Poundage

It’s 1:30 AM before I can go out into the backyard and buzz off the beard.

It’s 3:30 AM and I’m checking the weight limits for luggage on the airline.

It’s 4:00 AM and I’m trying to figure out what I can leave out.  It’s not like I have practiced outfits, put together looks; this is a crap shoot.

It’s late and dark and I am alone in a jammed basement trying to make magic happen, but I all I want to do is crawl up and cry. My sister told me that she can feel the pain & frustration in me, but is then amazed at how I drop that to serve my parents in a positive way. It’s actually a trick that any long time hotel employee can pull off. It’s not always fun serving people, but service must be done.

I’m so tired and I fear that this trip will cost my slim resources more than it will replenish them. That’s a constant fear, coming from experience. But signs are good and it is the best bet I can imagine.

Still, it’s very late and I am so tired and there are so many hurdles and I just want to collapse.

Carry that weight, carry that weight a long time.

One thought on “Poundage”

  1. It feels crappy abandoning my post.

    But I can’t be that servant and also be out there.

    Hard.

    People just want me to be happy, but the obligation to be this suspect & trepidatious makes acting happy just too much

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