Somethings Strange & Meant to-be

 I have always believed in magic and things that we cannot see. I have always known that spirits are real and it's always terrified me. Knowing something is real and true doesn't always make it more comfortable to behold. Yes, there's comfort in the familiar but somethings will never be that familiar. 

I can't believe it. 20 years ago it was my 17th summer. I felt so close to womanhood that I played the woman card as much as could and that summer I felt like I invented some sort of sport out of "extreme dating". Filling out an old diary of dates for every night of the week so I never ate dinner alone. Tasting my new found freedom in choosing who I spent my time with and where I went with my new leniency in rules that comes with the territory of growing up. I worked as a bus girl at restaurant downtown. It was the last summer of innocence for many as September 11th was still yet to be but also dangerously close. During the summer of 2001, I still called boys on the landline telephone, my zebra finches giving away their phantom caller during "hang-up prank calls". I picked dandelions with my bestfriend and made flower crowns before they were cool to wear at Coachella. I smoked marlboro lights as fruit flavoured vapes for teens was still decades away. Y2K had come and gone. Things were stirring underneath that we had no clue about. Goddess bless my coming-of-age sans social media. 

I know I must be some sort of witch because I've manifested many great things for myself out of seemingly thin air. 14 summers ago I saw a boy on the television on the other side of the world and I decided to make him mine. Now he is my husband. I talked about going to college in California for music in the 4th grade and although I didn't study music, I did go to college in San Francisco and lived there for a decade. 10 summers ago I graduated, receiving my Nutrition Assistant certificate. I have made wonderful things happen through hard work and brilliance. I have also paid the price. We all know I'm mentally ill and can we just call it even at that? I am sad as fuck and I can't have babies but boy my life has been peachy keen. 

I am still making things happen for myself and changes are happening as we speak. I watch others return to Michigan everyday and the magical, mystical land here welcomes her kin back into her fold. Everyone is leaving big cities post-pandemic and I can't help but feel that our state is a burried treasure in the mid-west, living comfortably without natural disasters that make world news year after year. Fresh water for the people abounds us. but never have I ever felt the pull more of this magical land than when I moved to Northern Michigan. When we moved to Traverse City in 2019, our happiness and health has increased ten-fold and then some. Never have we been happier as individuals, as a couple and as a team. Never have we been healthier and more successful in every front. 

Eddie and I have decided we are staying here, forgoing for now the adventure of owning our own funeral home downstate in West Michigan. As our current business thrives, I take a deep breathe of sweet relief knowing our little blue cottage will still be mine and I can continue tinkering with crafts, toys and dollhouses uninterrupted. I am discovering which things are for me and aren't for me. Always discovering what works and fits into my lifestyle what doesn't. No matter the amount of business we acquire I am having troubles becoming accustomed to being on-call to dash away to tragedies. Mortuary transport life...not quite the best fit for the severely anxious individual. but I did give it the old college try. So I find myself once again going through the depressing process of finding a place for part-time employment. I won't do full time. I don't need full time. but, I most certainty can't do nothing at all. Folks, I am not currently thriving. I need structure. 

Dammit. Why do I need structure? How do the wealthy house wives do it? Willing themselves by magic it seems to cardio classes and social events. I could sit in my house, perfectly still, and in an inclined position for DAYSSSS if you let me. I could sleep until 5pm every day and still be tired. The last several months I've realized that If I want, I can simply stop speaking altogether. This shouldn't be surprising. These traits are the very symptoms of depression! Why must I need structure? I also need to pick up where I left off before the pandemic when I was lining up volunteer gigs. Back to the capitalist cogs I go. Someday when our business is more than just a few months old, we'll have an office and to call home and a place where I can mingle with our staff tend to duties like a mother hen but for now. For now. I will look for work else where. No other single experience has driven me more creatively than being miserable at a job. So sad but true. How are you?

The gypsy that I was, my 17th summer, July 2001