Grandpa

       My grandfather was a good man.  He was polite, he never swore, and he believed in things like honesty and integrity.  He was a man strong in his beliefs, whether they were about religion, this country, or even about family.  My grandfather believed in the importance of good manners, like opening doors for ladies, writing thank you letters, taking your hat off at the dinner table, and a good firm handshake.  Throughout his life he was a hard-working man.  He served our great country in World War II, and after doing a report about him in 8^th grade, I was awed and very proud to have a grandfather who would stand up and protect our nation. 

       As a child some of my fondest memories were collecting golf balls and driving his golf cart in Arizona.  I remember he always has peppermints or butterscotch candies hidden in the golf cart for a special treat.  Every day on my drive to kindergarten I would see grandpa walking his dog Tara, and he would have her wave to me as we drove by.  And I swore that he knew magic, when he could make stoplights change from red to green simply by saying, "change".  It took me years to figure out his secret.  I fondly remember how proud he was when I made the golf team in high school.  Right up to the end of his life he would ask how my game was coming along and offer suggestions and share my joy when I had a good round. 

     Ever since my grandmother passed away we spent a lot of time talking on the phone.  It can get lonely living so far away from my loved ones, and he missed my grandmother, so it was always nice to talk to someone who understood that a phone call from a friendly voice could really break up the silence of an evening.  We both really grew to look forward to those Sunday night calls.  He would listen to me talk about my job, and I would listen to him talk about what he had eaten that week.  For the rest of my life I don't think I will ever meet a man that loves food so much.  I don't think he ever met a meal he didn't like.  During those calls we would talk about family, about golf, and about my grandmother.  He'd tell me about a particularly exciting game of UpWords, or we would just talk about the world.

        I've known my grandfather all of my life, but in the last few years I really began to understand him.  He valued education, he knew the importance of taking pride in what you do, and above all else he believed that family is the most important thing there is.  I am very thankful that I had the opportunity to know him, the understanding to respect him, and the chance to love him.   He was a good man and I will miss him very much.

Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.  At least I got it right, but I still feel foolish.  After all that time when you came back into my life again I was happy.  I felt your absence for every day you were gone.  You said it would be different, you said how much you'd grown, how much you'd changed, how wrong you'd been.  Most of all said you'd stay.  But those were lies.  You are the fairest of weathered friends.  Now that winter has come, you've flown south again.  I hate to say it, but you were right.  This time is different.  I don't miss you anymore.  When the phone rings I don't hope that it's you.  My heart doesn't hurt when I hear our songs.  I don't long to share a joke with you anymore, because I no longer miss your laugh.  Now you are just another name on a growing list of long lost friends.  I understand now, though I didn't quite before, that I am just an intermission, a commercial, something to do in the meantime for you.  When you are lonely, I am there.  If you are forsaken by some lover, or down on your luck in life, I am your girl.  When you are happy, you don't need me.  But oh, when you are not I am you favorite antidepressant.  I should have learned to dread your happiness because it always brings the irritation, the second-guessing, the condescending speeches, and the inevitable moving on.  Then you toss me aside like an old toy on Christmas morning, until another one breaks your heart and you slither back.  Do I even have to say don't bother this time?  Maybe you've finally found happiness.  Maybe she'll be the one.  Maybe all those things you said to me are true, and you are the good and I am the bad.  But maybe I know you better than that, and maybe deep down you can see the truth.  But do hear this: I am truly sorry I've wasted my time.  You are not a friend to me, and you can choke on all those self-righteous words you spew.  Don't call.  I've lost your number.  And there's really nothing left to say. 

It seems that I'm always waiting for the floor to give way beneath me.  Most of the time it does.  When I'm wrong it doesn't matter much anyway, because I've already screwed up what I've been doing by waiting impatiently for something to go awry.  Lately I've had no such luck.  This time at least, I would like to have been proven wrong.  But I wasn't.  I was right.  This is one of the very few times I derive little to no pleasure from an "I told you so".  Why did you do it?  Perhaps it's the universe's little joke on me.  Payback for all the mistakes I've made, bad things I've done, and lies I've told.  Maybe it's karma calling to say, "don't worry, you'll get yours."  Either way, it doesn't matter.  I don't care if I deserve it or not.  I don't give a shit if I have any right to feel this way.  I don't even care if she was the Queen of fucking England and by sleeping with her you could bring peace to the Middle East.  I'm just tired, and my chest hurts.  That deep ache that makes you simultaneously feel like your suffocating and about to throw up.  It's only been a day but I already feel the door closing.  The walls are going back up, and hopefully they'll be back to stay.  Sometimes I feel that the only way to keep you around is to shut you out.  Who knows anyway?  I've always been bad at keeping my promises, and you were always very good at finding a way inside.  I just get so sick of all this waiting.  I've been waiting so long for you it seems.  Waiting for you to come back, waiting for you leave again, waiting for something to give so you can be with me, so I can be with you, but nothing ever comes. 

