It’s far too perfect a morning to sit here and NOT write. It feels like fall in Mississippi (finally!). It’s 61 degrees and overcast. The limbs of the trees are doing a slow, casual dance as if shaking off the relentless heat we have experienced for months. They dance with glee. 

The last week was….well, it was fast and long all at once. Lots of work, Monday was there with the usual lists and boxes to check off. Next thing I knew it was Thursday and lists and boxes remained. That is both a wonderful and horrible feeling. Who enjoys what they do for a living so much that the days literally flip so fast it seems like a blur? I find that to be a wonderful blessing. I remember once upon a time that misery of watching the clock tick minute by minute and wanting to be out of the building. It’s a true blessing to wish you had more hours in the day because you are enjoying the time you spend working. 

The horrible feeling is the stress that comes with those boxes and lists and more adding to it. Stress and anxiety come and managing it is not my forte. So there I was Thursday evening, a mixture of joy and anxiety and decided to go sit and have myself a glass of wine in our upscale dining before heading to bed. Just a glass to enjoy something. 

Three hours, three glasses, one cocktail, and 4 different texts I should never have sent later I went to bed. Which meant Friday was kinda miserable. There is the alcohol hangover–easily cured with water and breakfast, neither did I wake up in time to procure–and then there’s the “what the hell did I send that text for” hangover. The second is far less easy to cure. In fact, I propose a game show in which my friends sit and watch me via hidden camera and win money based on my next move when I am drinking. They probably couldn’t handle it. They love me and would want to step in and put me to bed. God how I couldn’t survive this world without them. 

Today I realized my left and my right brains are at odds. The creative, romantic, hopeless optimist is not seeing what the data driven, analytic side sees. The world is literally coming at me from two opposing ends. I believe that’s where writers block comes in. And I think that’s an amazing thing. It’s an opportunity to really figure out what’s bothering me. Despite the hard work of having to face those drunk texts, it means I have some wrongs that I am not “over” that are probably bubbling below the surface needing me to bring my left brain in and figure it out. 

But the bottom line (Left Brain loves that term) is: I will never know why those guys used and hurt me and it’s time to free my right brain from the chains of feeling hurt. Why did I say those things drunk? Because I want answers. Well, dear A-type Brain, some things you need to let the other side handle. The side that knows they are hurt people just going around hurting people. And Lefty says, get out of their path. ASAP. Forget the texts (deleted their names and numbers for the record) and go shine. They are casting shadows and drowning out my beauty. And they are so not worth it!! 

One thing both sides agree on: it hurt around here recently with these mean people but it’s time to let it go. Just let. It. Go. There won’t be an answer. It’s a scientific theory, not a calculus problem with an identifiable answer. Time to dust myself off, get my nails done, and go to work. Cross those guys off the list because that is done. Now, time to work on more tangible matters. 

A day later, I found this:

Writers. Block. Ugh!! At this point I feel starved. I NEED to write just like I need air. So what is it? I can attribute a definite amount to jaw pain. According to the professionals, I clench my jaw and grind my teeth in my sleep. Wearing a night guard for a few weeks, no chewing gum (hello mints, my new BFF), and taking 1800 mg of ibuprofen a day should eliminate the problem. Until then… I wait. 

But you know what I keep thinking? Wayne Dyer. “There’s a spiritual solution to every problem.” For some reason I can’t let that thought go. And I wonder, “what inside me is clogged up?”  It’s gotta be a matter of the heart. Everything else in my life is freaking stellar. Nothing is wrong. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m not hurt OR overjoyed. Maybe it isn’t writers block at all; maybe it’s balance. Ok, it doesn’t feel good so even I can’t buy that load of crap. But it’s true. Nothing is wrong, things are going well in all areas. I want to get up early every day my jaw doesn’t hurt and race to work! I got my dog licking me and just started season one of Sex and the City. Could I be any happier? (That was my best Chandler Bing)

Yes, truth is I could. And if I really get down to it, I’m still kinda…I don’t know what the exact feeling is. It goes back to the lying sack of crap who led me on for weeks. This from the cheater posting crap on his Facebook like he wants want more conversation with someone up in heaven. Well what would they say about your ways here on earth?! Think on that, ass hat! Ok, yes, I finally broke down to see what he had posted. A bit o’cyber stalking. (Still in style since 1999.) And deep down I hear a very faint whisper saying “hahaha bless your broken heart, you can’t pick a good one to save your life! All you find are crap bags!” And dear god, it’s true. As much as I do not want to listen to that voice within, maybe I need to. And so then I start thinking of the most recent and go back down the line. I haven’t dated a decent dude in a good couple of years. Nearly three. Crazy, selfish, creepy, lying, and more issues than Oprah Magazine is a brief summary of 2013, 2014, & 2015.

