Let it be Known

I need to document this moment.

I feel hopeful.

These past few months have been a long series of frustrations, general malaise and (dare I say it?) depression.

This is a time of transition. I've spent the last few years bumming around, novel job to novel job, picking up various skills like farming, mechanical know-how, bits of languages, cooking...

I've travelled, taught myself to knit, become SCUBA certified, rode bikes drunk around the big city in the middle of the night with dozens of like-minded people. I've worked to "get out the vote." Developed long standing and endearing relationships with lots of children. Watched the family get bigger. Watched my father's health deteriorate and stabilize, deteriorate and stabilize. Helped P with home-brewing. Hell, met P and created a relationship that might just last awhile.

I've had it good. Really, I have. After a long, abusive and unstable childhood I created my own fantastical early adulthood filled with adventure and dreams-come-true. It has been all I had hoped for during those awful childhood hours where I had no control.

But now comes the other part of those hoped-for childhood ambitions: a stable life. A solid relationship. A house with a huge garden, a magical, whimsical one if I have my say. A fulfilling career. A conscientious approach and a modest ecological footprint.

With the recent failing job search, a dwindling bank account, a tough economy, and little education I've felt as if Part II is impossible. It has seemed as if those long, bony fingers of fate were going to wrap their iron fists around my dream and send me packing to McDonald's with an application waving desperately in my hand. "You've had your fun," the voice would cackle, "And you're mine now! The apple never falls far from the tree and you're going to end up just like those who birthed you."

My father has been divorced six times. He elderly and ailing, living alone in a sparse trailer on property owned by my aunt and uncle. He cannot drive or even walk to the mailbox. He owns little and survives on the grace of 26 medications daily. It seems he's lucky to have served in the armed forces. At least his substantial medical bills are covered.

My mother has struggled every day of her life. By some force or another everything seems more complicated in her presence. Her motherly vibe isn't one of peace and stability, it is one of turbulence and interminable frustration. Everything is a battle in her life, and they can never be won or simply lost. She must fight, continually.

I want something different, something more. And thus far I've been able to realize my hopes. But until this moment, anything more has seemed a pipe dream. But this is where I come to this moment.

I have hope. For the first time in months I feel a flickering, a burning, a daring to think bigger.

It must be documented. I will need to return to this moment. I've made it so far and I can make Part II happen. I will.