Selfish

How much should other's happiness influence your decisions?  At what point should you be selfish?  When does doing what's best for you outweigh the greater good and vise versa?  Maybe I am not the type of person who ultimately strives to please others.  But maybe, just maybe, it's that I see in the end there is no way to please them all, so why not do what I want?  Selfish, perhaps?  Smart, maybe.  Or could it be just another loser take all situation?

Lately my thoughts have been plagued by the idea of doing the right thing for those I love, and doing what seems right for me.  In reality there is no real right thing, nor can I fairly judge what is in fact best for me.  I do not have the gift of foresight, which makes the ordeal even harder to read.  They want me to come home, or at least closer to home.  My friends down south and my family all vote that it is time I come back.  I have been resistant so far.  I am stubborn.  I like my life.  I don't want to change.  Deep down I secretly fear that going back would be a personal defeat.  Like I couldn't cut it on my own.  As if I had to go back to where life is safe and I am surrounded by those that can comfort and protect when life gets hard.  Isn't that why I stayed away?  I dislike the idea of giving up.  Now I know that none of this is true.  I have dealt with things on my own and prevailed.  Then what is it that still keeps me away? 

Recently a new reason to go back has entered my life; other's happiness.  Someone in my life is in pain.  Not physical, but emotional.  It would mean so much to her if only I were closer.  She says as much all the time.  Sometimes it seems that her unhappiness might go away if I was near by.  But in my heart I know that this is false.  Coming home won't fix her.  She might be happier, but my presence will not ultimately solve what is wrong in her life.  Maybe that is still me being selfish.  If she was sick there wouldnt be a question in my mind, but shes not.  She would give anything for me, why can't I just do this one thing for her?  Perhaps it is my fear.  Fear that I can't fix her, that everything will still be the same.  Fear that I might make things worse.  Fear that I don't want to be around when the shit hits the fan, if it ever does.  My instincts say stay as far away as you can.  Be that voice on the other end of the phone and nothing more.  Save yourself, because youre the only sure bet of saving anyone.  Selfish, I know.  But it was that very voice that made me leave six years ago.  That voice that begged my to chew off my leg to save myself, to save those I loved, to do what was best.  I trust that voice.  It was six years ago, but that's not so long ago, and in the end not much has changed.  If I go back it would just be so easy for things to go back to the way they were, and I can't take that.  Distance is a constant source of pain for me, but it is also the security blanket that helps me sleep at night.

Up here my friends all say I cannot go.  It would be too hard on them.  They say do what will make me happy.  Staying here will make me happy.  That is just their mouths saying they don't want any more change.  My friends down south say come home.  They miss me and want to get back to the way things were.  They are tired of all this change.  I cannot listen to any of them.  Even the ones I love most.  If I thought moving would make anything better, anyone better, I would.  But I don't.  Maybe that is me just being selfish again.  I see what I want to see because it is in my best interest.  Family is family and friends are friends, but I am me that I am the one that has to live with my life.  Selfishly I scream isn't my happiness what's really important?  But I don't even believe my words.  Happiness has nothing to do with it.  I would be happier close to my family.  I can be happy in this life I've carved out for myself.  Perhaps I could be even happier in Guam.  But this argument isn't about happiness; it's all about survival.  What do I have to do to survive?  Unfortunately I fear my decision won't make anyone happy.  But that's just me being selfish...

First- he gave me three all-so-attractive slashes on my arm and wrist- it looks like I seriously attempted suicide with a jagged rock blindfolded.

Second- he decided that his latest hiding spot is in a small crawl space (for very small boxes) in the ceiling above my washer and dryer- this means he decided to knock down everything that is already up there.)

Third- and most importantly- he fell behind my washing machine tonight.  Not actually as funny as it sounds.  He literally fell- lost his footing and fell.  (I watched him cling to the washer for a second and then he disappeared- tiny head, paws, and all behind the machine- it was a kitty version of cliffhanger.) It is such a tight fit that he couldn't jump back up, nor could he fit around the side.  I couldn't move the washer or dryer without possibly crushing him in the process.  (You can't tell a cat- stay to this side so you don't get squished.)  I then had to move the washer as far as I could to the side- chase him with a broom to get him within reaching distance, and pull him out by the scruff of his neck.  He wasn't thrilled about this rescue, or the whole broom thing.  He is about 15 pounds and my washer is also heavy, so I really wasn't pleased either.  I have a sneaking suspicion that if I ever fell behind the washer, he would not go to such lengths to save my ass.