That Joyous Medication Ritual…

“Let’s sit outside on the porch and listen to the thunder,” dad said excitedly a moment ago. “I do hope we get some rain.  I am tired of watering the lawn everyday.  It is costing me a fortune in water bills.”

Dad placed two folding chairs on the porch and sat down beckoning for me to join him.  He was smiling – looking content.  I love it when he is like this.  I shouldn’t let others dictate my moods, but dad’s peacefulness and contentment was contagious.  I don’t think he realizes what a strong effect he can have on me.

“Oh, how I love a day off,” he said as he turned to me and smiled all the ever more. “I am getting too old to work all the time. I think I will retire soon and sell the store.  I don’t think I would ever get bored retired.  I would love it.  There is always something around the house or yard that needs doing.”

Dad and I are both weather obsessed and listened intently at the thunder in the distance.  I am glad dad and I have something in common for which we love as it always gives us something to talk about when the weather is active.  Sometimes, I can feel awkward around my father when the weather is mild.  We have little to discuss.  I am just socially inept.  You would think a father and son would always have something to talk about.

I took my medications and put my extra Klonopin in my pocket.  Dad handed me a diet Coke to wash them down.  He was drinking a glass of iced sweet tea wrapped in paper towel to absorb the sweat from the humidity.  I was excited to get my medications so early as it would make for a pleasant rest of the day.  I hate waiting until ten every night for them. 

“How is my royalty today?” dad asked smiling vigorously.

“Don’t call me that,” I replied good heartedly aggravated.

I always feel dad is mocking my social anxieties when he does this. 

“Well, are you receiving?  Are you having guests?”

“Nobody comes to see me,” I replied. “I am a social pariah.”

“You and your mother are royalty,” dad said chuckling loving this moment of good hearted jest.  “Your mother is not receiving today either.  She is in the bed.”

“Mom is always in the bed,” I replied scoffing, but it was the truth.  Her Zyprexa keeps her sleepy and complacent. 

It began to lightning vibrantly and dangerously chasing us off the porch.  A good storm was blowing up.  Dad escaped to the inside always scared of dangerous weather and I hurried home to get inside before the storm hit.  Now, it is raining softly and the thunder and lightning have subsided.  It is nice.  This is turning out to be a grand day.