Posted in Life, Writing

What Gives You Direction in Life?

Daily writing prompt
What gives you direction in life?

Sometimes my direction in life, especially when I was younger, was largely dependent on other people. I grew up in a stable household. My parents were married and still are and I grew up mostly in one house. We moved to another house when I was seventeen years old and that is where they are today. I have memories of the old house and I used to dream of buying it someday and fixing it up. It hasn’t worked out that way, at least not yet. I do not know what the future holds but I can’t see it happening anytime soon.

I lived in the same area went to schools in the town I grew up in. Sometimes I did envy the military brats or the people that would move from place to place. I never felt like I really got to start over. As a young adult I did move away a couple times but never very far. Furthest was two and a half hours away.

I did and still would like to see the world beyond my tiny corner. I do still have time to do that. I saw my life being different than it has turned out. I thought I would have a companion by now. Someone to share in adventures with, but that hasn’t turned out like I imagined either. Sometimes I feel like I am still waiting for something dramatic to happen to me instead of actively doing something.

I like writing but I haven’t managed to do anything with it. I need to go on an adventure myself and get going on living. I don’t want to have regrets when I look back on things and I want memories to cherish. I have been in a funk working too much and just surviving.

I’m hoping my vacation in July will be a sort of reset for me because I do need some direction. I feel I have been aimlessly floating down a lazy river but I am ready for something different.

When I look out the window here I see tons of cars going east and west. Tourist season is here in my small town. Businesses trying to get strangers to buy clothing and handmade crafts. I feel like they enjoy my town more than I do because to me it isn’t a travel destination but the place that is always here and always will be.

They get to see it with fresh eyes and I am a bit envious. It will get crazier in July when I will be gone. The tourists will still be here when I get back. They start to taper off in August, which makes September my favorite month here.

It is like a hidden month of summer that most don’t know about. You get all the perks of July and August without all the traffic and events. Seeing these people with their little shopping bags looking so carefree and happy makes me yearn for when it is my turn. I need to get away from this place and my job and breathe. I am getting burned out from work, and I need some time to recharge and be creative.

So what gives me direction? Sometimes it is the circumstances around me, family, employment, and survival, other times I crave more. I want to build and make something. Most of all I want people to share it with who value me and my thoughts. I guess love is a driving force for me. It is why I moved away and to where in the past. It is also why I moved back home. Love is a huge guiding force for me. Hope for the future and nature to renew my spirit are must haves for me.

Ideally I would be near a body of water. I like the sound even if it is just a creek. Water moving replenishes me. I need trees and blue skies. I couldn’t survive in a city permanently. I can visit, but I couldn’t just exist in a concrete jungle. I need green, and blue. I need life.

I go in the direction of being near my loved ones. But I also want to experience other places that I can learn and think about. I think sometimes you need to leave home to truly appreciate it even if it is only for a few days.

Posted in Life, Uncategorized

Taking Risks: Lessons Learned from a Failing Job

Daily writing prompt
When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?

The last time I took a risk? Technically I take risks everyday I get into my vehicle. Every time I go into an establishment. Is it a life or death risk? Most of the time no. Sometimes the risk is more to my pocketbook, or my peace of mind.

As far as major risks, one of the more recent ones would have been quitting my job at the bank to try my hand at being a domestic violence advocate. I didn’t work out as intended. I found out I wasn’t a very good advocate and sometimes things work out how they are meant to.

Things were stagnant at the bank, and I knew there were things I didn’t like about it. Mostly it was the insane pressure we were under to upsell to our customers. This wasn’t conducive to real customer service, which I prided myself on. As an institution, we patted ourselves on the bank for not needing a bailout during the housing crisis, only to be hit by a crisis of our own design. The fake account scandal. I am not naming the institution but I am sure you could figure it out if you wanted to.

