One day you haven’t had your period for 4 months and the next day you get a pap and it triggers a period and you have a migraine while the city of Los Angeles is snowing and sunny and windy.
That next day you decide to start over. You drive past your girlfriend’s new apartment on the way to drop your daughter off at school. That day you change the cat litter and wash dishes.
Then your daughter calls from school:
”It was too soon too come back after ten days of Covid. I’m too weak.”
”Babe, I literally just dropped you off.”
“I’ve done two periods. Please, just be the GOAT.”
So you have a sip of your coffee, text Orlando and drive to your daughter’s school, past your girlfriend’s new apartment to the Middle School where the LAPD are pulling up at the exact same time. And you feel a certain way but you ignore it and you sign your daughter out of school. But you can’t ignore it and suddenly you are in the present and not as happy as you were before this moment.
”Oh,” she says, and you look at her wearing the olive green fleece your son gave you for Christmas, “The Popo are here because some girls did acid and three of them started tweaking because they’d never done acid. What do you think of that.”
I get into my side of the car, as my daughter gets into the passenger side.
”I think,” I put my seatbelt on and look at the LAPD jeep. “I think it sounds like some kids didn’t understand what drugs are and did them at the wrong age, the wrong place and the wrong time.”
So now I’ll return to my YA book. Where the girls are currently doing “bad things” and my life around me will continue with girls doings “bad things.”
And I’ll write about them all here. Every day if you’d like me to.
Yes. Please write every day
I love how everyone is reminiscing about the 90s because of acid and high school. I was about to say the 90s really are making a come back.