My Big, Bad Trip to New York

 Do I need a comma between big and bad? I am unsure. I remember my writing classes and my trusted Chicago Manual of Style, but I was always so annoyed with the nitpicking of the rules. It was one of the reasons I couldn't mesh well with the English students. Like, I mean, I wanna do it correctly, however, I don't want to HAVE to do it correctly, you know? I want to just do it effortlessly.

    My trip is over now and it's time to process (which I do through writing and preferably sharing with others-it's my thang!). Let's break it down.

    Friday

    I woke up in the morning feeling like-no wait-nevermind. I felt tired. It was about 2:00 a.m. when my alarm went off. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, had a quick cup of less than stellar coffee, and then at 2:30 or so left to get Taryn. I awoke Liam to come down and lock the door and left the key for them to lock up later.  We went to the airport. As it turned out, the gates to the gates don't even open until four a.m. so we definitely could have slept another hour. We flew to Dallas/Ft. Worth and then on to LaGuardia. Initially, I had considered using Ubers to ride to and from the airport, but that's a lot of money, so I decided just to park in long-term parking in Springfield, and then take public transportation to Manhattan. It was fine. We got on an M70 bus which was free from LaGuardia to get to the subway station and then got on the train google maps told us to get on. It was going in the wrong direction, so we had to ride to the end where it turned around, but that was fine. So we left Queens and went into Manhattan. Really with a smart phone nothing is hard anymore. We walked around a bit, until it was check in time for the hotel. The hotel room was small, but good. Very clean. The worst part was the coffee maker didn't work, which made mornings a wee bit foggier than normal, and there wasnt't an iron. I am sure they could have gotten me an iron to use, if needed, but I decided a few wrinkles didn't matter.  

    Romeo and Juliet

    After that we relaxed until it was time to go to the show. The show wasn't far (is anything?), but we wanted to leave by 6. I had heard the actors came about about 15 or 20 minutes before the show and you could take pics/videos then. We headed out and it was so crowded. We stayed in Times Square area and I felt like we were in the center of the world. Everyone was relaxed, probably mostly tourists, and the atmosphere was happy and fun and ALIVE. We got to the theatre a little before 6:30. After going in, we went downstairs into a basement lobby where people were hanging out and there was a table set up encouraging the youth vote. I bought an adult beverage-the Capulet-which was crazy expensive at $38 dollars and tasted like tropical punch with some vodka or something thrown in. It was like something you'd get a college party in a well, basement. But hey, I got a plastic souvenir cup, so there is that!

    Then we headed to our seats. Our seats were really fantastic. We were in the front row, although the theatre was intimate enough that any seat would have been fine. There was some floor seating around the corners, but I was happy where we were. So this is where the evening got a little bumpy. I took a couple pics of the supporting characters as they came out, as did many other people. The instagram rumor was that it was okay before the show started. Obviously I was waiting on the main stars to come out to snap some pics. I wanted Kit Conner in my own phone, damn it! I would take some of Rachel, too, to avoid being creepy of course, gotta hide the crush at my age, but still. Anyhoo, some lady walked directly up to me and told me no pictures and videos. Okay, that's fine. I had only taken two pictures anyway. Now was I disappointed I wouldn't be capturing Kit in my own phone? Absolutely. Was I, as a teacher, going to take a pic anyway, No way. I am one of those people who do not get away with things. So I nodded and said, " Oh, okay." Unfortunately, my phone was upright in my lap and my camera was on, and I was embarrassed and fumbly and didn't notice.  She immediately cracked down on that, and said she knew I was planning to wait for her to leave to film more and it would be very bad she had to ask me to leave. I was mortified. I might have done that when I was 10, I would NEVER have done that now.