I got out pre-scandal but was not surprised when it hit. I cashed in my 401k before it took the hit and used it as a down payment on my car. The risk was walking away from a job I know I could do for a job I had no experience in. I had practical experience as someone that experienced domestic violence first hand, but not as an advocate. I didn’t have the bureaucracy experience, the know how of navigating social nets and DSHS, and other institutions.

I was trained to be agreeable and not push the envelope from my childhood as a middle child and a shy girl that had trouble making friends. I wasn’t combative enough, or aggressive enough to really do much for my clients. The organization, which I won’t name, was by far the most toxic workplace I had ever been in. It made me miss the camaraderie of the bank. Sadly, the bank was the last job where I felt like I had a group of people I could enjoy spending time with outside of work. I haven’t found that since.

I ended up getting fired as an advocate. I actually saw a therapist a few times before that, and she said I needed to quit my job, that it was not mentally good for me. Triggering my past experiences and also experiencing workplace bullying from the boss on a daily basis was taking a toll. The irony of being bullied at a domestic violence advocacy center is not lost on me. Being fired was the best outcome as I couldn’t effectively help myself let alone anyone else.

My only regret was not quitting sooner. The bully forced a hug on me and said some b.s. about me being all right and being okay. I was a single mother of a young child who got no child support at the time. It was extremely scary being unemployed. Her hug was a forced thing, I recoiled and stiffened, and I did not consent to it. It was awkward and awful, and was the final insult. I am sure it was a control thing, a final hah, I determine your fate and you suck.

She eroded any confidence I had daily with disparaging remarks and public humiliations by singling me out at meetings and disparaging my work in front of my co workers. She didn’t allow me to learn anything, because she told me repeatedly that she didn’t trust my judgment which made me doubt myself, and not believe in my own judgment.

I still catch myself doubting how I think and my rationale because she would tell me daily how I didn’t think like a normal person and that my decision making was faulty. I think she wanted to get rid of me to pay for new windows.

I took a risk, it didn’t pan out, but now I know what I don’t want to do. I was also heavily encouraged to donate a part of my paycheck back to the organization, which was basically volunteering for a smaller paycheck. I wasn’t wealthy, or well to do. What a garbage organization!

I got discouraged by the sheer amount of grift it enabled as well. So many hotel stays for people who chose to use it for drugs and to invite their abusers to stay with them. I can’t think of anyone we actually helped except maybe some of the kids during the holidays.

I ended up getting a better paying job by hitting the pavement daily. I applied everywhere and went to the unemployment office every single day to work on my resume. It was hard work finding work. Luckily, I had a lot of people from the bank where I worked and at previous jobs I was on good terms with that helped. Needless to say, I didn’t use the advocacy place for anything, but had to explain my firing which was another obstacle to work around.

Ultimately, I got the job where I still am. It will be ten years in June. It isn’t fun and it has its issues. But the pay is decent and it allows me to live and doesn’t feel precarious or uncertain. I guess it feels stable and safe, which is enough for me right now. It is a union job which makes me feel like I have some protection from management if I need it.

So I guess I ended up in a better place after all, just not how I pictured it. Sometimes the path you end up taking is more of a winding one than a straight line. Either way it is your way, how you get there you don’t always know or plan for. I am still learning to believe in myself and in the possibilities. In a way I feel like I am just getting started, it just took me a long time to get here.

Posted in Uncategorized

5 Everyday Things That Make Me Happy

I don’t remember if I have answered this before, in all honesty. I have answered similar questions. I suppose I would have to say what happy is for me. I think items can give a temporary sort of happiness. Happiness is a moment in time where I am not stressed or worried, where life seems good. Where I feel like anything is possible, and that things are looking up.

There is this particular dress I was looking for from years ago. I found it. I am waiting for the weather to warm up a bit to wear it. I plan on wearing it sometime during the vacation I am taking in early July. I saw it in Nordstrom’s. It was 2007 I believe. In the Tacoma Mall Nordstrom’s. It was over three hundred dollars, but it got my attention. And I would go to look at it almost everyday. But I couldn’t afford it. Eventually, the girl working there got me to try it on. And, surprisingly, because I am kind of short, it fit, and it wasn’t too long. It looked good. But it was still a lot of money to a poor college student who worked part time at Blockbuster Video.

