I’m often asked how I got so deep into the medical marijuana scene. I ran across a news article written about my mother in 1998, I was four at the time, she was a mere 22. My mother has a rare autoimmune disorder, where her body eats the cartilage, eventually fusing all of her bones together. She was told she’d be paralyzed by the time she was 18, and dead before she hit thirty. She was never supposed to have children, by twenty she had me. My mother reports using marijuana for pain management in medical records dating back as early as 1996. My mother now walks with one cane, she smokes marijuana on a daily basis, and she is not only alive- but she’s living. Marijuana gave me two decades of my mother, two decades of direction, two decades of love. I’ll be damned if a lawmaker or a judge or a jury gets in the way of that.
Come up behind me while I’m making dinner.
Wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me about your dream.
Tell me if I cook something gross so I never make it again.
Laugh with me when I mess up my words.
Know that my bobby pins are everywhere, all the time. I’m sorry.
Stay in your underwear with me all day on a Saturday once in a while.