New Shoes

My new Reebok Princess sneakers came in the mail. I threw out the old ones I brought with me to Florida.

To say I’m beyond ready to go home is an understatement.

Even with securing the volunteer position, RJ is threatening the reverse curfew.

The resentment is high my friends, and towering.

As strange as it sounds, I miss the brisk air of Illinois. I certainly miss how the seasons change. I miss the freedom and liberty to move about without having to tell everyone where I’m going and what I’m doing.

The endless hurdles and hoops I have to jump through are staggering and a bit too much. It was one thing at the clinic when I felt like needs were being met, but the half-in/half-out-ness of it all is daunting. The quota of meetings. The expectations. The anticipation and anxiety of moving around in a strange city I don’t know, and, quite frankly, don’t want to be in.

My ersatz kid sister is wondering about my moods. She’s childish when it comes to understanding that they have little to do with her, except in the scenario when she does make them about her (as she did last night, during the group therapy meeting, which I took great ire with);

She claims I can be myself, but no, not like that.

It’s exhausting.

Meanwhile, she’s been neglecting the Guinea pigs leaving me to handle the brunt of the work.

Again, it’s exhausting.

I want to go home. I miss my dad and my brother. I miss my sister-in-law and nephews.

I miss my walks. I miss my small town. I miss my records, my books, and my closet.

I love Illinois in the fall. Seems how I’ve gotten over my strange fear of intersections, I might take a long walk to all my favorite places that I used to neglect before. Especially since I’ve got my new tennis shoes.