She mentioned a payment plan, or if I wanted to hold it temporarily. I didn’t. I told boyfriend at the time, who I realized later was not a good person. He was the opposite of supportive. He told me it was disgusting to want an item that cost so much, think of all the food you could buy. He made me feel like an awful person for loving and wanting this dress. I knew deep down I wasn’t going to buy it. I knew it was impractical and foolish if I were to buy it. But I didn’t expect the contempt and ridicule for mentioning it.

Fast forward to 2026, I go into a boutique thrift store that often has nice clothes. I always check the dresses whenever I go used clothes shopping, just in case I see this dress again. It is like true love, I know its out there, it is just a matter of being at the right place and the right time. It was there tucked between two longer dresses, I could just see a bit of it. And I thought, that kind of looks like, but naw, it couldn’t be. And, what if my memory was playing tricks on me?

I pushed the dresses apart to get a better look at it. And, I was flooded with emotion. This was it, this was the one. There were other color variations, but this was the first one I saw when I entered the store that long ago day. It had the tag still on it. I bought it for fifteen dollars, which is more than I typically pay for a used garment, but a far cry from the asking price it used to carry.

I’ll be honest, this made my day. It created very real happiness and faith in the future. I believed again. Just seeing it again would have been immense, but being able to take it home all these years later, and know it was the one. It is like owning a piece of a long ago dream that I had forgotten. That item brought me peace, hope, and happiness. I still can’t believe I found it.

Another item that brings me happiness is my car. It isn’t fancy, it isn’t special in any way except that it is mine and I bought it new ten years ago. I like the metallic maroon color, I know it and how it handles on a subconscious level. It has brought me to events and taken me home from work. It has created happiness by giving me freedom and autonomy. It enables me to experience happy moments by just being available to me.

I love my insane movie collection. I have over 1000 DVD’s and Blu-Rays. I am trying to catalogue them so I don’t rebuy any. It has been a challenge but I have a system and there is something about sorting and collecting that appeals to my nature. I enjoy finding a rare gem, or a collector’s edition. I like finding movies I haven’t heard of that seem zany or crazy. I enjoy the physical media and the artwork. I put them in binders, alphabetical. I do have a separate binder for Disney and non Disney kid’s movies. I have been tempted to organize them differently, but, instead I may add a column to my spreadsheet on the genre, the director and maybe the lead actor. So, if I am in a Bruce Willis mood, I can just search that, or if I want to watch a Steven Soderbergh movie, I can search that, and so on.

Coffee is another everyday item that I can say brings me happiness. It puts me at ease and uplifts my mood. Brewed in a carafe or a Keurig cup, both are great. Although for me nothing beats the smell of freshly ground coffee beans. When I want to do a lot of writing I will grind the beans and brew a whole carafe. Just the smell puts a smile on my face. It is a mood changer.

Other things that can make me happy albeit temporarily, having the time to sleep in and have a lazy day. I haven’t had one day to just chill in months. I have been working six day weeks and I do sometimes crash pretty hard on that sixth day. But I still have to do laundry and make some meals. I also feel guilty if I sleep in too much. I feel like I am wasting my one opportunity to write. Writing makes me happy but it can be hard to concentrate and get a lot done at home. I have KitKat who is very demanding and she hates when I am on the computer.

If I can get away and go to a coffee shop I get more done. Sometimes my free hours don’t line up with the coffee shops who like to close at 5pm. And sometimes my day job exhausts me to the point where I can’t think straight. I have an energy issue, I get drained quickly. I also shock myself electrically throughout the house all the time. I have a sensitivity to vitamin B12, so, I break out in hives if I attempt to boost it and I react to cheap jewelry as well. I also drain phone and watch batteries if they are next to my person. So, there isn’t really a quick boost outside of coffee that works for me.

