Leaving Rhode Island: The Pantry

I guess I hated leaving my mom worst of all

She, uh…she was in the pantry

On the floor of the pantry

When I finally had to…

I kept asking ‘Are you okay?  Are you okay?’

‘I gotta go.  I gotta go.’

She, uh…

She needed me

She used to keep piles of, um…

Damn, you know, we never talked about…

Cans

Canned food

Toilet paper

Paper towels

Books, a lot of books

You couldn’t even…

You couldn’t even walk in my living room

We had a guest room full of—like, ketchup

Stupid shit

She was a…sort of like a cross between

A Doomsday Prepper

And an all-out hoarder

My Dad left when I was six months old

She was already that bad by then

And I grew up…

…The pantry was her favorite place

A place designed for stockpiling

How could she not love it?

When I got the letter

And she knew that meant I had to move

I knew she was going to freak out

I was the only thing holding her back

From full-on psychosis

I really believe that, by the way

I’m not just saying it

She crawled into the pantry

And she wouldn’t leave

I tried getting her to come out

But she just kept rocking back and forth

Saying how could they do this?

How could this happen?

Anytime I’d go in there

She’d grab at me

Sometimes she’d scratch me—by accident

Just from trying to hold on, she…

I can’t say I wasn’t glad to leave

I can’t say there wasn’t a part of me that—

That, uh…

I wrote the letter

Myself, I…

My friend got one

And when I saw it

I had this idea

About how to get out

So I wrote the letter

And I left

I left her

I left her…sitting there…

It’s one of those things

Save yourself

Or let somebody else

Pull you down with them

She’s still in that house

My mother

And I’m here

Do I feel bad?

All the time

So you don’t really get out

Even when you do

Because a part of you stays

A part that’s connected to you

That never lets you forget

What you left behind