I did something this weekend. I reached out to what I think is a nice guy I met almost a month ago. We are going out Saturday. Half of me is hopeful and half of me thinks I need a back up plan. I’m really trying not to listen to the voice that says give up, you aren’t going to find someone, stop trying. Hope is dead. 

Something else I did this weekend? Bought a new Tag Heuer. Yeah, I was going to use the income from roommate to pay off a credit card and save more. Well, now I’m just paying two and saving none. But this thing is tight! And for a few minutes every day I look at it and think, “you go girl. You have some serious issues picking out the worst men in the universe, but damn you got diamonds on your timepieces!” So yeah, I’m really bad at______

AHA!!!!!!!!!! OH. MY. GOD. THAT IS THE ISSUE. I LIKE BEING GOOD AT THINGS. I DON’T ENJOY BEING ALONE, YET MY KRYPTONITE IS THE ABILITY TO FIND A WORTHY SUITOR. 

Pause. 

And no wonder me and my brain refuse to ‘bye Felicia’ (yes, I just made that a verb) and move on. I feel like I made a mistake. I did, but then again, he’s a slimy snake pretending to be a bunny rabbit! How could one know any sooner?! I’m holding myself hostage over other people’s problems. I got problems, but difference is I am not hiding behind lies or guilt. I am who and what I am. Most days, that’s a damn good person (accessoried nicely with a Tag Heuer). Ok, let’s put the Tag purchase on front street: should I have financed jewelry for 60 months?! Hell, NO. Only a wedding ring should be……<— and would you lookie there, the truth fell out. I believe in wedding rings costing enough to finance for five years, but not something for myself that I love and work for every day. 

Now does that make any sense?! I am fully committed to wearing these watches for the next decade. Or two. They are classy and timeless. (Get it?) Yet in that sentence I just valued relationship a higher priority than buying something nice for myself. Whew. Revelations are coming forth. So much to think about now. 

I just finished an intense two day workshop courtesy of MGM Resorts. It’s called Diversity Champions but that hardly does it justice. It’s more like “we go to any extreme to get you to come out of your comfort zone and see someone else’s perspective.” 

When I arrived home, I had a box with a surprise pair of Converse high tops inside with no card. Blew my mind! Who did this? I have a guess. So far, silence. 

So I was parading around and taking selfies with my new shoes when I looked in the mirror and thought, “Damn, I’m a catch.” And that sounds very egotistical but that’s how I roll. Because one thing I learned the last two days, is that you have to earn it. Earn it. And damnit, I earned it. 

I earned every pound I lost, every penny I have (few as they may be), every hair I didn’t pull out, and every punch I have been thrown. I earned it. I earned the right to love my job and have the greatest dog ever. I earned the girl who is prissy now (or so they say). I earned it. 

I don’t know if the people in my class will ever know my story or if they just see a smiling face. They may judge me. Maybe they think I’m so happy cause I have things easy. But I earned it. I always go back to “don’t judge the rainbow just because you missed the tornado.” Yes, life is beautiful now. The next chapter will come and be filled with its own hardship but for now I’m riding the wave of happiness. 

I recently wrote and abandoned a blog called Pain Changes Us.  While the blog was good, it felt incomplete.  Forward to last night.  After half a bottle of Pinot Noir [holy crap, welcome to my life you little red devil and mad props to our sommelier for bringing that into my life], I went to a Trace Adkins show.  Some of the songs I knew.  And then he started, “Every Light in the House is On.”  I gauged the audience.  I saw people instantly cheer in recognition and start swaying and singing the song with Trace.  And I saw how emotional the collective audience became.  Me?  I realized I sang along but while I tried to find the original emotion I recalled having to the song when it was new, I came up empty.  

Who would I leave the lights on for?  [Sadie; the answer is Sadie]  The song I actually related to most was something about finding middle ground between Jesus and George Jones.  Being a weird, artsy type of person, the remainder of the show I watched how music touched people on an emotional level.  And then I went to a lounge and the nightclub, and watched the same thing.  I knew the lyrics to just about every song, and people would react in a way that I seemed to recall once feeling, but it was lost on me.  I Facebook’d the observation that when you don’t have love, love songs mean less.  Followed up by the comment this morning, “I heard songs all night and recalled music used to make me think of a name, face, smell, feeling or SOMETHING. But not anymore. I have nothing to attach them to. It was semi-relieving. I don’t think I’m missing it.”

