Grateful on the Beach♥

My silly dog and I walk at the beach nearly every morning.

It's a unique group of people we see. It's 6:30 am and the hard-core surfers that range in age from 10 to 80, the young men, the unemployed, the businessmen catching a wave before going to work, the hippies; they are all here enjoying their passion. There's also the observers.  The remainders are the runners, the bikers, walkers, the lovers, the homeless and, lastly, the addicts. There's one gent that I've been watching for months. He's a nice-looking Hispanic guy, probably around 40, and looking way too healthy to be an addict. So I watch and I see what he's doing. He selling. He selling to kids, skaters, surfers, women an

d men. It doesn't matter, he's an equal opportunity supplier. I don't know whether to hate him or pity him. Mostly I think it's pity but I can't help but wonder; does he carry a little of everything? Do you approach him like a supermarket? Or does he specialize in one thing? Are his jacket pockets full of a little of this and a little of that?  Mostly I've been a stranger to this world, and wish I could have remained so completely. But that's not the case. I know what the meth does to your head; how it steals all your dopamine. I know you use the kitchen spoon, my kitchen spoon. And something to wrap around your arm tightly. How, suddenly, you have a lot of band aids around. I know that that you want sex and will sell your soul to get it after you inject this shit in your arm or neck or leg. That you will have sex with anything, even someone who looks like your 17 year old daughter. I know what my secret keeper did. He sold his soul, his family, me and our future, all to stick a needle in his arm. I wish I didn't know that shit, I wish I've could have remained naive.

I got those thoughts out of my head....it comes up once in a while. But now I am back to the important stuff like being grateful for my life and family and for the growth in my spirit through pain and struggle.

I am grateful.♥