    So here I am, trying to look agreeable and cool, feeling all the eyes on me, and just not really happy. I planted a contented smile on my lips trying to look cool, and put my phone in my purse. Then over the next 15 minutes watched a dozen other people taking photos and selfies and noone saying anything to them. Like really, did she just not like my face or something? To get over the embarrassment because I was determined to enjoy myself, I started sipping my adult beverage more quickly. This was my downfall however. about 45 minutes into the show, I HAD to pee, so badly. And it was in the middle of the balcony scene. I waited until Kit slipped away momentarily, because I figured that would interrupt the scene the least, and went to the bathroom (which was down another long flight to a second basement). Of course,  then I and several other small-bladdered females had to wait in the lobby until intermission. I left right before the iconic pull-up kiss, too. I had already seen it a dozen times on instagram, but still.

    

But I survived. I really loved the supporting characters; a couple were quite fantastic. Rachel is cute as a button and brave, and Kit is very fine looking, although his youth was very apparent, I totally felt like a creeper, and just seeing his young face helped quell the crush. I was determined not to be star-struck like I was I went to see Counting Crows and was too embarrassed to look at Adam Duwitz, and I didn't want to be a creeper and just stare at Kit like I desired. So I made a decision to only look at the person talking. I know, I know, I have issues. Almost everyone is there to see Kit or Rachel, so it doesn't matter. But alas, I do hide my feelings quite often, and I was determined to do so now as well. The unfortunate side effect is I remember almost nothing about Kit from the play. I don't remember facial expressions or anything. I gazed so easily upon the others but I just didn't glance at his handsome face enough. Oh well. My impression of the play was that it was fine. Nothing stood out too much, but I was not moved to tears and as someone who cries easily during movies and plays, that was odd. Perhaps if I had seen Mercutio slain I would have felt more, but I was in the lobby awaiting intermission at that time. We didn't stick around for autographs because why? After that we headed back toward the hotel. It was so nice just to be out in the world with the sea of people around us.

Was New York dirtier than I remembered? Absolutely. As we walked we were met with intermittent odors of garbage and sulfur, weed and delicious food smells. All of these could be within 20 feet of each other and it was absolutely wonderful. Were there homeless? Yes, but Springfield has homeless, too, so that wasn't anything new.

    Saturday

    We awoke on Saturday morning which is when I discovered my coffee maker was not working. We had tickets for the American Museum of Natural History, which for some reason I thought was at nine, but it turned out to be ten a.m. We took a subway ride closer to Central park (only $2.90 to ride the subway), and then got out, found the park. At some point, I realized my mistake with the time we were going, so we decided to walk around a little more. Central Park was in the midst of autumn glory and a marathon was ending around the edge of the park, so the blue-skied crisp morning was greeted with occasional cheers as someone passed the finish line. The skyline against the park horizon was absolutely lovely. We have all seen Central Park as depicted in movies and this did not disappoint. Everything felt so familiar and comfortable. I could almost swear I saw Ansel Elgort in the park, but obviously I pretended not to notice. There were a few more people who looked like I had seen them before, but they weren't big enough that their names jump out to me, over the course of the weekend. 

    

    The museum was lovely, but that was more for Taryn. My interests are pretty solidly around space and earth science. Taryn was especially interested in the minerals and gemstones so we spent time looking at the shinies. I am probably more of an art museum person. I want to contemplate the person who created the thing and wonder about their motivations. Following the museum we headed back to the hotel to put our bags down and rest a bit. Taryn got some very spicy falafel over rice from a street vender and I am on generic Ozempic, so I don't get very hungry. I did slowly nurse a turkey wrap over the course of the day. We hopped a subway to head to the Harry Potter store further downtown, realized we were going the wrong way and fixed that and got to the store. It was so fun. The Harry Potter store was done SO well. I wish I had been able to save more money so I could have had the full experience, but just being there was a lot of fun. After the store, we stopped at le pain quotidien for a cup of coffee and then wandered around 5th avenue looking at touristy gift shops until our reservation time for the Empire State Building. It was so interesting to look at the 5th avenue apartments from the outside and then google their rent costs. They were outrageous of course. Some people were stepping out into private cars waiting for them and just looked like money was oozing out of their pores. Of course, tourists and students were everywhere. 