And that’s when it all came full circle: the blog about pain changing us and my reaction to music, once upon a time music alone could get into places inside me nothing else could.  Since late 2013, my heart has trusted people and then absolutely shattered when they broke that trust.  Most recently, Tuesday.  Upon hearing that I’d been lied to just about all summer, I sank.  For about an hour I held back tears and I thought, “damn, you can’t trust anyone these days.”  I even considered just giving up on the entire world for a moment and jumping off a parking garage! But the reality is that I didn’t want life to end, I wanted to NEVER, EVER feel that feeling inside me for the duration of my life.  Whatever was left inside of me that resembled hope for finding someone was completely abolished that moment I found out I’d trusted someone who was nothing but a lying sack of dog crap [and even my Sadie’s dog crap is too good for some people, he being one].  

And yes, I’m getting very personal but this isn’t about the bad people, it’s about what grown people do to one another.  40 is swiftly approaching.  I don’t play the games and quite frankly was not very clever at them anyway; it always felt deceitful.  I am who I am, take it or leave it.  [I do believe I’ve noted previously that apparently most opt to leave]  And in the case of Tuesday?  Well, that’s best summarized in two words:  BYE FELICIA!  How some people walk around living with themselves is beyond me.  As for me, my head is high because I’m proud of what I’ve done, where I’ve been, where I come from, what I have, and yes, the things and people I have lost.  It was all great learning experience.  And I’m so very happy today.  

So maybe there is a part of me that died.  Maybe when when we grieve a piece of us does in fact die with every heartbreak.  I didn’t think that before, but I realize that’s what has happened.  And I’m so happy about it.  It feels like a weight is lifted.  I won’t fall to my knees and sob because of a man ever again.  No one will ever get the chance to get close enough to hurt me and that is nothing to be upset about.  That’s a bold strategy.  It goes against everything I’ve ever thought up to this point, but pain changes us.  Hurt people, hurt people…or so they say.  So stop hurting.  I no longer hurt.  Personally, I feel more alive, more creative, more confident, more beautiful, and more engaged with life than ever before.  Fix your broken ass self-esteem, get some integrity and values in your life, take your pills or get on some, and be a respectable human.  It’s your job.  The universe lets you breathe every single day and have unlimited potential while here and the absolute best some of you can manage is to be a sack of crap? Shame on you.  

You know what? In a matter of a week I have been reminded twice that people can truly hurt you. But I look at them and have nothing but gratitude. I thank them for teaching me life lessons. I walk with my head high because while I’m not perfect, I am exactly who I claim to be and never aim to deceive or hurt someone. I do not always succeed; I am human. I am so very blessed beyond words. In fact, I am sorry for them. How sad it must be to avoid peoples eyes and be so bitter and unhappy that you MUST bring others misery. You can’t feel real joy going around doing that. 
I actually googled the psychology behind deceit and lies to see if I could gain insight. (I also have ADD and after a bunch of statistics, I closed the browser😁). After my initial hurt dissipated, I thought, “how and why would you do that?!” 

But in the end I know it isn’t about me. Hurt people hurt people, they say. I think that’s true. Again, I’d shake their hands today and tell them a hearty thank you for letting me see what was going on so I could be pushed to something greater. THANK YOU! The universe obviously has something better in store for me. I ain’t got time to figure you out [took me 30+ years to do me] so let me just bless your (shady, jacked up) heart and rejoice in all I love about my life. May they find happiness and peace. 

I have developed a new way of knowing who is and isn’t right for me. It’s mathematically based, so I feel like it is a true eureka moment. I call it the Dating Algorithm and I think it will make my future endeavors into the world of romance less painstaking and brutal. 

First off, there are two kinds of men in this world. Type A is the guy who drools over you and when sleeping over doesn’t care how much of the mattress space he gets-be it a sliver or a substantial slice-as long as he’s next to you. I should have married Type A. And everyone else is Type B, he wants to be comfortable and when it comes time to sleep, have enough room to do so. To begin to narrow down these guys, every man becomes a fraction; a numerical representation of how much space he will need. It is not 100% to scale, it is merely a value assigned for reduction. 

