I hate money. It makes people evil. It makes people want. And wanting isn’t good. Needing is good. Wanting is bad. Why can’t I just pay my electric bill with some of my clothes? I have some nice clothes. Well made. Why can’t I pay my credit card bill with all that crap I have in my garage that I don’t use anymore? I don’t even remember what is in all those boxes out there. I’m sure there’s something worth trading for a months worth of water? Right, Water company?? There’s just never enough money. We barely get by every month, but now it’s almost Christmas and I have to try to figure out how I’m going to afford presents. Yeah. I’m trying to sell products for a company whose name I won’t mention, but that’s not going over so well since no one else has ANY extra money either!! WHAT THE HELL!!! I had to borrow money from my mother. I’m a grown ass woman. Borrowing money from my mom. Right before Christmas. Pathetic. The circumstances that have me and my family in this spot are too many to list. I’m exhausted just thinking about it all. I know it will be easier soon. I know that the circumstances will change and things will get better. Bills will get paid. On time even, how about that! I won’t have to feel my stomach turn itself into a knot every time the phone rings. Could be a bill collector. They can just leave a message. I don’t need some stranger telling me I need to pay my bill. Yeah, I know I do. But knowing it, doesn’t make the money magically appear in my bank account. Oh, how I try and try to only focus on the good things in life. Lots of blessings I have. Lots of things to be thankful for. All kinds of wonderful people in my life. Embrace the love. I have to keep reminding myself of that love. If I could pay the cable company in love, I’d be watching Oprah right now.
The Halloween that once was October 31, 2008
My husband and I are taking our daughter Trick or Treating for her first time today. We’re not doing the door-to-door thing; we’ve recently moved into this neighborhood, and other than occasionally chatting with a couple of our neighbors, we really don’t know anyone around here. So, we’re taking our daughter to a nearby venue that puts on an annual Halloween party for kids. Part of me is excited for this begining of our family’s Halloween tradition, but part of me is saddened that my daughter will probably never have the same kind of Halloween experiences I had as a child.
When I was growing up my family lived in the country, a few miles outside of a very small town. My parents had to drive my brother and I around to nearby neighbor’s houses to Trick or Treat; people my family had known for many, many years. We would also drive to my grandparent’s houses, several miles away.
After my parents divorced, my mom moved to a nearby city. It was there that my brother and I were able to go door to door on Halloween. It was fun because it was new. But looking back on it all now, my fondest memory of Trick or Treating was receiving the homemade popcorn balls from one of those family friends out in the country. Even as a young child I appreciated and enjoyed the simplicity of that lovely popcorn ball. My family was always welcomed into that home where we would chat for a few minutes about our costumes, and the recent goings-on at school. Then the grown-ups would do their own chatting while my brother and I chose the best looking popcorn ball from the bowl.
I romanced the idea of creating my own homemade treat to hand out this year. That desire was won over by a pesky little voice in my head telling me that no parent would allow their child to consume something that wasn’t tightly wrapped and purchased from the grocery store. After pondering that thought for a while, I have come to the conclusion that it’s actually my own fear that I am projecting onto everyone else. I am the someone who wouldn’t allow my child to eat even the prettiest homemade treat from someone I didn’t know…so why would anyone else??
My spirit has been broken! Oh how I long for that sense of community again! Even living out in the country, where “next-door” was a half-mile away, my family had stronger ties to our neighbors than I have now living FEET away from my neighbors.
My daughter’s Halloween traditions will not be a carbon copy of my own, but I hope that when she is my age looking back on her experiences, she will have memories that evoke the same kind of joy and nostalgia that I have for my own memories.