    The Empire State Building was well done. It was sleek and elegant and everyone was cheerful and excited to be there. I was exceptionally happy we went at night. The lights of the city stretched out 360 degrees away from us promising excitement and life whichever way we turned. And yet, when I stepped out on the balcony, the brisk cold wind made me feel as if I had been transferred into some other, surreal place. Inky black beauty bejeweled with lights of ruby and topaz lay all around us, and the city sirens, the constant city sirens, were faint and otherworldly. It was truly lovely. 

    After that we decided to walk back to the hotel to drop off our things and freshen up. Then Taryn had reservations at La Masseria where she treated me to a wonderful Italian dinner. The atmosphere was festive, the languages were intermingled and the Italians were looking very Italian. Even the Cabernet was superb, not a twinge of sour or too sweet, just mellow, warm red goodness.

 

       Sunday

      Although we had to awake at 5, the clocks fell back so we got a good seven hours of sleep or so. We popped up, tucked everything into our backpacks, and headed for the subway. I really love the subway system. It is easy and convenient and you can go wherever it will take you for only $2.90 a trip. I wish we had such amazing public transportation around here.  We went into Queens and then promptly missed our bus to the airport as we tried to get our bearings after we emerged from the subway tunnel. Thankfully, we had chatted with some young women who also were on the way to the airport as they looked for bus stop, too. The temperature was in the 30's and they decided to just call a Lyft and allowed us to share it with them. And that was that!

We walked over 5 miles on both Friday and Saturday and let me tell you the muscles in my hips are screaming. I wish I always had opportunities like that (walking with a purpose in a city that kept pedestrians in mind). 

    I am so grateful for my amazing family who helped with my boys and for the opportunity to go. Will I be paying for years for this trip? Maybe, but life is short and experiences are what it is all about.

    

Static

   

Photo by Ben Karpinski on Unsplash

 We strive to be that dynamic, exciting personality who exhibits growth and radiance. We believe we have a purpose and importance. We believe we were put here to DO BIG THINGS. Because all around us this is what the world is telling us. It's a sign on the wall, a scribble from a colleague.

    And then one day, we wake up, nearing the half-century mark, having accomplished little and feeling a bit foolish singing the praises of the palty small accomplishments we have made.  And WHAT exactly distinguishes what IS an accomplishment? Is it business success? A good-looking partner? Money, or a beautiful home? Is it a generous heart that others can rely on? Is it a novel, published? When your words spill reverently out of another's lips?

    Guys, I am going to be 50. It's a word too old to imagine. Too steady and Karenish for this faltering timid soul stumbling around in this body. I feel like I am just beginning to open my eyes and already my life is more than halfway over. Maybe 2/3 over. And I am just learning so much now. And so very disappointed by the lessons.

    It doesn't really seem fair. I used to think the world was wide open. Anyone could do and become anything. I don't anymore. Some people truly have a leg up. Sometimes it is financially. Some people were blessed with beautiful faces. Some have inviting personalities and have been taught or gifted with emotional self-control. 

    I am lucky in many ways. But in many others, I was far behind the starting line. And  I am coming to understand that maybe don't change as much as we thought we could. Maybe our core nature IS static. I will always fight being jealous, petty, insecure. It's so gross. I may never see when someone is using me for their own entertainment-or rather- I do see, but I don't believe it- until after the fact. I may always be naively forgiving of those who maybe don't deserve it. I will NEVER master my surging hormones which leave me reeling periodically. In this case, nature will lose. Just a little more time. 

    I think I  may always be socially insecure. I can use the positive self-talk and see that someone isn't better than me rationally, but the fear of eventual rejection, the fear of my own imperfections, is unshakable. To this day, I reel with shame when I post something and noone responds or likes it. I realize either my thinking is remarkably banal or just so out there and personal, I should be sharing with a therapist rather than with you. 

    Maybe the lesson isn't to learn to overcome the imperfections, but to learn to accept the limitations with grace. 

