This is a last for me. Last Christmas both my children live full-time at home, in the house they grew up in since they were 4 and 5 years old. Last Christmas (hopefully) as a single woman.
Since I’m well schooled in waiting for material possessions, one would think that waiting for personal time with Harry would be a cinch for me. He is something of value that I want. I have to wait sometimes days to see him and then for only an hour or two. His time is valuable and can only afford to give me a little because when he’s with me it means he’s getting behind with his insane and life-sucking business that we are both hoping gives him a good return for his investment in not only money but time.
Feminists will not like this post, but I don’t care. I lived for years as a proud woman who handled anything work threw at me and accepted (albeit begrudgingly my role as brain and decision maker for the family.) It was a burden. I didn’t want it and I didn’t like it. But I was strong willed and I knew what I was good at and was told what I was bad at so there it was. I was in an upside down marriage. I wore the pants.
I often say to Harry that I’m sorry he has to work so hard, or for so long and he usually says back to me, “I have an endgame.” He says he is motivated now because there is something he wants, he has a purpose.
I hate hope sometimes cause it makes me want something I don’t have and it seems unfair. But our conversations build up the hope cause we talk about how much we want to see each other and that feeds into the hope.
Our book jackets said one thing but our pages something else. And we looked long enough to notice the discrepancy. The people around us didn’t. They only read the words in bold print. “What are you doing with that book? What are you thinking?” They asked when we picked it up off the shelf. We tried pointing at the pages to explain, “But wait until you get to page 25!”
I grew up about a block away from the railroad tracks. On summer nights especially, I distinctly remember my window open welcoming the cool night air, and hearing the train […]
I’m the queen of testing. Someone tells me they love me? Really? For real. You think so? But what if I do this? or this or…that? I grew up in […]
I woke up to the news of tornadoes ripping through Branson and other parts of the Ozarks. I read the reports of walls being ripped off buildings, people being sucked […]
Every moment counts. Every decision does too. And they all fold into each other like ingredients for the best recipe to create the masterpiece called your life. At the end of this year of 2011.