. “It will calm my mind.”
As I roll over to get out of bed, Jazz’s arm and leg which is draped over my body cling to me. She pulls me back to her like I am a sheet falling off the bed. With gentle strength I push her off of me. She rolls over with a grumpy groan but she’s off me.
I step into my silken slippers, my feet are cold like iron. I shiver from the coolness of the silk. I stand paralyzed, because the darkness about me is thick and heavy, and it weighs me down as if I am a beast of burden. My townhouse has a small circular window that is about 10 feet from my bed. The window reminds me of the freedom that awaits me every day. And with this thought, I find strength to take my first step.
I walk humbly towards the window, the Moon light attracts me like a moth. I am jealous of its freedom. The Moon floats along the curvature of the Earth. It hangs so gracefully in the sky. I pay homage to it with a long, silent stare. And it blesses me with the shining of its light. With its gravitational pull the Moon’s omnipotence pulls my soul towards it. Earth is mesmerizing. It causes us to reflect upon the deep things in life. And like the Moon, I am wrapped in darkness.
I look down and notice my pool’s water is smooth like glass, and it reflects the Moon’s light. My dark skin is lost in the blackness of the water, but my white eyes hang in the reflection— ghostlike. The clock reads 2:40am.
“Why am I up?” I ask myself as I look to the Moon to give me an answer. “Oh yeah, my blunt!”
I turn back from the dramatic, loaded dark night and face the abysmal darkness in my house. I am afraid of the darkness and afraid of the light. With my first step I stub my foot on the edge of the door. I let out a deep groan as I hit the floor. The vibrations from my groan race through the wooden floor.
Jazz’s soft voice pierces the darkness, “You aight bae?”
“Yeah, I’m straight,” I reply.
Jazz responds with a faint chuckle that is followed with a sleepy, “Come here, let me kiss it.”
I respond with silence, and my blood begins to flow as I stand up to find my bearings. I walk slowly with caution using the walls to guide me to the kitchen. The ashy light of the Moon fades and the weight of the darkness is placed upon my shoulders once again. I walk to the kitchen, zombie-like. I find the blunt, spark it, and take three meditative pulls. Now, I can rest. My rampant thoughts fade away like dew in the morning Sun.
No more thoughts or memories, the marijuana smoke bullies all thoughts and I only think what the THC tells me to think, slave-like. I walk past my circular window, even in my stupor, it awakens hope deep in my soul. It begins to sober me, so I look away to preserve my high and I am propelled back into reality. In my glance, I noticed the Moon’s light shyly hid. The clouds wrapped themselves around the Moon dimming its light. The darkness is panoramic. The darkness is omnipresent. I look down at the pool hoping to find some light. A part of me yearns for reality, but my stupor is comfortable. I wrestle with the desires within. The pool is dark and there is no reflection, not even of my eyes. A breeze enters through the window. Sound waves ride on the back of the breeze and seep into my heart.
“Son, every thought will influence—” I rush to take another pull, the last thing I need is a memory of my father.
“My son,” his voice is urgent and close. I can feel the humidity from his breath on my body. But, I tuned it out.
My thoughts are interrupted by the aroma of cinnamon and roses that permeates the room. Jazz is here. She stands behind me and comes close. Skin on skin. Her cool body causes me to shiver. She bites my ear and then licks it. My blood starts to flow, my heartbeat starts to speed up.
“I said come here, what’s taking you so long?” She playfully chuckled.
“I”—
“Shhhh,” she whispers softly. She grabs my hand and leads me back into the darkness. I follow—spellbound. The lit blunt faintly lights the way.
But the moral of the story is this. Habits grow day by day until, eventually, they rule you. Choose ye this day the habit ye would have to rule over you.“And the LORD God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from [this] tree, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.”
