Great indoors
Apparently since my father's passing, I'm never supposed to take even the shortest weekend vacation or ask any family member to look after my mom for four days.
I love my mother but this isn't fair.
A friend in need
Today I offered to loan a car of ours that we almost never use to a friend who needed it. Her car had been totaled in a wreck that wasn't her fault; she'd been broadsided by a man who slammed into her while he somewhat recklessly attempted a left turn.
And so all day I guess she thought she had the ride that she really could use. But my mother nixed that, saying that if our friend had another wreck in our car -- even one that wasn't her fault -- we could be sued. That's true. Still, I hate that my friend spent the day getting her hopes up only to have one phone call send her right back to square one.
Quality time
None of my friends ever ask me to hang out. I don't know why. They just don't. Maybe it's because metro Atlanta has become so huge and sprawled out that they just don't feel like driving to meet up with me. Maybe it's because they don't feel like rearranging their schedules. Maybe it's because they don't feel like hanging out with me.
Whatever the reason I never get invited to go do things anymore, the result is the same: I spend lots of time alone. Sometimes it isn't so bad because I have time to go jogging, to think, to read, to work crossword puzzles, to enjoy quiet, to listen to music, to relax. But oftentimes I'm thinking that I miss seeing my friends, being part of a group, spending time with other people. Except for work, I don't get to socialize much and work is work. It's not the same.
Southern exposure
It's cold here in Georgia this week, a reminder that winter isn't finished with us yet.
Soon spring with its unsettled storms will lay claim to our days and the heat of summer will thicken our night air, giving us no respite for months. Autumn comes far too late and departs all too quickly.
And winter hangs around, extending its chilly hand to us each year and we slap it away like a leper. Then come August we long for even the slightest hint of anything to release us from the sweltering.
Happy Birthday to you
Today is my daddy's 77th birthday and I'm sad that he's going to be the only person in our family who won't be here for it.
