The boy is gone tomorrow. Leavin’ on a jet plane for CA. Somewhere outside of LA LA Land. Out of sight, out of mind. I took a nice parting gift from him…one he didn’t mind giving. I’ll just say that I liked him more than I am comfortable admitting and not enough to say more than that. I have a new memory.
I am mentally preparing for the family visit next week. There are too many days. I have been spending my life only seeing them on special occasions. I am always a guest and I never feel like family…always out of place. Since I feel that I am still seen as the angry child, I am now especially quiet, unsure of what to say, taking criticism or taking what is said as criticism regardless of it’s intent and consistently disappointed by the role I take on family visits. No matter what, I can not seem to keep from digressing to that role. And therefore, I believe my mother never sees the real me. Who’s fault is that? I suspect mine but I love to blame her. It makes it easier somehow. There will always be those things I could never tell her so she’ll never know me really.
I will use the time to finish the book. It’s been sitting unfinished for too long. I should use the situation to develop the family dynamic. Introduce it to help explain the characters more fully. I think with that and a more solid ending I will have it complete. It’s time for it to be done with and out of my head.