One More Time For Evan

                                                   
My son, I'm tired of retrieving bits and pieces of your life in plastic bags.
This one from here, that one from there.
I stare at the smoky, black plastic and wonder what's inside this time.
I wonder where you were in your life, your thoughts, your addictions and indulgences when you were snatched up, only to leave your life in plastic bags again.

What would you be like without addiction, prison and halfway houses?

If you could have a bed, own a car, fall in love, keep a job, would you be happy?  
Could you be?

I retrieved another plastic bag of your belongings today.  
Somewhere, in its dark bowels, wrapped in the clothes you were wearing, are your phone and wallet.
Those two things you asked me to get and keep, are waiting for your next "fresh start". 
The bag now sits on the floor of the laundry room, claiming residential space, waiting for me to untie its plastic knot.

I will, but not today.
,