Why is this a solid means of analyzing the dating pool? Well, as I lay here enjoying 100% of the bed in silence, it hits me that to avoid any loneliness and gain pleasure  with a mate, I am going to have to give up part of my 100% domination of the mattress at some point. And really, life boils down to who is worthy of such sacrifice.  Obviously body type is the starting point. The smaller the dude, the less I give up. The bigger the guy…ok, you get it. To make me look fair, I’ll say we start at 50% across the board and then begin attrition. 

Further examining the plethora of Type B men available, some rules become evident to me. Baby Mama Drama? Hmm, that’s cutting at least an extra 30%. Why? Because though he will be sleeping (and probably snoring) quite well, this seems like a situation where I lose sleep. This now becomes a 80/20 mattress. Whoa. He better be rich, good-looking, and handle a sports car better than me cause 20% is too low. 

While we are on the subject of mama, Mommy Issues, Emotional Unavailability (my forte), narcissism (a close second as my natural gift), and commitment issues are pretty substantial. That’s a pretty big chunk. Those guys are coming into a relationship trying to work those matters out. This means they unintentionally end up stealing more than their fair share. Shoo shoo. Not worth my lack of comfort and draining me emotionally to try to make you feel whole. Go lay in your bed…alone…for like a decade… until you sort your twisted mind out. 

So now begins the process of analyzing data I receive from anyone I should encounter and sticking to my scale. This is solid research and statistics. Numbers don’t lie. 

😂😉😝 

I am bewildered. My favorite tv show just let me down. Through every era of my life one show has been there to cheer me up-Friends. (Did you REALLY think Firefly was going to go the distance with just one season?! That isn’t a rock to lean on; that show is a tease!) 

Since high school, Friends has always made real life go away for a few minutes while I absorb myself into the totally fake and impossible lives of the six pals living in NYC. I’ve been watching the seasons all over again since my last break up. Yes, that long. And here I am in season 8, episode 5 when out of nowhere the show I rely on to keep reality at bay comes out of the TV and jerks my heart around. 

See, the thing is, I had a huge crush on a sous chef recently and I’m a little bit tender where he almost got in. This is not the kind of crap I need from my favorite show. I expect no reminder of my pain when I am zoning out eating pizza and candy. Bleh. 

 On top of that, Sadie needs to go to the doctor in the morning. I am almost finished moving my stuff into my new room. At least one good thing came out of this horrible day. 

In need of inspiration, I looked back on my phone for some pictures I had saved of uplifting quotes. I found some. And then, there was a picture he had sent from Afghanistan November 2013. It’s creeping up on two years since I received that picture. And yet, before I could stop it, tears filled my eyes and a pain hit me like it was yesterday. I thought I had deleted them. There’s only a couple of pictures of us even together. From Italy… 

Oh, how the heart doesn’t forget. The mind slips, but the heart doesn’t forget. That’s why I have to bow out of the search for love. If it comes looking for me, tell it I moved. Tell love I haven’t been seen in quite some time. And if I see Cupid, I’ll use some self defense moves and have his own arrow to his little cherub neck before he knows what hit him. 

I thought I saw Cupid coming a couple weeks ago. Turns out I was wrong. Trusted this guy. He is smart and cute. I was very excited and very hopeful. All the more reason to tidy up this broken heart, board it up, and hang a no trespassing sign. Visitors not welcome. I’m not even sure who broke it this bad and when. I just know I can’t relive the pain of something failing one more time. I’m too old. No more Italy. I barely survived. 

I have a great life. If I can numb this little pain inside one last time and never let anyone in again, I’ll be the happiest person on earth.  

I wish I had been born a pretty little fool. A woman who needed a man. I could and likely would have found one. I was not fortunate enough. Instead, I was always strong-willed and in charge of creating my own happiness. A woman who wants a man and doesn’t need one is quite lonely. 

I have been asked at least three times this week why I am single. I don’t know what I’m expected to say about that: “I make bad decisions”? “Boys are mean”?  “Every time I take someone at their word when it comes to romance, I get a little bit burned”? What’s the right answer to that question?! I’m a smart gal, were there a simple and pinpoint response I think I’d figure it out.  But it is not simple; it’s rather complex. And after struggling for a the majority of my life with it, I give up. Going forward the answer is: because I choose to be. 

