Time To Leave

D-day. Time to leave. I’m sitting in front of the computer, and for the past few moments I’ve just been staring at the screen. I’m depressed on so many different levels that I don’t know if I can explain it.
I’m ashamed of myself for wasting an entire week, for one thing. I look around the house at all the things I could have been working on. What did I do? I played Star Wars Galaxies, for the most part. Sure, I cut the grass and cleaned out the gutters on Saturday, but that was the exception to the rule. We’ll never get ahead unless I can pull my head out of my ass and commit to something worthwhile.
We didn’t spend much time with Mama while we were home. That eats away at me. We have such a strange dynamic with her now. It’s like she tries to stay out of our way. Several times last week I thought we were going to watch a movie or something and Mama wandered off. But that’s a cop-out. We were here for a while week, and I can’t point to one occasion where we specifically spent time with Mama. Now she’s at the beach. It probably says a lot about how damaged my relationship with Mama is that she left for the beach with Sue’s family Sunday morning and has not as much as called us. She probably thinks we don’t care if she made it down there okay or not.
And, of course, there’s the inevitable leaving. I never look forward to getting back on the road. But this time is different. I feel like a big cloud is hanging over me. Not so much because we have to drive again, but because it doesn’t seem like we’re very involved in our own lives. The days just slip away and all we do about it is flip the calendar to the next month. It says a lot that I switched the wall calendar in our bedroom while we were home. It hadn’t been changed since May.
My God. I feel like I’m a spectator of my own life.

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