Something you hope to do in your life.
I hope to get the hell out of the small town I’ve been stuck in for my entire life.
Shared custody has determined that I continue to reside in the same damn small town I grew up in. I love my children, and it was a happy sacrifice for many years… but I’m in the home stretch. My eldest daughter is in high school and when she graduates, we are both set free.
I’m counting the days until I can throw my snow shovel in the trash along with my Idaho plates. I appreciate the childhood I was blessed with, and the safety I was able to raise children in.
Who’s a girl gotta blow for an entire day of strangers? I realize that sounds a wee bit dramatic, but I would give a kidney to grocery shop, anonymously. I can’t even imagine the joy.
My Uncle recently relocated from Los Angeles, and listening to him talk about the traffic is hilarious.
F- I drove home at 9 o’clock on a Saturday night and didn’t see another fucking soul. Not a headlight from here to Canada. That’s when I realized I really did move to a quiet town.
He’s not exaggerating, and it wont be his last quiet drive home.
People complain aloud that I wouldn’t like Oregon because “it rains too much”, but its grey here from about December 1st- March 20th, which marks the beginning of mud season. I can’t plant safely outdoors, until May 15th at the earliest, and my garden has never frosted later than October 15th. It’s beautiful for a very small amount of time, and during the many cold, grey months… everyone has far too much time on their hands to discuss everyone elses business.
Seasonal restaurant business means half of the year, I live paycheck to paycheck. More like shift to shift, as a server, since the federal tipped minimum wage has not increased in 25 years. The closest college is further than I’m willing to risk driving in the winter as a single parent, but the second we escape this educational vacuum, I’m enrolling in school. I’m very good at what I do, but I count the seconds until I never have to take another drink order or hear about someone’s gluten intolerance.
History isn’t always helpful. Imagine how bad it sucks to constantly run into the same perverted creep you’ve been avoiding since high school, only to realize he has sons your daughters age. That’s my reality, and one I will not miss.
I want a museum, a college, a city library and a sea of unfamiliar faces. A fresh start in a strange place full of strangers. Ahhh.
I hope we are home sweet home somewhere else, in 3 years.
Categories: 30 Days of Truth