Dreaming does make me happy. Sometimes I look forward to a good nights sleep where I can go far away and have adventures. Sometimes these dreams make good short stories. Sometimes I only remember bits and pieces. Dreaming does make me happy. Waking up is a chore though.

Posted in Life

Have You Ever Unintentionally Broken the Law?

I think a couple of times. I may have turned right on red in Oregon. It is allowed in Washington state, but not sure if it is allowed there. I think I may have accidentally not paid for something once. Not sure. Probably around the time the self checkout stations at the grocery stores started getting popular. I don’t think it was anything big. I think I might have also paid for something and forgot to take it with me, so I guess I broke even there.

I am pretty law abiding, generally, if I am supposed to do something, that is what I do. Jaywalking makes me feel guilty. I do not intentionally do anything. I suppose I have speeded a few times but I try not to go more than five miles over the speed limit. I am not someone who breaks the law.

I have heard people try to make excuses about stealing from corporations not hurting people. I know that isn’t the case. The corporations never eat a cost, if something costs them, they always pass it onto the consumer. So, you and I end up paying for it one way or another.

They just put the retail theft cost and add it to the cost of the item. They will never just suck up a loss. They will never just pay an extra amount of tax. You guessed it, it will just be added to the cost.

That’s is why adding a rich tax or attempting a living wage here doesn’t work. It just makes it more expensive to live here. Washington is up there with California and Hawaii, and it used to not be.

Just in my lifetime the minimum wage has skyrocketed, and everything else increases at the same rate. So, I am not making any more money, really. I am just experiencing insane inflation.

Kind of frustrating. But no, the law is the law. If there is a law I don’t like, I would say so, but I would never intentionally break it. It just isn’t who I am.

Daily writing prompt
Have you ever unintentionally broken the law?

Posted in Uncategorized

What’s Your Favorite Time of Day?

My favorite time of day will depend on which day of the week. I like Saturday afternoons because I am done with work for sure and have the rest of the day to figure out what I would like to do.

I tend to do a lot of laundry and household stuff on Sunday and can’t stay up late because I work Monday morning, so on Sundays I like when I just get up and get that first cup of coffee. The rest of the day is still ahead and I feel well rested and am just enjoying that early sunshine and kitty cat love. They love to snuggle on Sundays because I never work on Sundays anymore.

The rest of the week my favorite time would be from 6pm to 9pm, I have gotten away from work and the uniform and have dealt with or am dealing with dinner. It is usually when I have time to watch a movie. I do most of the posting on the weekend, and most of my blog posts too. But the actually watching is done sporadically throughout the week.

Mondays are usually extra hectic for me because my son has some activities that he does. Although, the day is coming when he won’t need me to shuttle him around. He hardly does right now. So, I don’t mind.

There are times when my favorite time is the little bit of downtime as I am laying in bed going to sleep. Sometimes I will dream or think of how I would like things to be, sometimes I will try to just not think about anything at all. Just everything being quiet and still. It can be really peaceful no matter what has happened earlier.

Even lunchtime can be great because it isn’t much but I do get to see my son and the cats for a bit and get away from work. It is a nice break. I guess there isn’t one set time that is my favorite. Just time with my kitties and my son is my favorite time no matter where it lands during the day.

Posted in Uncategorized

What Do You Love About Where You Live?

The area I live is very beautiful and close to all kinds of nature. It is the lavender capital of North America, and has three festivals from March to July. August and September are amazing months and the fall is my favorite time of year. If you want to see the city, it isn’t too far away. It is a short drive to Seattle, even shorter to the mall in Silverdale.

There are a lot of bike paths as well and it is pretty walkable. It can be a bit boring for the young people, and house prices are getting kind of expensive around here.

