Last Train, Old Reel

Lyrics

Dear Damien, Seems like I ain’t talked to you in a long time. Matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve really talked to you since around your third or fourth birthday. I think what happened was your mom changed your cake from that clown cake to a Cookie Monster cake. And even though you loved Cookie Monster, you really loved that clown cake. Funny what a little boy remembers. Anyway, I know I been gone a long time, and I know I wasn’t there to celebrate your day the way I should have been. Truth is, it seems like every year was a hard year for you in one way or another. And I want to talk to you about that. I want to talk to you about all those birthdays, all those little pieces of you, and all the things you carried that nobody ever really stopped to help you hold. Remember when you got mad at your cousins because they wouldn’t let you sleep in the bed with the Star Wars blankets, and you thought it was okay to throw matches on the bed? You were going through it even back then. At least now you know that wasn’t okay, but I also know there was something deeper there. Even then, you were hurting, confused, trying to make sense of things the only way a little boy knew how. Then there was the time after your dad left, when the world became curious to you in a whole new way. You were living at Cambria Circle, and one day it was snowing and you and your friend decided you were gonna go watch the school. There was a fence, there was snow, there was trouble waiting to happen, and there you were, curious and adventurous as ever. That was the year when everything felt like an adventure to you. You got into so much trouble, but that’s okay too, Damien. It is okay to be curious. It is okay to want to know things. That little boy in you was trying to survive by turning life into something he could explore instead of something that could hurt him. Then there was the birthday when you all moved out of Cambria Circle into that new house. It felt exciting. Boxes everywhere. A whole new place. You were still adventurous, still turning everything into fun. You made a maze out of those moving boxes and turned them into your own little fort with a blanket over the top. It was yours. It felt safe. It felt like something you made for yourself. But that first night in that house, that man kept calling the phone over and over, and your mom got scared. She called Aunt Kathy, and before you knew it, you were in Uncle Paul’s car on the way to Aunt Kathy’s house, sleeping on the floor that night. That was also when you fell in love with your cousin Detra. She was one of the best parts of that time. But I need you to know something, Damien: it was okay to be scared. There was nothing wrong with you for being scared. Not then. Not ever. A year later, around your birthday, you found yourself leaving your cousins and everything you knew. You remember being at the Trailways bus station. Your cousin and T.J. gave your brother that Miss Piggy puppet she carried everywhere, and your brother loved it. You hugged your cousins goodbye. You were so sad. But at the same time, you were ready, because you were going to see your daddy. You missed him so much. On that bus ride, you saw all kinds of things out the window. The road in the distance looked blurry, like the world was fading into something you couldn’t understand yet. You found out the letter Y was sometimes a vowel and thought that was the coolest thing ever, even though it made no sense. But none of that mattered because you were on your way to see your dad. Then you got to California. Your mother told you to stay close, not to leave her side, but you made up your mind that you were gonna be the first one to see your daddy. Because he was your daddy, and you loved him that much. So you walked off at the Embarcadero Transit Center. You didn’t know the name of that place back then, but I’m telling you now. You saw your dad leaning against one of those metal posts, wearing that little French hat like Picasso would wear painting masterpieces. You ran to him. You held him. You were so happy. And it still hurts me to think about the first thing you asked him: “Are you gonna beat me anymore?” And he said, “Only if you do something wrong.” So you thought to yourself, okay, then I just won’t do anything wrong, and everything’s gonna be perfect. And then you heard your mom yelling your name, and you thought you were in trouble and that he was gonna beat you. But he didn’t that time. That time, you were safe. And then there was that Golden Gate Bridge. You had heard “golden” your whole life and imagined something shiny and bright, and when you saw it, it was orange. Orange. You couldn’t believe it. You were disappointed. But let me tell you this, Damien: it was okay to be disappointed too. That year, you were in second grade. Your daddy took you on a walk to show you how to walk to school by yourself. You felt so proud. You felt trusted. And even then, you were already looking for faster ways,