    Maybe there is beauty in accepting one's own nature, learning to tame the beast, whilst always acknowledging the hungry survivalist waiting beneath the surface. Maybe the lessons become too ingrained, too imprinted on our soul. 

    And so I wonder where to go from here. Where to take this next 25 years. I watch myself fade. I let go of once-dreams one-by-one and wonder what is left when all the built up hopes and dreams and fears  drift away. How deeply can I mesh with the soul of who I truly am and stop looking for the soul of who I hope to be?

In the Face of Change

Photo by Rory Hennessey on Unsplash

 I stand on the edge of a cliff-the Cliffs of Moher lie before me-but this time, swirling gray fogs clogs the  foreground. It's just grayness and cliffs beyond unseen.

Truthfully, I am a bit apprehensive about next year. I am leaving my current workplace for another. I feel as if I have been an utter failure at my own job. While students tell me they will miss me, students are fickle, and next year will warm up to their new teacher by telling them how much better they are than me. And that is right. They need to move forward.

All I know is that every adult I know that I am not related to will soon be absent from my life. And that is a scary feeling. It is one thing to change jobs when you have a partner, it is quite another to change when your evenings are already spent alone. Now I will lose the only people I ever talk to. Of course, there will be other people, and hopefully among them a warm spirit or two. 

My coffee turned out exceptionally weak today, and that is after I pushed the "strong brew" button. I wonder if this has a deeper meaning. Perhaps it is a sign of my weak, faltering spirit. I kid. Sort of. The truth is, I feel very fragile right now, and I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, and there is nothing to do but move forward.

BUT! In the face of change there is the one realization that is always helpful. WE get to choose what we dwell on. We get to choose what we think about. And I simply have to choose not to dwell on my feelings. There is a certain comfort in picking apart my feelings and understanding them, but there is also a destructive element of painful despair when helplessness against fears overwhelm. I can choose to keep pushing forward and turn my back to the clouds. I can choose to search for the sun.

And so I will.

Being without a partner makes me long for a partner. I don't understand it. For the most part I love having my own bed and my own room. I love making my own plans and having no adult to question me if we have a cake for dinner. And yet, this yearning to connect, to feel loved, to make someone smile is always present. Is it just social conditioning? Or is there more to it? It is just a hard world and having someone to share the burden, to tell me the sweet things one needs to hear at the end of a long day, to cook with me, and strive towards healthier living together, to make plans with... those are good things. But then...they are there. They notice when you skip doing dishes, when ice cream give you clear-the-room gas, when you just want to sit down and enjoy a bowl of brownie batter. With people comes judgement and having to be a little bit better than you are. 

The future is uncertain, and I don't know if I will ever be loved, but there is not shame in the hope, right? So why does it feel shameful to admit? Curious. 

I had intended this blog, A Mighty Queen, to be about striving to become better and achieve more, and I feel as if I am letting my readers down. I ordered a book on life planning and life goals and it is SO hard for me to fill out. Because what I want is a good life, with lots of travel, a beautiful romance, and a lot of quiet time to relax at home on rainy days. How do you break that down into serious goals?

I guess step-by-step. I can plan a trip. Maybe not this year, but in two years, (if I don't do anything dumb) my credit cards will be paid off and I will have more money to play with. 

I could make myself more attractive, which in our society means thinner,  which sadly means less brownie batter. In truth, I always wanted a physically active life. I just don't know how to do it with kids. Even hiking about kills Gabriel who is afraid of heights and thus has built hiking into this huge fear of standing on a mountaintop (he literally is afraid of Colorado). But the kids are getting older, and soon, I will be able to leave them for longer and longer and do my own thing. 

So, maybe the answer is to accept the fog. To let it swirl around me, mysterious and opaque, because in truth, the unexpected was exactly what I wanted. I didn't want my future to be one place with the same title and same building and same people. I wanted something different. I neeed to remain cognizant of that and step-by-step, I need to light my own candle. I need to make a short-term plan and a long-term plan to focus my attention on. I need to let go of the sadness of my failures (noone is really going to miss me) and examine what I can do differently (focus less on my feelings and more on theirs, maybe? I don't know, you tell me, what am I doing wrong?), and take that forward with me. I need to accept the disappointments (and there have been many) and use them as the driving force for change. 

