Settling Myself

I am moving soon, and it’s on my mind.  I traveled through the internet today looking for a ripe house for the right price. A place big enough for me and the girls and a band.

I moved away from the music scene abruptly, without too deep of forethought when Fern was born. I was embroiled in some really tangled relationship issues, and packed up the Glenwood house in a muddied rush. My hope was to either save my two parent family or escape the two person parental party all together.  I left with the girls and their Daddy, Greensboro blowing in the wind.  We settled 90 miles east to mend our tattered family tree.

Let it be said that demons follow where you let them.

My family fell apart on Valentine’s Day, 2012.  The girl’s Daddy left in the dark morning hours, drunk and confused, cold, silently while we slept. We woke up, he wasn’t there.  He was gone. Again.

If the angry devil leaves, listen, angel. Lock your door. When he calls to say he’s sorry, don’t go get him no more.

I’ve been working on my single, work at home mama kick for about 16 months or so now?  In my hometown, near my parents, 90 miles away from the emotional drag-pole drama of my double baby daddy.    But, dag on, do I ever miss my old life. I miss my friends.  I miss my band.  I miss the burgers.  I miss the ability to be able to walk in one direction down a sidewalk for more than 15 minutes without reaching the end of town.  This town I’m holed up in is small, ya’ll.  And I am itching to get back to the feeling of my complete self.  Self is what you make it. The self I’m living with here is seeking the parts it lost in a jumble of transition when I left Greensboro.  I shed a big old piece of soul when I motored away from that fine town.

So.  The house hunt has begun. I’m looking at a big, old, four bedroom place in my old neighborhood on Monday.

glenwoodhouse

I’ve got a thread to sew in that town, and I’ll be moving in a month. I’m feeling kinda proud.  I’m not putting it off.

I’ve been debating the move for about seven or eight months now.  I knew that if I was going to move, it was going to have to be before the start of kindergarten. The only thing keeping me tethered to this town is my parents. My Mama and Daddy are old.  My Daddy is sick, in the late stages of Parkinson’s Disease.  I’ve battled the guilt of leaving him, and the thought of it now makes me tear up.  My Daddy is a wonderful wonderful man, and Parkinson’s Disease is a fucking asshole. I don’t know how much longer he has to live.  Not long, is what my brother says.  I don’t know how much longer my Mama can take care of him by herself.  I feel ugly for taking myself and the girls away from them.

But I’m not happy here. I feel like my life is stalled.  It’s been a year and a half since I stumbled out of the city, and I’m about to sneak on back in.  Start me up!

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