My best girl. MaryJane
I was 15, I was doing what any normal 15 year old does-snooping through all my parents stuff, hoping to find some christmas presents, little did I know I would find the best gift of all.
When I opened the hope chest at the foot of the bed I was sucker punched in the face like I was in a street fight . “ what the fuck is that nasty smell ?” I thought to myself , “ must be something dead, maybe a mouse…”
I moved a few blankets and books and I found a coffee can, I looked at it for a second , thinking “why would they have coffee in their room.” Then I opened the top, picture Pulp Fiction, and every scene where they open the brief case and just stare in wonder as a bright golden light shines through. I immediately knew what it was, even though I didn’t know for sure. I called my neighbor friend, he rushed over and said “do you know what all this is?!?” With the excitement of an early Christmas present in his voice, I’ll never forget exactly how he sounded at that second, almost 16 years later, still fresh in my foggy mind.
He told me to go drink a can of soda as fast as I could , I gave him the can, he poked holes in it, scrunched it, sprinkled some marijuana on the can and said “you go first”.
I remember the scent as it burned on the can, skunky yet sweet. I was stoned before I even exhaled, something that wouldn’t happen until almost 14 years later when i dabbed for the first time. I was intoxicated by the entire process,breaking it up, the smell, the heavy smoke.
We passed the can back and forth a few times, in my treehouse.
As soon as it was done, I mumbled “we should take the entire can, what are my parents going to do, ask if I stole their weed?”
That weekend I snuck back into that hope chest and took the entire contents of the coffee can , including the can. I went to my other friends house, he was older, and had an older sister who was always enticing his friends, I was convinced if I showed up with a can of marijuana , I’d be in for sure. We smoked for hours, joint after joint, I was taught how to roll that night, and it’s still my favorite way to consume cannabis. Something about doing it all with my own two hands, seeing the finished product, hen seeing it disappear tickles my fancy in just the right way, little did I know that this would become a lifestyle for me, little did I know years later I would legally need this as a medicine due to a life threatening illness.
After a few hours of us hanging out and smoking I said to my friends “I’m ready to go home, I don’t even feel high.” I remember the faces of my friends just staring back at me as they told me I looked way to stoned to be going home. We ordered pizza and spent the night. When I left the next day I gave what was left in the can to my friends, I didn’t want any evidence of the thievery that I commented against my parents. Days went by, weeks, months, now years and my parents still have never asked but it always is still on my mind to this day when I see them.
A few years ago my dad told me a story after I became open with my marijuana use, about how his friend from years before had grown weed in his garden and asked my dad to try some of his homegrown…..I still can’t help but think he was letting me know exactly what was up.