I feel like I’m slowly being priced out of where I grew up because there are so many people here from California, and Portland, and Seattle. Prices have been climbing, even rental prices have went up quite a bit. But, I plan on staying as long as I can afford to. We have mountains, and lakes nearby, on either side of us, plus other towns like Port Angeles and Port Townsend that can be fun to visit. Mostly though, I really like the proximity to the wilderness. I like all the trees. I like all the lavender everywhere.

Do I sometimes wish there were more of a music scene or more things to do? Sure. But, in the end there is a pretty cool park that is free that I can draw or write in, and plenty of coffee shops to bring the laptop to get away from KitKat who is presently demanding that I go to bed, immediately.

It is peaceful for the most part and crime isn’t bad. We are kind of isolated, even by Washington State standards, off on the Olympic Peninsula. But I sort of like that. I like that you have to discover us or get off the beaten path to figure out we’re here. It is like a secret. You have to get a secret invitation or know someone who knows someone to find out about us.

Posted in Life, Writing

What Brings You Peace?

I am thinking peace of mind. I do not have the power to enact peace on earth, and I have too much peace and quiet these days to want more of that. Sometimes reading a good book, or even a nice nap will bring me momentary peace. Meditation can do wonders as well. Sometimes music can bring me peace.

Lavender oil is very calming and peaceful. I have a ceramic stone I will put drops on for the cats if I know someone is coming over or something major is going on. Fireworks were particularly stressful recently for them.

Sometimes day dreaming can be soothing if I am able to do it, and can bring me peace. Or writing; it can be peaceful. Sometimes the timed writings where you don’t stop and think and correct things are the best for that because there is no pressure to fix anything. It just is.

I feel like I need some more internal peace. I get stressed over financial things easily and tend to want to put my head in the sand even though I know that isn’t helpful or even good idea.

Sometimes a good hearty meal or time with family or loved ones can bring me peace of mind. Just knowing there are people that care about you and think about you can be an amazing feeling. It is easy to overlook or forget this.

It is easy to take people for granted for always being there, until one day they aren’t. And then I am plagued with questions like why didn’t I visit more, or why did I let the minutiae of life get in the way of telling or showing someone I care? And now it is too late. I put off visiting and now I’ll never get to.

How many dear friends have I allowed to drift away because I just stopped reaching out? One is too many, and I have a terrible habit of getting lost in the grind. And, then when I need a shoulder to cry on, everyone has moved on and the dust has settled on all the memories and all I have left is peace and quiet. The kind of peace that I do not need more of.

Posted in Life, Writing

You’re Writing Your Autobiography. What’s Your Opening Sentence?

I enjoyed looking at the glass and all the little plastic bubbles with tiny toys inside. Some were stickers, some those sticky hands that came in fluorescent colors, and some were tiny erasers. I knew they needed a coin to insert in order to get one of the bubbles. But, I wasn’t sure how to ask for a coin, or whether it was a good idea to ask for one. I studied all the different little things, thinking about asking my Mom for a quarter.

And then, I looked around, and my Mom, the shopping cart, and my brothers were gone. I was alone. By the front door of the store. I felt myself panic a little. I was scared. But I wasn’t scared of being alone.

I was scared I would be in big trouble. I knew I couldn’t ask for a quarter now. She would be mad at me. I did something wrong. I looked at the bubbles and somehow everyone disappeared. It would be only later that I would realize that I remembered it differently.

My mom tells it that I ran off in the store, of course, she was upset, and panicked and wouldn’t let anyone leave until I was found. Some old man brought me to the register, and I didn’t say a word.

I remember just getting distracted and staying by the entrance. It was my family that wandered off from me, leaving me behind. I do not know what really happened.

Unfortunately, I liked to tell tall tales and my relationship with reality was sketchy at best back then. I also told everyone I lived in the White House. My house was white, so to me it was true.

I thought if I said something, I could make it happen. I also thought I could understand animals. Ants especially. Ants were my friends and cabbage moths. I even didn’t mind spiders. I would learn to fear them later like so many other things.

