Do you get weary too?

Do you ever get weary?

Like Atlas, is the weight of the world on your shoulders?

Do you sometimes feel that the only thing holding you together is the fact that everyone else around you is counting on you to hold them together?

You have to be the glue.  But sometimes you just want to have your own meltdown.

This one's anxiety and that one's depression, and sometimes what you have JUST. ISN'T. ENOUGH.

So you start to feel like you're barely staying afloat, or you're going under.  But you can't.  You simply can't.  Because who will hold them together if you fall apart?

Dear Mama

Dear Mama,

I tried so hard to be that girl you wanted me to be..you know, the one who was selfless enough to not be angry, to understand why you felt it was time. And I do. Oh, I do understand. You felt like a burden. And God knows, 17 years on dialysis is a long, long time. And not being able to drive anymore or clean anymore, and always feeling like you put us out. I hope we never, ever made you feel that way. But I know. I know you watched as we cancelled plans to take you places. I never begrudged doing that though. And any friend who couldn't understand, just wasn't my friend.

Today though, I'm angry. I'm mad that I'm going through my adulthood without you. I have questions about raising a teenager. I need advice. I need the wisdom only you could offer me. And you're not here.

How did you survive my teen years? How did I not break your heart over and over when I wouldn't talk to you, when I simply shut down on you? Am I doing the right things? Am I asking the right questions, or setting the right boundaries? What did you do when all you wanted was to cry but you couldn't because you didn't have the time? How did you fill the silences in the car without growing weary?

There have been so many times since you've been gone that I've needed you. But I've been okay. We've all made it through. Today though, I'm angry. I'm angry you're not here. And I think I'm allowed a little mad.

I love you, and I miss you every day. I miss being able to call you for anything. I miss our stupid jokes, and I miss the way we pretty much read each others' minds. I miss your laugh and your voice, and it's getting to where I can't remember either of them.  I miss you, and I need you, and I'm so angry that you're gone. And maybe, just maybe, this stark honesty, 12 years later, is what I need to start to heal.

Love always,
"Your most precious gift"

Where Living Is A...

I grew up in a great town. Really great. Small town. Huge lake. Skating rink. Drugstore with a soda fountain. Seriously, a great town. I walked to Jr. high and high school. My granny and papa lived a few houses down. My mom and dad grew up there; my grandparents grew up there.

When I was growing up, there were jobs galore there. You see, Russell Athletic was headquartered there. And really, our community was pretty much living large...or at the very least, we were all solidly middle class. We were mostly happy. We had a beautiful lake to boat on, swim in, fish in, ski on. Our downtown was quaint. It had charm, and a fountain, and mom and pop shops that had been there forever. The drugstore had a soda fountain that sold lime freezes and egg and olive sandwiches.

To say there had been no progress would be a lie. When I was growing up there were a couple subdivisions that went in, some apartment complexes. We went from the Strand, a single screen theater, to Playhouse Cinema, a double screen. Wal-Mart moved twice into bigger locations. But we got no Olive Gardens, no Chili's, no specialty grocery stores. And that was then...when the town could've supported it. Instead we drove to 45 minutes to Montgomery and ate at their Red Lobster and then came home and cruised the parking lots until curfew.

Slowly Russell Athletic started moving out. Plants were being moved to Costa Rica and down the road closer to the bigger cities. Eventually they were almost all gone, along with the jobs. People were moving - money for the roads, the schools, the parks along with them. I was last in my hometown two years ago. I took Hayley on a tour. The Russell plant I worked in right out of high school was being torn down. All that was left was a pile of bricks.

My hometown stood still while all around it bigger cities grew and developed. It still has the same quaint little downtown area, the fountain, the drugstore soda fountain still sells lime freezes and egg and olive sandwiches. And most people still buy them...when they're in town visiting. You see, I have very few friends still in my hometown. An aunt who works at a doctor's office, a cousin in a pharmacy. A friend who teaches at our alma mater, another who works for the county. A couple who have businesses. And there are a few who do what so many others do...live there and work out of town.

I work in an area similar to that now. I hear the complaints about growth and development. I hear how we don't need new housing developments and we don't need new businesses. I hear about how progress is destroying the "hometown feel" of the area. And every time I hear these things, all I can think about are those crumbling buildings, those empty houses, and those people who spend more time in their cars than with their families. And my heart hurts.

There's a balance to be found, a tightrope our civic leaders walk daily. How do we preserve and progress all at the same time? I'm glad it's not my job. But I have the utmost respect for the ones who do this job. The county I live and work in is ranked 95 out of 3100 counties in the US for per capita income. That's a lot more than I can say for my hometown.