So we had that fantastic trip to the beach with our friends. My slippers and I had a great time.
I managed, by day five, to push to the back of my mind the racing thoughts of what 2006 will be like for my family. Actually the thoughts were more about what 2006 will be like for me. I'm selfish that way. Those racing thoughts have been desperately spinning through my head, a big wild blob with arms and legs extended, waving and kicking frantically, grasping for my attention no matter which direction I turn. There is no escape.
I keep hearing my mother sob, "I was supposed to go first."
Within hours of arriving home, those thoughts were pummelling me yet again following a phone call to my mom. Sometimes we can get through a conversation without her breaking down, but not often. I can't say as I blame her. I'd like to do the same.
I curse my sister for living so fucking far away. I don't really mean that. I think. I just feel crushed by the unbearable burden of being me. Of being the one on whom my mother is counting on the most.
Ah, histrionics. I should keep them to myself.
How can I possibly be so selfish? Of course I'm grateful for the opportunity to be there for her. But holy shit. Can I handle the responsibility? Each time we talk, she shares with me more items added to her "list." That goddamned list. It's a honey-do list with my name on it. Wendy's name is on it too, the lucky gal. Thank god for Wendy.
Someone pour me a drink.
A stiff one.