Foggy mornings have always been my favorite. I will remember that, as I step forward. And if I fall, the crashing sea of life is an amazing place to land. 

Change-Facing the Realities of Life with Dignity

 Change is inevitable. As soon as everything has a place and the weather is fair, it seems as if we are blown off course. Sometimes this is of our own doing, but often it is imposed on us from without. Maintaining grace and dignity during times of unwanted change can be difficult. There is that book, Who Moved My Cheese?, which highlights how one might approach unwanted change. You can rant and rail or you can accept. 

We all have different tolerance levels for change. Some people want things to remain the same, whereas others enjoy self-initiated change. Then there are those individuals who believe they have a vision and want to make change happen. I am a mix of the first two. I don't need to really be a mover and shaker. I don't enjoy making decisions,  or telling others what to do (and thus forcing change upon them), but I am not too fond of having to live out others' idea of the way things should be. I just want to do my thing.

The hardest thing about my current job is the change from year to year. Although it has remained fairly stable  (once I got out of most of those coteaching classes by being the WORST coteacher ever - in all fairness, I had no idea how to coteach and assumed the teacher didn't want me there any more than I wanted to be there. I realize now, I missed out on the opportunity for some good companionship), there is always the chance that someone else will talk their way into my classes or I will get stuck in a random coteaching class with someone I am not interested in getting to know. It stresses me out EVERY SINGLE spring, wondering what the next year will look like, because I really care about how my day shapes up. Whereas I played with the idea of being someone who can make that choice, it was really just play. There are just so many details I don't care about, don't want to care about, and thoughts I would rather allocate my brain cells to than caring about things I really don't think make a difference. We all want our lives to matter, and I would hate pretending to care just for prestige and more control of my day. I want my life to matter, and chasing someone else's dream is not the key to that (I do tend to get very excited about other people's dreams and try them on for awhile). 

So I have a new job coming up next year. I would like to say that this was a conscious choice, but it has really been about running away from discomfort of the forced changes. I would rather CHOOSE to change than have it forced upon me. This is just the first year I have been hired. And part of me is like, what are you doing girl? You like what you do. I like my classes, I enjoy the shallow work acquaintances and Howdy Hos! in the hall. I like starting early and my day ending soon. I like the respect one gets a teacher at a high school as compared to lower levels.  But...the way everything fell into place-the feeling in my gut that this job was mine- this is a sign, I believe. Oh the strong, resolute thinkers will say there are no signs. You just go out and get what you want. But...they are wrong, naturally. When things fall into place with little effort, pushing and planning-that is a sign. 

But I am scared. I am not sure what I am going into. I am not sure what my day will look like. I am not sure how much time I will be coteaching, as I didn't even think to ask. I don't know who my co-teachers will be or how the administration will behave. I am searching for buddies and after-work friends, and going into a smaller a pool-a pool where many young teachers start as they wait for that high school job) may not be the key to finding friends. 

Goal Setting: Why it Doesn't Work for Me

 

Photo by Melissa Askew on Unsplash

Becoming a Person of Goals

For the past several years, I have been pushing myself towards becoming a person of goals. A person with a to-do list done, checked boxes and self-horn tooting included. I have been reading books on being more successful and more corporate (as a woman somehow you have to magically balance warmth with seriousness-good luck), how to check progress and get ever closer to being a successful person. However, I always find myself slipping up, falling back, gaining and losing the same 15 pounds. I get bored behaving at work, and just want to let my silly side show. I have personal issues which continue to interfere with my relationships with others (Queen of throwing people off track by not letting them know what I really think? Check!). And I just find myself wondering-am I trying to fit myself into the Western mode of being a workaholic drone without really considering what it is I want out of life?

