Charlie’s Dead

       Charlie is dead. I am reminded of this every morning when I get my keys off the hook to go to work. His ashes sit on a shelf that is to the right of the key hook. Charlie died after we moved into the new house. He sits in his little dark-stained box. Milli Vanilli plays as I type this. “Girl You Know It’s True”. I guess that since it’s politically correct these days to identify as another gender, maybe Charlie is speaking to me from that box.

       A lot has changed since we left the apartment. We only lived there a short while, but it seemed like an eternity. We bitched and complained the whole time. The “Pee Pad Porch”, the “After Melrose Pool”, the “Combination Rooms”, the shitty refrigerator (sorry for the expletive, there’s no better way to describe it), the cramped space, etc. The dogs literally shit and pissed on everything. If I could write an advertisement for that place, it would have read “Three Bedrooms, thin walls, and total Hell”. It was a nightmare... So we thought.

       Fast-forward seven months. We are in our dream house, our forever home. We are now permanent residents of “Over Yonder”. I’ll admit life is good. But, I now realize that it has always been good. It was good when I played with my Star Wars action figures in the dirt with my brother. It was good when I dressed like Evel Knievel and ramped my Big Wheel over the ditch as a kid. It was good when I married my wife. It was good when my kids were born... And yes it was good when the dogs shit all over that apartment. It was even good when I smoked a $20 cigar on the piss-scented back porch of that apartment. 

       I listen to the same music on my new porch that I did on that old porch. I smoke the same cigars. I love my wife and kids just as much then as I do now. We don’t love any stronger with the new address. The cigars don’t taste any better. The pillows aren’t any softer. OK, the dog urine smell isn’t here and the fridge is bigger. The walls are thicker. The AC works everyday and I have don’t have to pray for a parking spot near the door. 

       Life is not about choices. It’s about living in the moment. Life’s about making the most of it as it happens. We made “some” of the moment in that apartment, but we didn’t make the “most” of it. Some of you read my blogs while we were there. You know what I am talking about. We were spoiled. We realize that now. The porch is bigger now, but I don’t appreciate the cigars as much. The pool... Damn it, the pool. We have a pool in the new neighborhood. No loud music is allowed. I can’t be DJ Bubba here. It’s a pretentious pool filled with unappreciative assholes. I miss my “After Melrose” crowd. I miss the people. I miss their problems. I miss their nonsense. I miss their problems. I miss their grilled Mac-N-Cheese. I miss taking the trash to dumpster and almost getting killed by an asshole in Dodge Dakota. But, most of all, I miss Charlie and his uncontrollable bowel movements. 

       As we settle in, we are thankful. We are thankful that we have our dream house. We are thankful that we survived a year of trials. We are thankful that we discovered that a home is not defined by bricks and shingles, but by the love that resides under the roof. I am thankful that I am turning into my dad. I am also thankful that my wife’s precious dog Charlie sits in his box on a shelf and reminds me as I grab my keys that he’s watching. He watches and wishes that he could pee on my porch just one more time “Over Yonder”. I wish he could too.