Since I’ve quiled a heartfelt entry. We’re here! Surviving Kentucky, sickness and all. Yes, we’ve all been sick, but the weight I feel lifted off my shoulders…knowing I’ve got family nearby…I had great friends nearby in Tennessee but I felt a friend can only carry so much responsibility, sigh, relief. If I die in a car accident on the way home from work here my mother will be called, the boys will go to my brother and sister-in-law. Here, I can rest easy knowing if I get called to work late it probably won’t cost me $40 to have someone pick up the boys. This has been tested, I got a nice introductory happy hour only to hear a comment made from my boss about his daughter now wearing a training bra…awkward.
Aside from that a dear friend of mine, Sharon, said she hoped I’d feel as though I should have made this move long ago. The truth is, I don’t have granite, I don’t have a fenced in yard for the dogs, I don’t have hardwood floors, in fact Molly and Bentley are pissing and shiting everywhere! I’d kick the fuckers to the curb if I could but I won’t, they’re too old and I actually love the bastards. I’ve got a neighborhood with sidewalks and I’ve still got my boys. We’re still altogether, my mother hasn’t been called because I’m dead, we’re here…I’ve got nothing to fucking complain about.
All of this happened seamlessly for a reason… the job interview, the offer, the house being sold so soon, my ability to secure a house here and kick my ex-stepdad out of my mom’s house (for a fucking good reason), the only 2 spots available at the local daycare, it all happened for a reason I believe, all of it! I’m not a very religious person or big believer in God but everything, everything! has been square peg, square hole. I’ve got some more soul-searching to do. I’ve got some people to thank (references and last minute stops by my house for a goodbye).
Dad would have been 59 this week. He died at 46. I’m 36…knowing if I had only 10 more years to live if I died at his age saddens me immensely. Saddens me immensely.