Long ago--perhaps in my late teens or early 20s, I decided it was just enough to BE. I just wanted to exist, enjoy my kids, revel in the early dawn hours, and live the simple life. Circumstances however, later dictated that I must GO OUT AND EARN A LIVING, and that has really thrown off all that I ever tried to be. Somehow I had to balance being a mature grown up with my desire to go lie on my bed and fantasize about a favorite fictional character. I had to try and convince people I was worthy and intelligent, when my way of relating to people outside the home is through silliness and trying to make them laugh. Perhaps we all want that. I have no desire to tell others what do or control them. However, I sure as heck don't want them telling me what to do. Isn't shared space enough? Anyway, I have come to the realization that maybe I am dumb. Not school dumb. I am an underachiever in school, but I have taken enough college courses to at least know how  stack up with other people at the distinguished "elite" Missouri State University.;oP. I have learned to accept that my ideas are as good as others, it just takes a whole long time for me to dig through the muck of feelings and impressions and half-formed thoughts, and by then, everyone has moved on. Whatever. I am slow. There is a surety in slow-thinking (not to be confused with decision-making-which requires a certain unwillingness to reconsider discarded options-something I am still working on). Actually I think the healthier I become, the less I think overall, and the more I just exist. And the truth is, it doesn't really matter. 

Ticket to nowhere?

My career is going nowhere. In fact, it can't really be called a career. It is a job. There is nowhere to move up and on. I have no desire to make decisions for other able-bodied adults, nor do I wish to labor intensely enough to perfect my paperwork to the point of moving "up." Is sitting at a desk correcting IEP paperwork really moving "up?" Nope. And that's fine. I enjoy connecting with kids most days. I want to help them do better and try harder. But let's not call it a career. 

In an ideal world, my words would be amazing enough that people would desire to read them-would wade through ads to read them and I could make a living that way. Or if I must, I would have braved the counseling degree so I could become a career counselor. I used to memorize the college course books and all the paths and the classwork and internships which would take people "somewhere." That would have been a good path. But it required a 2 year degree in counseling, I just felt the counseling admissions would look in my eyes, see my brokenness, and stamp a big red NOPE with a red box (for emphasis, of course) around it on top. 

Of course, there is always becoming an astronaut. Why do we allow kids to think they actually have such options. Why aren't we honest and say, "Hey, that's for the 140+ IQ elites, who probably have connections, and can handle military training (I just can't do push ups)." Why do we pretend kids can have amazing lives, when most of us are just going to have jobs. No, I said that wrong. We can have amazing LIVES. We just can't all have amazing careers. And the truth is, I don't have a burning desire for answers. I just want to experience space. I am much less deep than I like to pretend.

Let's Focus, Please

So I am getting off track. Goals. I have been thinking about how setting goals doesn't work for me. I mean, I used to set goals with the praxis tests. I will get X teaching certification. I'd pay the fee, take the test, add on the certification until one day I realized--I was just reliving the test prep anxiety the years and years of schooling had engrained into my skin. I had just become accustomed to that anxious feeling of proving myself, proving myself, feeling good, and then ... nothing. Nothing comes of it. I was just stuck in the pattern of schoolthink. I guess I am doing the same things with those Wordle games. Just proving to myself I have a brain cell or two banging around in there. What do you get when two brain cells bang? A synapse. Ahahahaha.

And now I am thinking, what if I just want to come home wrap in a blanket, sip a cup of hot tea (LOLOL, y'all know it's coffee), and stare at the everchanging cloud formations in the western sky. Does that make me less than? 

What's Happening Now? Why?

Am I finally getting over the middle-aged hump and returning to my Zen roots? Is this just some excerpt from a near-death-experience book rearing its head inside my head (I love that stuff). I read an interesting article on the Forbes website, by Jennifer Cohen, The Most Successful People Don't Set Goals. In this article, it was suggested that rather than setting goals, it might be more prudent and effective to set intentions. And I love that thought. I can't lose a pound today, but I can set the intention of eating healthily. I can't change the world or turn a student's life around, or suddenly start liking someone I am secretly hoping will be swallowed by a hole in the ground (sorry, it's the devil inside that makes me think such things), but I can set the intention of being more present, or making someone feel valued, or looking for the good in the person who really needs to be swallowed (come on, Mother Earth, do your thing!).