Daily writing prompt
You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?
Posted in Life

What Advice Would You Give To Your Teenage Self?

I would probably tell myself that things will get better. That it isn’t the end of the world when a relationship doesn’t work out, that none of these guys are the “one.” Also to enjoy life, and that when you make a mistake it just takes you on a detour.

It isn’t necessarily a bad thing, just an alternate sometimes longer or more difficult route that may end up in a similar destination. Our experiences are what makes us, us. And I wouldn’t waste too much time trying to convince myself on making better choices.

Maybe just help myself understand how to navigate things and how better to pick myself up. Your parents try to show you the way and tell you what you should do. Most teenagers do not listen to parents or teachers.

I think it is more important to give them the tools to make the decisions themselves and figure it out, because the one person they will listen to is themselves or their friends. The one factor that you can steer or control is your own mind, and that would be where any advice that is actually implemented would come from.

I wasn’t the type to just go along with what other’s said anyhow, friends or not. I was more likely to listen to my friends than others, but my actions were always my own, for good or bad. I would go my own way.

Do I have regrets? Yes, of course. Would any advice have made a difference? Probably not. Whatever will be, will be. Or to quote Lost, “whatever happened, happened.”

So, I have made peace with my past, the ugly parts, the petty parts, and the downright stupid parts. I am glad I am hear to continue my story, and relatively unscathed at that. So, I consider myself pretty lucky overall.

Daily writing prompt
What advice would you give to your teenage self?
Posted in Uncategorized

Another Character Study –A Story of Friendship

The images and sounds of the bus depot would stick with her. No matter how much she tried to stay positive, she always ended up feeling defeated before the battle even began.

All the faces of despair and poverty; the ugliness stared back at her without seeing her. They appeared to be looking through her into the vacant space of nothingness. She was Rhiannon, and she was waiting for her life to be over one day at a time. She lived for the moment, tomorrow was another day. Another day of empty stares, another day of meaningless hellos, and even more meaningless farewells.

Rhiannon pictured a treadmill at the local women’s fitness club. That was her life, one foot stepping in front of the other, alternating, using up time. Rhiannon knew that not everyone felt this way. Her mother’s voice over the phone dripped with urgency, and emotion. She was a powder keg of anxiety waiting to blow up in some poor guy’s face.

Rhiannon felt detached. She didn’t feel sorry for the fate of the victim, nor for her mother the ticking time bomb. That was the problem with Rhiannon. She felt absolutely nothing at all.

“Hey, Rhee, whatcha thinking about?” Her cool blue eyes shifted from the vacant people who lived and died on mass transit, toward the plain yet persistent Annie. Rhiannon had yet to find a way to get rid of Annie, who was oblivious to the blankness and detachment evident in Rhiannon’s eyes. “Well?” Annie hated gaps in a conversation. Conversations were like little books to her; they consisted of a definite beginning, middle, and conclusion. Emptiness was something that Annie didn’t like.

“Look at the people on the bus there. My life is much the same. We’re all slaves to an endless routine which is slowly poisoning us.”

“Rhee, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was thinking, maybe we could rent some movies. Have a girls night in, you know.”

“Annie, isn’t that what we always do? I know I haven’t felt well lately. I know I’ve been a hermit. But that doesn’t mean you have to be one too. It is okay for you to have a life. You’re allowed, I hereby give you my permission.” Rhiannon knew her words stung Annie because she was quiet, something of a rarity when it comes to Annie. Rhiannon watched her nod, and wave. Annie sighed, got in her little white car, an old Datsun, and backed out while another equally small car honked disharmoniously at her.

Was it such a crime to want to be alone? Rhiannon had no car. She used to have one. It wasn’t expensive, although her parents bought it for her. Her brother wrecked it after a wild night of bar hopping. She wasn’t there when it happened. She had stayed home, painting. Painting had once been her true love. Now? She wasn’t so sure. She walked to her apartment despite it being eight miles away. She liked walking. She liked people watching. What was going on in the mind of the old lady walking her mini daschund? Or the fat man taking out his trash?

