yellow rose by sume
Sometimes, I think it would be nice to be a tree or a stalk of wheat. Seems like I’m always moving, always saying goodbye just when I’ve gotten to like a place. I don’t know why that is. Even a stalk of wheat puts down roots during its brief lifetime. I can’t help but be a little envious. Home. Home.
Then again, the thought of being born and dying in the exact same location without ever moving sounds unbearably dull. I’ve always liked to travel, see new places and experience new things. The sad thing is that even when I want to stay, something always happens. Time to go. Time to go.
By the time this publishes, I should be well on my way back to Texas, back to face my demons, back to finish some things so I can begin others. Time to rectify. Time to rectify. It’s difficult to go into the details of why I have to go. Those will have to come later. I guess it really doesn’t matter much in view of the larger picture.
The point is that circumstances feel like they’re converging into a wave. It’s shoving me backwards to deal with a variety of things I should have long ago. History cannot, should not be irretrievably erased. I always was one to kill multiple birds with one stone. Why stop now?
Back to Mom, back to Dad, back to Walnut Grove…
Actually, the part about Walnut Grove (Little House on the Prairie reference) isn’t entirely true. Rather than going back to my old “hometown”, I’ll be situated out in the sticks, just outside of a smaller (700+), slightly whiter (92%) town. (even more more Walnut Grove-ish). Forced isolation from a TRA’s birth ethnicity is cruel and unusual punishment.
The TRA in me wants to scream, “This is NOT happening! WTF are you doing?!” I swore I’d never put myself and especially my children in that kind of environment. I’d rather die. Yet, here I am, forced back into the fold because it’s either that or spiral down from limbo into something worse.
Patterns. The last 20 years seem to be little more than a series of dilemmas – having to choose between the lesser of two evils.
I know. I’m whining. It’s hard not to despite knowing it could always be worse. Be grateful. Be grateful. I also know that part of it is my fault and the result of my bad choices. Sometimes, life happens and then you’re faced with a choice. There is no going forward until I go back and deal with things. Even more importantly, I have to think of the kids. They’ll have what they need from grandparents who, despite everything, love their grandchildren. Love is not enough. Love is not enough.
At least they won’t be the “only ones”. They’ll have each other and they’ll have me. They’ll have stability and security. Better off. Better off. And it’s not going to be like this forever (I hope). Nothing lasts. Nothing lasts.
I’ll be away for a while. In the meantime, my posts are on autopilot.