And the amazing thing about intentions is they can easily change. Today I intend to eat healthy, tomorrow I intend to live life fully. They can be short-term or long term. They are easy ways to become your better self without a checklist and time limit. And I love that. 

So Anyway

I had much more to say, but I feel a cold trying to get under my skin and my body at the breaking point. I am tired. The kids are staying with their big sister in an hour and as much as I desire to get out (Barnes and Noble and Renaissance books), I also strongly desire to take my two little single serving Cabernets and curl up with a comfort movie ( I have been craving rewatching Sherlock-I JohnLock SO HARD, but I would have to pay now that it is off Netflix-gross), and just going to sleep early.

We shall see. My intention was to say something with depth and clarity-well, there is always tomorrow.

Started my journal

 I only have a minute. I was just excited as I started my slam journal today and wanted to share. U am using the mass book, which was given to me on my trip to Ireland.

This is all I have time for!

Some days are hard: Grief, guilt, shame, and Loss

 

Yesterday was hard. It started out fine. I spent the day relaxing, watching too much television with the kids. I looked down at youngest, snuggled next to me, and thought about how lucky I am to have a warm home, and boys to keep me company. I marveled over the fact that in spite of all the rooms in the house he has to be in the same room as me, preferably snuggled up against me. The flaws with the house didn't seems so overwhelming. I made a list of things I would like to fix, starting with things I can do myself, and my 11-year-old even promised to fix the magnets in the cabinet doors which he stole years ago. I went out to get the mail, gingerly walking down the snow-packed driveway, and noted all my good, middle-classy neighbors, had shoveled their drives. Even the elderly.  I guess Sheryl Crow's good people live in my neighborhood. "The good people of the world/Are washing their cars on their lunch break/Hosing and scrubbing as best they can in skirts in suits..."

I felt a twinge of ... not good enoughness, but then realized I really couldn't care less if there is snow on my drive. The walkway and steps melted quickly enough. I really don't want someone falling and cracking their head open.

Anyway, the day was uneventful. I wasted a lot of time. Since I am working 1 and half to 2 hours after school on my Launch classes on weekdays, and have 5 hours allotted to a homebound student on weeknights (spread out Monday through Friday in which I have to sit and put in a half-hour waiting to see if the student shows up), I felt entitled to an easy day.

Then, as I was lying in bed, almost ready to sleep, I thought I would go back to my old school friend, Susan's facebook page, to see how she was doing. A friend of hers had posted about her being gravely ill with Covid. We haven't talked or even messaged in a while-perhaps years, but I always enjoy her spirited, upbeat posts. And then I saw what I had missed last week. Instead of a new post, her friend had posted down in a post that she had passed away. The funeral was last week.

And all I could feel was weird. Weird and regretful that our friendship had died out like it did. I guess it was natural. She went away to college for a couple years and when she returned, I was across the country married to an Air Force man. When I returned, older and much more liberal-minded, I felt an alienation with most of the people I had known. Still, though, I know I could have rekindled some semblance of friendship, even if it was a just a lunch once a year, if I had just picked up the phone and done so. I just always assumed it could be done later. When life was more settled and I didn't have children to care for. When I was pregnant with Gabe, my mom had a shower planned for me, and I was so excited, because she had invited several people I had wanted to reconnect with including Susan. Alas, my mom's diabetic feet got the better of her and she had to be hospitalized, thus preventing the shower. But I could have planned something. I could have done more. My damned insecurities and inability to make room for people are such a plague.

