Home For The Holidays

Unlike or like many of you I was sober going into 2007. Instead of being surrounded by drunken, celebrating people I was sound asleep at my parent's house. I had a plane to catch the next day and I was in a town dominated by cornfields, so the best bet was to pack and sleep. Going home has always been therapy for me. More so than writing. It's easier to heed the advice of someone else instead of the voice in your head. It's also considered sane, but that's up for debate some days. It was great to wake up and not have to stumble into the shower as I'm accustomed to doing everday (or is it night) before I go to work. It was great to see a fridge full of more than a carton of eggs, expired milk, various condiments, DRINK, bottled water, some apples, a package of chicken breasts, whole grain wheat bread, ground chicken and ground turkey. It was great eating red velvet cake and Godiva chocolate for breakfast. Long story short, it was great to be home. For awhile, I didn't consider my parent's new place as that. To me home was back in Jersey. Home was a few blocks away from the high school I graduated from. Less than a half an hour from my grandparent's and aunt's houses. I guess I still had that idea that home was a building. This weekend I found out home was a feeling. Guess Luther was right. What I also found out was to not expect sympathy from my mom anymore. Don't get me wrong, she loves me to death and please believe the feeling is mutual. But when it comes to dishing out sympathy she ain't having it. And you know what? I really thank her for it. If she and my dad still coddled me, I wouldn't make any type of forward progress in life. I forget how the conversation started, but I know mom was cooking while we talked. I was telling her how frustrated I was with my job and I was with not being I felt I should be. She stood there and heard me bitch and moan for a good 10-15 minutes. Then she looked me square in the face and said,"Well are you doing everything possible to get to where you want to be?" DAMMIT!!! She always does this! Naturally I said this to myself, because I'm not grown enough to let that slip up happen. Not in front of her at least. I looked her right back in the face, then looked down and to the side and mumbled. "No." And that's when the light came on. I know because I finally started being honest with myself. I haven't done enough to get out of this situation. I don't demand enough from the powers that be. I'm slowly becoming the main character of Ralph Ellison's book at my job. After we finished talking, I reluctantly told my mom she was right. She started grinning and told me she new she was and how she knew I hated how she was right all the time. I used to, but not anymore.