My Friend Rebs

This weekend my friend visited me. She's quite lovely. Inside and out. A slender creature of undeniable beauty with a passion for terrible television shows and Young Adult novels.

I took her adventuring. She found driftwood and sea shells. We saw an owl. This was the first time I'd seen an owl and it was amazing, but because I only had my phone camera the picture came out unexceptional. No, really. This is the picture of the owl I saw:

Like I said, unexceptional. I assure you, the actual bird sighting itself was far more exciting.

Anyhow, it meant a lot for Rebs to come over and visit. As some of you may know, I relocated about a year and a half ago, leaving my friends and family on the mainland. I didn't just move for a boy. I came for a change of scenery and to fulfill the undeniable desire I had to leave the city. Even though I am not far from my friends or family, about four hours including a ferry ride, I sometimes feel a bit alone over here. Not lonely, though. Never really lonely.

It's funny how life can get in the way of what's important, like friendships and road trips and eating nachos for dinner. Sometimes all you need is to invest a few days into someone you love. This was my weekend to do so.

We reminisced about our Ireland trip. How we drove to Montana in one day (1281 KM). And road tripped down to San Francisco on a whim. We gossiped about the people we used to work with and the stories we've thought up. Movies were watched. Television critiqued. Tea sipped. Food devoured. Laughter and tears released. And a serious friendship reboot was given.

It's true friendships can end, but the most important ones are always there. Even if you move away. Or don't speak for awhile. When you reconnect, it's just like it always was: awesome.

I'll Take Care Of You

For the most part, I don't mind playing the grown up. I don't mind taking care of the bills and being the one with good credit. Usually, I won't balk at making phone calls or getting groceries. I will spend my whole day off doing chores.

Lately, though, I want a break.

A step away.

For someone to take care of things for me.

Is that too much to ask for?

If I find myself with an extra couple hundred of dollars, I put that money on my debt. I don't splurge. I don't buy myself gifts. Not extravagant ones. Because I know what is needed and what is wanted.

And needs are important. Needs are what keep us sheltered, fed and clothed. But while I focus on the needs, other people don't. They will spend money freely when they have it, then panic at the end of the month as they scramble to get their rent together.

Today, I am frustrated.

I filled the gas tank on the truck. Because it had to be done.

Like HAD to be done. It was on empty.

In some ways, I am super grateful for being the one who gets shit done. For being the nurturer. Being the one who knows how to take care of things. It's good, right? To be able to divide my money. To pay my bills. My mortgage. Ensure the gas is filled. Pick up groceries for all the dinners I plan.

But man, it gets tedious.

Don't get me wrong. I am lucky that I have money to divide. That I have good credit. Equity, whatever that accounts for. But sometimes, I want to be the one to spend frivolously and not even worry about the consequences. Except, there are always consequences. It's a simple truth that will never go away. I will never forget it!

You see, I've worked really hard all my life. I've helped a lot of people. And I have always towed my own line. It's frustrating when people don't get that. I've been doing this for myself since I was 17 years old and I want to protect what I have created. The life I have built. And it's sad when the people who should get it, who should understand why it's so hard for me to share my life, just don't.

And that's it, isn't it?

When you are on your path and someone is with you, then you should drop those walls and share your life. That's my struggle. It's what I have a hard time with. And maybe that's why I feel as though I am doing this alone. I know what my problem is.

It's hard, you know. Being an adult. It's stressful. I don't recommend it.

Dear Mom:

Today, I miss you.

It's Mother's Day and all over the world there's brunches and poorly made cards being handed out. I don't have a card for you. Or flowers. And I won't get to see you. Not in person. Though, I do hope you pop up on Skype later.

I already talked to Dad. He said you were sleeping. That's one thing I will always remember about you. How you loved to sleep in. Some moms wake up at the crack of dawn and make breakfast. I remember being quite in the mornings to let you sleep. It's a nice memory. Besides, we were old enough to fix our own damn breakfasts.

There are a lot of things I think about when I sit down with you on my mind. Like right this minute, I am remembering how you used to lie on the floor and stretch your legs above you. I used to try to do it too. But, I couldn't. I remember those moments.

I know we have fought. What daughter hasn't battled it out with their own mother? It's almost a prerequisite for growing up, I guess. And I know, even now, I get short with you and temperamental. But that doesn't mean, not even in my most bitchy moments, that I don't love you. And appreciate you.

And miss you.

It's weird being over here. Sometimes I feel so supremely detached, but I am thankful I have you and this computer. The times we have talked in the last couple of months, how interested you are in this latest novel of mine, your encouragement. It means so much. You have no idea.

I love that I can swear when I talk to you.

That I don't have to pretend to be someone I am not.

There are mother/daughter relationships that are surface relationships. Not ours, though. I honestly think of you as one of my friends. One of the longest friendships I have ever had. You are someone I can tell anything to, even if it is something that is highly inappropriate, or a piece of information you really didn't need to know. But you don't judge me. You let me be me. And it's okay that I'm weird and like pirates and zombies.

Thank you for accepting me. I mean, I don't know if this is who you wanted me to become. It's probably unlikely that you looked down at the baby version of myself and said, "I want this girl to love horror movies and be an obsessive music nerd." Still, I hope I haven't disappointed you. I want you to be happy with me. Proud, even.

Last night, I couldn't really sleep, and I started thinking about you. Remembering these random little things from way back in the day. Like your macaroni and cheese, how you put Cheese Whiz in it. How you put ketchup in your spaghetti sauce. The Spearmint gum you used to chew, that smell still reminds me of you. Watching you put your make up on. The scent of your makeup bag. And that song you used to sing, the French one, this one:


So today, I miss you. And I wish you were a little closer to me so I could hug you and tell you I'm glad you're my mom.

I love you.