502 Bad Gateway
Please come and have a seat…now! I know you are busy and all but I have a few things that I need to get off of my chest before I grab a meat cleaver and start chopping away at someone. So please, have a cup of tea, and let’s talk. Ok, I lied, I am the one talking and I need you to listen.
First up, why is it starting to look like my 40’s are going to be an exact repeat of my 30’s? I mean sick parent? For real? We already did this and frankly I am just not in the mood. Oh, I remember how my 30’s started out, smooth sailing and then bam, Ma got that nagging cough that wouldn’t go away and I finally had to press her to go to the doctor. Her primary care physician was a moron, telling her she had pneumonia, of course I just sensed when Ma started coughing up blood that it was a bad scene. Of course we thought she was going to make it, but nooooo, you took her away from us, 5 weeks after I turned 31. So you see; I get a little testy about bad shit happening around my birthday. I swear I do.
These past years haven’t been easy at all, when Ma died, it seemed like the world just stopped for us. She was our light, our cheerleader, our joy. I admit though there are times I look at the seven year old and I feel I am looking at my mom. Did you send Mom back here as my daughter? I wonder about you.
The thing is life has been rough for Pops since Ma died, I mean didn’t you think about the fact that he had spent his entire adult life with Ma? They had 33 years together, not easy for a man to get over that and the fact that he has no interest in any other partners…wow, I wonder if the Man Unit would be like that if I die first. Of course at the rate we are going, I shouldn’t even joke about that since if I live longer than Ma did, I will party like it’s 1999 and I don’t care what year it is.
Anyway let’s get back to Pops; he has spent the past eight years learning how to be on his own. Thank goodness he is no longer using an entire bottle of bleach in a load of laundry. I mean from crying out loud he just learned how to make Jiffy cornbread to go with his Glory Greens (I know, I know, if Ma had a grave she’d be turning in it, think of Pops eating canned greens).
Seriously though for the first time since Ma died, life has been good for all of us, the rifts and disagreements have been put behind us. I was getting so hopeful and damn, you do this? Pops is sick…now? By the way, why is Pops aging so fast? Yeah, I know he’s been a hard living man, but last week when I saw my Pops, a man so bad-assed that Jim Croce’s Bad Bad Leroy Brown could have been about my daddy, I nearly lost it.
By the way, let me thank you since you did at least allow me to keep my shit together while I was in Chicago. I figure the college kid didn’t need to see his Mama losing her shit, though I hear he is quite worried about me. Universe, I don’t know…not sure how much longer I can keep it together to be honest.
I mean last week’s visit wasn’t a death blow to the budget but it’s clear I need to go as often as I can to help out the baby brother who is the only one out there to help Pops. Plus I just want to see Pops as often as possible. If nothing else you taught me with Ma’s illness is not to count on tomorrow. That and the fact the baby bro asked me to come right away is why I didn’t even stop to think about the costs. In fact as you know when I got back to Maine, I told the Man Unit that I will be going back again soon and he didn’t even blink. Never mind that come April 15, our taxes are due and once again, I didn’t save enough, so now the tax man is gonna be on my ass.
I mean isn’t it enough that I have to deal with the enormity of Papa’s situation? Why must it now be coupled with financial woes? Oh, by the way, I don’t appreciate you getting me all psyched to get some new freelance work only to now have that editor not even replying to my emails. Another reason, I hate writing on spec, like I have all the time in the world to write full length pieces only to get no response. I mean in between all this shit, I do still have an ever growing agency to run.
Oh, and I really don’t appreciate that I had to come home to the seven year old having the flu. I mean, the flu, really? But I guess you weren’t done having your fun with me, why did we fail our car inspection? How the fuck am I supposed to come up with $1500+ to get this car fixed? Do you really think this is a great time to max out my credit cards after working so hard to rebuild? I mean sure we could keep renting this mini piece of car but at $180 a week, that’s just going to put us back in the hole and after doing the budget tonight it’s clear that if we don’t get our car fixed ASAP, we are going to be screwed long term. Never mind that the costs of long term car rentals means there is no way I can get back to see Pops soon.
Look, I need a break, and I need it like yesterday. I had been toying with the idea of doing one of those online fundraiser thingies that people do, but let’s be honest no one gives two shits about my shit. I know that’s not completely true but fuck, I guess it’s a pride thing. Plus I don’t want to end up being skewered on that site that talks shit about bloggers. Then there is the fact that now so many people I know in real life read this blog, that the idea of having some Mom at my kid’s school looking at me with pity is just more than I can bear. I don’t know…I just know I need a break. So maybe you can make that editor contact me back and love my work or have some long forgotten relative send me a check.
Sometimes I wonder if I have been a fool, I have spent the past 16 years helping others but I feel like when I need help, it’s a wrap. I am starting to think I should have just stayed in sales and made oodles of cash at least then I wouldn’t have money woes on top of everything else.
I don’t know…are you even listening to me? Wait, where did you go…oh damn!
A sad, falling apart Black Girl in Maine