Okay, it just feels like the barrier reef, or it could feel like the barrier reef if I let it. Finally, at age 51, I am learning to keep my eye on the goal which in this case is taking three months to cycle from Key West to Canada along the East Coast Greenway.
1. A few days ago, my daughter called in tears, her car needs some major repairs. She loves to pour on the tears when she needs something from me (she is 22 years old and a mother). There went $875 I did not want to spend right now (or even later for that matter). I will be out of work for almost 6 months. But she's my daughter, sigh!
2. Yesterday, I get a call from Peter telling me that my mother called Michael and Diana's house and talked to Justin because Diana was sleeping (bad cold and a four month old baby in the house). Justin is my 8 year old grandson and my mother tells him not to wake Diana but when Diana gets up to tell Diana she is in the hospital. Justin tells Diana later, Diana calls Peter, Peter calls me. I have to hear fourth hand that my mother is in the hospital (she only lives 40 minutes away and my oldest son lives 5 minutes from her). She went in at 1 a.m., drove herself to the hospital when she should have called Michael to take her. The doctor tells me today it is congestive heart failure. Tests are being conducted. She will be 72 in March and the notion of having to move her into our house looms large and nauseating. But that won't stop me from leaving for three months, nor will her death. My parents never gave me any reason to miss them or be attached to them, you can read about this in my memoir when it hits the book shelves next year.
3. As you already know from previous post, I am out of work in two more weeks, and money will be tight. I love having two months to handle my life before I leave it for three months of cycling, but money is tight (yes, it deserves repeating). We will go in debt if we have to, but we are going on this trip. Did I mention money is a problem and soon to be more of a problem?
And there are plenty of little things, but you get the point.
My mother looks like my grandmother who died in her early sixties of a heart attack, diabeties, and obscene obesity. I look like my mother, younger and thinner (a tad bit, not nearly enough), but history will repeat itself if I let it the way my mother is letting it. She looks more and more like my grandmother, overweight, struggling to get around, and determined to actively ignore her health (depression anyone, self-destruction anyone (it runs in the family)). I don't say this lightly. Just this morning when I asked her why she could not give me details of what the doctor said, she said she did not want to know, that she would just take whatever medicine he gave her and that was enough for her. Everyone in my family has been or is self destructive using cigarettes, booze, food, overworking ourselves, and drugs for some time in their/our lives and unless something unexpected happens, I will be the last one standing, the oldest of three children, but the last one standing.
We are going on this trip and somehow, I assert, it will all work out. At least for me (for Peter, too, but I am considering my immediate family when I make this comment, comparing my life to that of my parents and siblings).
Somehow, I assert, it will all work out.
