Traveling Time

Besides writing, I have always wanted to travel.

Writing is something I have never classed as a dream. It's what I do; it's a facet of Who I Am. If I do, or don't do, or dream it, I will write it. Some way, some day. This is a fact, not a goal; not an ambition; not a dream.

Travel is the dream.
Something I have always wanted to do, but have done little of . Life has a way of stepping in and putting things back, for the someday that may never happen.That will probably never happen.

Well, my sisters started making it happen for me. Two years ago, they invited me to be part of their trip to Niagara Falls.









This June they invited me to participate in a Great Smokies getaway.

I can't thank them enough.

I've been looking into myself recently to see where all the desire went.

It didn't go anywhere, but it did get buried.

Buried under worries about him and them and cars and jobs and kids and health and homes and aloneness.

Once, I had a goal to walk the West Coast of the US, from San Diego to Seattle. I tried to save for it by saving change, but never managed to fill even a small peanut can with money. It kept being used, or borrowed, and I don't even remember when I gave that up.

Besides, my "big dream" was overshadowed by the neighbor across the street.
He had a goal, too.
His goal was to walk around the whole dang world.

Made my dream puny in comparison.

And then he actually did it!
And published articles, letters, and books about it! (yeah, that one, too!)

Thanks, Steve!
(Steve Newman, Dream thief.)

Seriously, at the time, it was encouraging. If he could do this GREAT BIG THING, there was no reason why I couldn't do something on a smaller scale. In fact, it proved that there should be, could be some way of doing it.

I don't know when or why I put that dream away.


But, as my life is slowing and sorting itself out, and there is time again, I am finding this dream goal once again.

 My sisters, part of the "Life" that whittled the dream away from me, are now giving it back.
Aren't they wonderful? Am I not lucky?

I want to go there.
I want to see that.

Somehow, I will.
Come hell or high water; come junk cars and minimal budget; come life or death.
Come life or death.
death. the ultimate journey.

DISRESPECT?

Tammy and Hazel, 1988

My stepdaughter Hazel died, heroin overdose. She was found, hospitalized, and on life support for several days.

No one told her sisters on her father's side that she was in the hospital, that she was dying, that she had died.

A friend of mine told me, and I had to tell them. (Disrespectful)

This is the sister that they -- all of Rex's family -- turned the town of Bethel upside down trying to find her so she could say goodbye to her daddy. When she got there she was more interested in zipping up her boyfriend's pants than spending time with her dad. They also just vanished from the hospital without telling anyone. We spent some time looking there, too. (Disrespectful on their part, don't you think?)


After the original news was published, Hazel was listed as the beloved daughter of her mother and her mother's 99th husband. (That number is hyperbole, not fact.)

Hazel's real father, who died without her presence, was not mentioned in the original obituary.

As if he had never existed

As if he had never been part of her life. (Disrespectful.)



I took our girls to her funeral.

If Hazel's other half sister, who in my opinion suffered the greatest loss, or her mother even spoke to my daughters, it was only in passing. (Disrespectful)

Our girls mingled, and my older daughter was asked why she was there; who was she to Hazel. (Disrespectful)
(And who the heck does that at a funeral, unless it's by invitation only?)



We sat in the back row for the service.

My daughter took her phone from her daughter (age 6) who had started playing music instead of a card game on it. She was holding it in her hand. She didn't think the child's choice of music was respectful or appropriate.

Bedamned if some blonde woman (NOT a member of the immediate family) didn't chew my daughters out about how "disrespectful:"they were for having their phones out! (Disrespectful)

I wish to hell I had known what Blondie was saying! I would have told her a thing or two about DISRESPECT! (Not to mention common courtesy and a side serving of 'mind-your-own-business.)

My girls had lost a sister, too, and were treated as if they came in off the street to get warm.

If that isn't disrespectful, what is?

Sick and Sad

I finally got a job, started it, was doing well enough to be offered extra hours and -- after I accepted the etra hours, I got sick. I went to the Emergency Room and got medicines and went back to work for those extra hour days.
Not the best plan, but I had said I would do it, so I did it.
But by the time the time was done, I was dragging, and went to the doctor.
Who put me off work for the next five days.

Who gets sick like that? Babies? Old people?
I am neither, although I often feel very, very old.
Being widowed, losing my caretaker role, being unemployed (maybe unemployable) are all aging factors.

Being free of caretaking, being employed, I hope will be freeing. Will restore some youth, some joy, some energy.

So, I got sick.
Boo!

Seems to be a family thing going on. A curse upon our house, or something bad written in the heavens. A  curse upon us!

One sister had bleeding issues back at Thanksgiving and ended up with a hysterectomy in April.
She is doing much better these days -- even has energy to take walks for fun.

Another sister, more recently, fell and hurt her back. It has just come to light that she actually broke a bone in her back. She's still walking and stuff, although it's been painful for her -- but the broken bone isn't even the cause of her pain and discomfort!
She is, ever so slowly getting better.

Bronchitis, even the ever-lasting kind, looks like a walk in the park (for fun) after those experiences.

I'll get better, too.

After all, it's in the stars.