I’m starting a new meditation practice. I close my eyes and envision a table. I start putting words and images on the table. I fill this table with romantic love, people I am attracted to, people who have crushed me, children, wedding dresses, etc. ANY love-related image I hold inside goes on the table. Then, I blow the table up. In any variety of ways, I make sure everything there is nothing but dust when I am through with it. Now, in this meditation, the table survives (miracles happen in my meditation). But the table is now empty. And I decorate it. I put expensive table settings in place and a beautiful centerpiece. Then, I think of the things which are non-relationship oriented that make me happy and I begin putting those words and images on my table. What makes the cut? Let’s see, family, friends, Sadie, popcorn, books, music, television, writing, etc. Pretty soon my table is full and that is what I will spend my life focusing on. 

Some may ask, “why?” Because I’m just over the bullshit and bullshitters, that’s why. Because I don’t trust anyone anyway. And frankly, because it’s like the country song said, it isn’t so much I’m giving up on love as it is love has given up on me. So this is my last blog about anything related to romance. It’s off the table. Gone. Not an option. All it has ever done is make me miserable. And I have so very much to be grateful for with that gone!! Think about it, no one can have everything. I have a life filled with blessings and if romance and love are no longer on the table as something to have, then I have everything I’d ever want or need!!! So why leave it on the table? 

I’m glad some of you have true love and I realize I sound a bit jaded. But hey, this is just how it’s going to be.  A person cannot have everything and love is just what I don’t get. It’s cool. Please don’t set me up with “this really great guy” you know, please don’t ask me out, please don’t expect me to change my mind, and, most of all, if you know Marshall Mathers remember that this does NOT (repeat, NOT) apply to him. He’s my exception. A divorced Robert Downey Jr is also exception #1a. 

Maybe in a year or few I will change my mind. But, for now, I think this is really for the best.  

This is a hard day.  No, that’s not entirely accurate.  This is the END of some very hard days for everyone here in Mississippi.  For a solid week everyone has been bombarded with images of devastation.  [August to September is hard anyway.  I always think of Kimberly so much during these months.] And, some of us were forced to think about Aug 29, 2005 starting a few weeks ago.  So I’ll be glad when this day is over.  Truthfully, it’s like a break-up that keeps dragging out.  Katrina, let’s just go our separate ways, bitch.  (Yes, I dropped a B word and even that doesn’t paint a horrible enough picture of what I think about her.)

I posted my evacuation story and I didn’t really want to relive it.  And as I try and think of the days, weeks, months, and years afterward…well, I guess I am not a good enough writer to put the rainbow of emotions into words.  My story is one of hundreds of thousands.  I lost things, but in a different kind of way.  You see, Katrina forced me to look at my husband and the things we wanted and what we’d put each other through for seven years and a mere month or so after Katrina, we split.  I split, more accurately.  I took my truck, a suitcase, and left.  I came back a couple of weeks later for my Chloe dog.  Looking back on it, that’s a fucked up time to leave somebody…in the truck that I had to sleep a few nights in with him which eventually led to the breakdown/breakthrough that we were not meant to be.  Shortage of housing and I leave the a perfectly intact home to go share a bed with my best friend in the next town?  Damn right I did.

You see, that storm and being forced to sleep a in a truck together, brought up some very traumatic things between us.  And while I had been charading around and going with the flow for a long time, Katrina somehow was the biggest straw to ever break a camel’s back.  I don’t want to go into details–it’s sufficient to say that I sought a therapist who was practicing as soon as she opened and did give marriage counseling a try but ultimately, that marriage was over long before I left.  Someone had to say it and I was willing to have nothing if it meant I had peace.  

I got a raise after Katrina.  Well, I deserved it.  I left my husband and married my job.  [please note, I just realized how incredibly hard my teeth are gritted just recounting all this] But first, I had to find housing.  I found a duplex that had one hole in the roof (that was awesome, FYI).  They promised it would be fixed by my move-in day.  Move-in day came.  I loaded the truck and unlocked the door.  Surprise, the hole was still there.  I don’t recall how long–week or two or a month?–I slept with the closet door closed since it had a hole in it and listened to the critters coming and going as they pleased, what very, very few of them were left.  And then came a call from a friend who had gone to Florida and decided he was going to stay there.  Would I like to rent his house from his landlord?  Heck yes I would!  A lawyer friend got my money back for the duplex with a hole and me and the dog and the truck went to Ray Road. [insert Beverly Hillbillies theme song]

I guess I won’t hide the fact that after I left my husband up to the point of the move to Ray Road, I met a man and he ultimately caused me serious pain in a short amount of time.  Emotional and physical.  Being forced to recall this time in my life as I have been, I suppose looking back that it’s only because of the therapist and friends that I got through all of it.  But at the time, I just kept going without thinking about it.  Day after day.  You see, I was incredibly blessed through this time.  I didn’t lose my home, job, or loved ones.  And I don’t think that, despite the shitstorm my life was at the time, I ever lost sight of that.  In fact, at the new house on Ray Road I had extra bedrooms and a friend had lost everything.  I said, “you take the master, I like the other bathroom better” and we were a patchwork family at that point–my “brother”, my dog, and me.

