Life and Times of a Mommy(:

The Funeral

My life began with a funeral. I didn’t know it at the time, but that was the starting point. The point when everything changed. The moment that I vowed to never be the same. Now, standing on the dock looking over the mesmerizing Everglades, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had never left me. What would have been different? What would have been the same?

I turned my back to the glorious sunset and thought about about how much had changed. How much had changed for the better. I had escaped. I’d gotten free. Free from a horrible marriage, from crushing depression, from mind-numbing fear. Everything was going to be okay. Everything is okay.

Thank you to the wonderful Stephanie for our prompt this week!! Congrats again girl!! Go check out her post and everyone else’s!! Feel free to join in!! 


Ten Years Later

Elanor looked out at the waves rolling in. Her back porch was only about a hundred years from the beach. Watching the waves roll in with a cup of coffee in her hands was her favorite activity. Except for today. Today was not a happy day. She had just received a phone call from her sister. Her mother had died. She needed to go back to her home town.

Today was the day she had dreaded since she moved from that wretched little small town in BFE. She hadn’t been there for her dad’s funeral. Why would she? Her mother and sister had been perfectly capable of handling those arrangements. But now, all that was left was her and her sister, Andrea. Now she would have to go back and face the whole town.

When she moved to California, Elanor vowed to never be that girl everyone mad fun of again. She grew out the short brown scruff to a long flowing mane of chestnut colored hair. She lost about 50 pounds and ditched the dorky glasses. Her acne cleared up with a little help from a prescription medicine. She wasn’t that short, pudgy girl from high school. She was a successful writer and photographer. She had made it out of that crap town, went to college, and made something of herself. But now, Elanor had to go back. Go back and see those people who ridiculed and humiliated here. She’d proven all of them wrong and she was going to go to her mother’s funeral with her head held high and show all of those people just how far she had come.

This is a follow up post to this post. I said I would write more and I did. Sorry it took so long!! This piece feels very repetitive to me so feel free to give some constructive criticism!!


The Story I Promised

Now, I promised the other day that I would tell you how I lost the pictures of the great hair catastrophe. And so here it is. Everyone gather ’round!

Once upon a time, in a far away land…. No, I’m just kidding, that beginning really won’t work. First I have to give you guys a little back story so that it all makes sense.

My mom hit 40 and kind of lost her mind. No. Actually, she lost it when I was in 4th grade and she got a tramp stamp. By 40, she was probably clinically insane. She decided that cheating on my dad with someone literally half her age, and who could have been her son, was a good idea. I figured it out and the Great Fight of Thanksgiving Day ensued. It lasted until just after Christmas when we moved out.

Not my house.

Not my house.

Back to present-ish day. (The day of the fire.)
When the house burned down, a year to the day that we moved into the house, no one was home. My mother, that dude, and I were living in a hotel. My dad, thankfully, and kind of un-thankfully, was at a friends house. It was New Years Eve and he didn’t want to by himself. Totally understandable.

In the house there was a wood stove. In the attic next to the flu there was insulation that had newspaper in it. Newspaper + super hot temperatures = what?  Class? Anyone know? That’s right! Fire! Eventually. See, when a flu (the chimney) is that close to paper it doesn’t immediately burst into flames. Instead it smolders until it comes to a large ball of paper or something more substantial than a sliver of paper. Then you get a roaring inferno.

Thankfully my dad wasn’t home because he is a super sound sleeper and the roof collapsed into my parents bedroom/bathroom and the living room. My room was virtually untouched. (Because of where the roof collapsed, my mother thought that my dad had purposely burnt the house down.)  We ended up having three different fire departments from three different cities at our house because we lived so far out. (Not that it helped, I just though it was cool.)

The pictures of the Great Hair Catastrophe along with a lot of other great pictures were water damaged beyond recovery. What was left untouched by the fire was quickly ransacked and ruined by the druggies that lived down the road.

This is kind of what what of the photo albums looked like. It wasn't this bad but you get the point.

This is kind of what what of the photo albums looked like. It wasn’t this bad but you get the point.

My dad did rebuild the house almost exactly the way it was, except he got rid of some wasted space and added about 2 feet to one side and expanded all three bedrooms. As of yesterday, the house, that I absolutely adore with all my heart and soul, is up for sale.


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