Annie would be home stewing, her door shut, waiting for an apology. Rhiannon knew that Annie simply wanted someone to take care of, to care for. Rhiannon also knew that Annie was extremely shy. Not in the same way as Rhiannon, not through a lack of caring, but due to a pervading fear of rejection. Loners tend to seek out other loners, and they met and had been friends since high school. Annie had the misfortune of being the new girl, fresh in from someplace in Massachusetts. Rhiannon on the other hand grew up rarely stirring from the same small town. To by shy and to start over from scratch, not once but many times sounded like torture.

Annie’s father was some kind of business man, although what he did exactly was unknown to Rhiannon. It started in school, art class. “There are four of you to a table for a reason. Your final will be a group project. If you don’t participate, you fail the class. That’s it, pure and simple, folks. Many take this class thinking “Easy A”, but I am here to dismiss that myth.” That’s right, Rhiannon’s most enduring friendship was from a teacher’s random seating chart.

Rhiannon tiredly unlocked the door, and pushed herself into the small two bedroom apartment. There was no one set of decor, it was a hodge podge of styles. Her mother would be horrified if she ever visited. Half the place was covered in Rhiannon’s drawings or paintings, the other half had those prints one buys at Michael’s combined with a couple well chosen family pictures. That was Annie’s contribution.

Rhiannon’s photos remained in several scrapbooks kept hidden under lock and key. She only revisited them if she thought she was completely alone, and even then only rarely. To Rhiannon her mother was the shrill concerned voice on the other end of the telephone. That was all. Sometimes she had dreams of the phone ringing, and ringing, but the line would always be dead before she picked it up. She often wondered what the dream meant. Somewhere deep down in the core of her being, perhaps she missed her mom? Or perhaps it meant nothing.

She shut the door lazily, neither slamming it, nor taking care to be gentle.

“Your mom called. She left a message. I think you should call her back.” Annie’s voice was clipped and precise. It was an attempt to project coldness and impersonal lack of feeling. It was a failure. Rhiannon knew Annie was hurt. She even understood why. She simply couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Okay.” Rhiannon briefly glanced at the TV. Annie was pretending to be absorbed by an old episode of Sex in the City. Rhiannon shrugged. She approached the old black answering machine with trepidation. She knew she should return her Mom’s call. What she didn’t understand is why she didn’t want to. Rhiannon’s mother wasn’t perfect, but she was far from an evil uncaring child abuser. She’d always been there when Rhiannon needed her, and she was not unkind. But she did expect success. Success with a capital “S.” The kind that entailed wealth, kids, and a college degree. Perhaps she was simply praying for one of the above.

Rhiannon sighs, and plays back the messages. Three are from her mom, each one getting more frantic then the last. Two are from Michael. He must be back from college. One is a random person calling for a Melinda Richards who once must have possessed this number. They get her calls a lot, mostly solicitations for money. Rhiannon’s opinion of Melinda was mixed. The charity work was not bad, but the old debtors got annoying. Rhiannon wondered how someone obviously in financial difficulties would continuously give money away. Rhiannon’s imagination would conjure possibilities as varied as a simple divorce, to a death in the family. Maybe it was something more extreme; someone addicted to losing money over the phone.

She listened to her Mom’s message again. “Darling, please return my call. I’ve also spoken with your room mate. She seems like a nice girl, so there is no way you can avoid this message. I love you dear. Are you coming to Nathalie’s baby shower? Let me know, okay?”

“Who is Michael?” asks Annie, pretending disinterest and failing.

“Michael is an old friend. You don’t remember?”

“That Michael? From way back then? You were more than friends, if I remember correctly.”

“Yes, well, that was then. I need to call my Mom. Apparently my brother is having a kid.”

“If you’d check your messages you would have known that months ago.” Rhiannon dialed the number, ignoring Annie.