Y’all. I’m struggling. Well. Not currently. It’s the first day of my winter break. But yesterday. Straight struggling. And I can blame it on a lot of things. Marge’s hand surgery last month. One that required 24-hour care that littlest sister and I shared. For over a week. Or post-Thanksgiving shopping which lasted a good three days. Or a work conference the week after. Which meant a two-day work week. Two weeks in a row. Must be nice, you say. Um, no. This is not a exactly a good thing in my new position at work. Not one bit. I could blame it on birthday parties. Christmas parties. Overspending. Wrapping presents. UPS’s inability to deliver a package on time. Or my lack of sleep lately. But I won’t. The sad truth. My struggle. What’s really eating me alive. The Christmas tree, y’all. I can’t. Just cannot. The tree is my issue. There are lights on it. And they are not white. They are multi-colored.
I love dreaming. At night. In the morning. At my desk. In the shower. Driving down the road. While sitting on hold with insurance companies. I have no prejudice to topic. Or situations. Places. People. Or life. You could say I live in a perpetual state of dream. Fascination. Imagination. It’s true. I imagine what could be. Where could be. Who could be. How could be. And dreams are good. Amazing even. I live for them. Pray for them. Hope for them. They provide something to look forward to. Something to strive for. Something to realize. Something to leave you in wonder. I like being in wonder. Until the wonder is crushed. Or the dream becomes a stronghold. Until suddenly you cannot let go.
I lost a 37-year old pine tree in Irma. Yes. I counted her rings. Quite honestly. I was glad to see her go. I was tired of watching her slowly suffocate. From the potato vine that was creeping up her trunk. Her sap dripping on my patio furniture. She could have fallen a multitude of ways. Hit at least three homes in her wake. But she didn’t. God chose a different path for her. Fences. Two of them. One that revealed a neighbor’s backyard. One I’d never seen. People I’d never met. The hole in the fence revealed a new life. You’d think it would be awkward meeting your neighbors for the first time. Standing on a log. Just hours after Irma made her departure. But it wasn’t. It actually was perfectly normal. Wonderful even. I’m quite grateful for that tree. The one I was happy to see go. As for Irma. I’m grateful that’s all she took.
Y’all. I’ve been doing a lot of counting lately. Hours of sleep my girl might get. If she’ll sleep until 10. Which she never does. Even though she’s stayed up way past her bedtime. And mine. Again. I’ve also been counting how many episodes I have left in my show. Chapters I have left in my book. The next five books I want to read. And shows I want to watch. How many insurance appeals I have to write. Pills I have to take. Purses I have to list on eBay. Because Marge and I have now have a market on eBay. And she has a lot of purses. And shoes. I’ve also been counting down the days until Oscar gets 15 more minutes of freedom. Because really. He’s the one who needs the break. Let’s just be honest. And then suddenly. Without even realizing it. I’ve started to panic. Because this week. In just a few days. I’m down to 19 hours closed. And holy shit. Have I even been listening at all? Shouldn’t I be wiser. Or stronger. Or less panicky. Or more like Jesus. Or something. This played out so differently in my head five months ago. Shouldn’t I be enlightened by now. But then I remember. This whole thing. This whole jacked up jaw mess. It all started because I was trying to be something more. Someone I wasn’t. Trying to be like the girl I envied in middle school. Trying to be anyone but me.
Y’all. I made a new friend. Oscar. It’s one of those friends I really didn’t want to befriend. Not at all. You know the ones. Maybe there’s something you just don’t vibe with. Or something you see in them. That maybe you also see in yourself. A part of yourself you don’t exactly like. Or the one that forces you to get uncomfortable. Feel uneasy even. But then you realize. There’s something good there. Something special. Maybe you do need to get a little uncomfortable. After all. Maybe you can learn something from them. Maybe even about yourself. So you accept the person. And suddenly. Your new friend. The one you were pushing away. Has now become your closest friend. That’s how it was with Oscar. My new friend. And guess what. He’s my mouth splint. Continue reading “My Friend Oscar”
I’ll be 40 in four months. And currently. At 39. I live with my mom. I have a home. A beautiful one. One with a mortgage. An electric bill. A water bill. And I still pay them. On time. In it are all my favorite things. My old fans. And vintage cameras. Rusty things. National Geographics. And my bed. My seven-year old daughter is here with me, too. We sleep in a full size bed together. Even though there is a queen down the hall. And a king at our own home. I like being close to her at night. Her body is so warm. And we hold hands while she falls asleep. Sometimes she even wakes me in the wee hours. Asking for my hand. And I love it. I’m almost 40. My daughter and I live with my mom. And to be brutally honest. I don’t want to leave. Continue reading “Forty”
This whole thing about the girl who listens. That girl. The one whom this blog was based. The one who currently has her mouth banded shut. For 22 hours a day. That girl. She’s a fraud. A fake. A lie. Because in the words of her mama, “she has not shut her flapping mouth.” Not since she was in the recovery room. Not since she was rolled into her hospital room. Not since she was wired for five days. Not once. And you know what. That girl is me. Continue reading ” The Pinch”