I wanted to dig up all my Susan things last night, but my body was so tired, and so I just cried a little. Cried because noone would recognize that this would hurt me. Cried because I always let people go and don't fight for them. Cried because Caleb was so deeply hurt and I was suspicious and I didn't do enough to help him.  And I cried because my boys' father as far as I know is out on the streets, wasting away, his unmedicated brain deteriorating more every day. All those good times are just dust in the wind.  And then...I slept. I only cried a few minutes because I have found that things aren't nearly as painful as they were when I was younger. The ability to understand that  good night's sleep alleviates most emotional anguish has made things a bit easier as I age. Although it probably has made me a bit more callous towards others' pain. 

And my damned alarm went off a five a.m. So I accepted my four hours of sleep and went into my closet to see what I could find. I could only find two pictures. Only two. But I found notes and smiled over the pressing matters of high school. Tidbits about crushes and who Susan was mad at and why. Susan was one of my best friends from about age 10 to age 15. She was also one of my most challenging friends.

We fought terribly. Often I would start the fight. In jealousy, usually, as Susan always had more friends , and her secrets with others would burn me sometimes. And I would strike out (literally-I'd slap her-I said I had a temper to tame), and then her wrath would come down. I am a little traumatized by Susan to be honest. For all the sleepovers and makeup (although she was Pentacostal) and movies we'd sneak to (she was so afraid someone from her church would see her), Susan could come down like a sledgehammer when she was angry. She was definitely more socially sophisticated than me. Hell, who isn't? But the memory of the entire bus chanting, "We hate Jill and Amy (the unfortunate girl who sat by me that day), because Susan started it, or the time she took a survey of who actually liked me at school and gave it to me afterwards, ugg. Ouch. I remember poor Amy crying bitterly, while I told her to stay firm and keep her head up and pretend she didn't hear. But I learned not to slap my friends by mid-junior high, so that was an important lesson. Keeping your hands to yourself is better learned before you are old enough to be prosecuted, I guess, and for that lesson, I am grateful. 

 Halfway through high school we started to drift apart. The only class we had in common was French, we never seemed to have the same lunch period, and she was nearly a year older and started working earlier than me. Even when I got a job at the same place, Susan was working many hours at night, hanging out with the older crowd, while I preferred part-time morning hours and hanging out with my friend Christy or my boyfriend during the evening. 

It is weird to see a side of someone that most of the world doesn't see. In some ways, I think I missed the real Susan, as our relationship was tainted by childhood transgressions. We saw the ugly in each other.  I remember having lunch with her once, decades ago, and she talked about going back to college, but for business, not elementary education like we had always planned. And I wrapped my head around this change, and thought, yes, she could do that. 

I cannot believe I can only find two photos. A lot of time has passed though, and I have thrown out so much over the years.

Judging by Facebook, Susan had a difficult year. She lost her brother, Chris (Chris!) in November, and I remember how odd that felt to me-a stranger. That the boy who once teased and annoyed us at sleepovers was gone. Then her boyfriend/partner passed away suddenly in November, as well. And then she slipped away in January. I think of my mom's last year, how she suffered with a failing heart and foot problems and shingles. How sometimes when you know someone is in a lot of pain, it makes it a little easier to let them go and accept that their time here was up. And I think of Susan's daughter, Taryn's age, navigating a world without a mother to count on. 

This is the way of the world. The longer we stay here, the more we watch others fall. If only the good die young, what does that say about those of us who linger?

Or perhaps what that statement is really a commentary on, is the societal norm that we don't speak ill of the dead. They can offer no rebuttal-cannot explain their own side, so it seems unfair to disparage them. And what I would say about Susan is this: 

She was fun-loving and spirited. She knew how to laugh. She was bright and could talk to anyone. And when we walked through the neighborhood selling chocolate Statue of Liberties for a school fundraiser, she could get a yes, where I was usually a no thank you. I always envied that. That ability to persuade.

 What ability do I have? The ability to go home and reflect upon my feelings? Whoop-de-doo.

So yesterday was hard. But in the words of Sarah J. Maas..."Don't let the hard days win."