To the Truck Driver up my Arse

October 11, 2015

Dear truck driver,

My name is Constance, that’s me in front of you in the dirty dented black Captiva. Taking my time.

I’m driving down the freeway with my four kids in the car, Rumi and Snow are nearly 1, Billie-Violet 6 and Arlo Love is 4. I don’t know why or how I ended up with 4 kids, it was never my intention to have 4 of them, who the fuck wants 4 of them. I’m only 32, all I really wanted was a bottle of wine and a hot boyfriend. But you see truck driver, what we want and what we get are 2 very different things. Something, somewhere saw me as a fit tour guide for these 4 children, despite not having a stable relationship, despite not having much money, they were entrusted to me. These children are 4 of the great innocents, 4 little divine light keepers, 4 of the greatest and realest teachers I have ever come across. These 4 children are sacred. I’m taking these sun warriors on a trip, I take them away at ever opportunity I get, sometimes camping, sometimes we stay with friends and sometimes we fly somewhere really far away, I owe it to them, to keep them in nature, to keep them connected. They like salt water in their hair and sand between their toes and so we find it. In my car Truck driver, my daughter is crying because my son wiped snot on her leg, my son just threw a half eaten Apple at my head, one of my babies is screaming her head off and the other is fast asleep. Still I take my time. When I fell pregnant with the twins I thought my life was over, my marriage was breaking down, I had no energy, I was an artist that had no time to paint, I felt like a fat unlovable pig. I was doomed, never to be loved again. Life had royally fucked me in the arse and I hate anal truck driver, I really do. But then something magic happened, they arrived and I was so filled up from bottom to top with sparky golden love, for them, for myself and for my other children that I knew I had one job, to keep these 4 shiney ones safe, to keep us together like the little wolf pack we are. That’s where you come in Truck driver, you have a job to do too, and your just trying to do it, get your load from A to B. But your not really taking your time are you, your having a little panic attack about being stuck behind me aren’t you? doing 100 in a 100 zone? Maybe you have a family of little glory ones waiting for their dads at home, or maybe your in a meth fuelled rage and you just can’t slow down. But right now, I don’t really give a flying fuck where you need to be or when you need to be there, because your driving so far up my arse that I feel like I need to repeat how I feel about anal. Remember the part where I don’t like it? Your truck may be huge and powerful and ridiculously fast, but do you really think that I would risk all this, all that had been gifted to me, all that I was blessed with because your intimidating me? No truck driver, Your not scaring me, I have turned up the gay lord music my daughter has made me put on and I am literally pretending you are dead. You can just wait Truck Driver, take a deep breath, appreciated the fact that this is our first and last encounter, your family and beautiful kids or crack pipe and evil little baggie won’t disappear because I held you back for three minutes while day dreaming about the blog I’m going to write you that you’ll definitely never read.. Kind regards Constance

Constance Hall

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Constance Hall

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