He’d been in the attic with an ax in rising waters.  Already one not to sleep, my “brother” wasn’t sleeping well once he’d moved in.  With all the emotions running through me, neither was I.  One of my fondest memories is waking up and letting Chloe out in the middle of the night.  OMG, you never knew what I was going to see.  One night I smelled food, wandered into the kitchen, found my friend cooking lamb chops and singing to Bob Marley.  We ate and taught Chloe the song “Three Little Birds,”…every little thing is gonna be alright.  Another night he had found my unused yoga ball and was kicking it across the one-and-a-half acre yard in the middle of the night.  Seemed silly to let him kick that giant yoga ball around by himself so I joined him.  It was white and there weren’t any trees so the moonlight and security lights around the house provided plenty of light to make the game interesting.  One night we found my hackey sack from college.  The porch became a battlefield.  We also would randomly sneak up and throw it at one another the entire duration of our roommatery.  I think I hid it from him a couple of times, but I couldn’t resist not launching it at him and running down the hall with Chloe.  Once, he got me by propelling it at the shower curtain while I was soaking wet.  He one-upped me for sure.

We’d go back to sleep a couple of hours until the sun came up, I’d wake up and write for a while, and then we’d head off to work.  I’m minimizing the painful events and emotions, because the point is we just found a new normal.  Friends became my family.  There were bonfires every Friday night on Ray Road.  Hell, plenty of firewood fall/winter 2005!  And even if I was going to a bar that had (finally) reopened, I stopped by the bon fire first and visited with my neighbors/friends/family to catch up on the week’s events.  What I remember most about post-Katrina life is how so, so, so many people came together.  It wasn’t anything we talked about I don’t guess, but the community known as “the Coast” was one big family.  Quietly, without fanfare, we helped one another however we could and rebuilt our lives.  I can count at least 4 people who came to volunteer after the storm that I met and are still friends today.  One in particular; if I call Fred at any time and say, “Yo, I need help dawg,”  I know he’s on his way from Michigan.  He also ended up living at Ray Road for a time.  

After my “brother” left, my best friend and her father moved in.  It was some of the best times of my life.  We met a guy named Mike the Milkman.  That’s what we called him.  Before he’d left Minnesota to come rebuild the Coast he worked at a dairy.  Mike had a philosophy I quickly adopted after several of us loaded up in his Camaro and went to Florida one weekend to just get away from the mess and see something that WASN’T torn all to hell.  Mike would say to everything, “You’ll have that.”  Guy was a douchebag? “You’ll have that,” he’d say.  Work was a bitch all day? “You’ll have that,” Mike would tell you.  Brokeback Mountain came out on DVD?  Mike laughed and said, “I guess you’ll have that.”  I couldn’t have needed anything more at the time than Mike reiterating that with everything, it just happens.  Take it gracefully.  Katrina ripped the life we knew away?  You’ll have that.  He said it at least once an hour.  Soon, my little group of friends/family were all telling each other that.  I stayed on Ray Road until Aug 2008, when I bought my current house.

So, as I laid awake tonight thinking about everything Aug 29, 2005 meant for me and Mississippi, I heard Mike the Milkman’s voice.  God only knows where he is now, but that little saying must have crept into my subconscious and it became my mantra.  I used it for YEARS after he was gone.  But here in the last couple of years, I haven’t said it much, if at all.  It’s time to bring it back.  As I watch the sunrise Aug 29, 2015, I think about all the shit, the pain, the joy, the death, the love, the loss and I just think, “you’ll have that.”  For everything and everyone there is a season.  A time to remember Hurricane Katrina and a time to forget.  I don’t speak for everyone, but a lot of us have paused this week and saw things and thought of things we didn’t want to relive.  We’ve cried our eyes out.  Today, I want to just appreciate that mattresses aren’t in trees.  That new buildings and homes are around me.  That I see birds and squirrels again! That my friends/family are amazing.  And that this place I have chosen to be my home for 14 years (almost to the very day) is the most resilient place on planet Earth.  You’ll have that.