ballet slipper

The earth shifted a little last night, and I felt it. I stayed up for a few hours after writing the previous entry to finish reading a book I started Tuesday evening. "The Lovely Bones," it was called. The story resolved, the programming assignment left untouched, I turned off the light and put myself to bed.

The dream I had was nothing short of emotional. There was laughing, there was anger, there were tears of joy and tears of pain. Loved ones were ripped away from one another in the most tragic of circumstances, to be gloriously reunited later on. I awoke to the sound of my parents arriving home, which was an odd sound to hear at 9 in the morning. Through the floorboards above my bed I could hear talk of opportunities for people who once were teachers. When I finally made my way upstairs, I mentioned I had heard some conversing, and I was greeted by the news that my father had lost his job, once again, and as last time, as well as the time before that, it was due to restructuring by new company management. Mom said she knew it was coming; her pre-grieving taking place in November when the company was bought out. She said it was a good thing. How he no longer needs to go to bed frustrated and exhausted with work.

It may be a good thing, but a man, husband, father, and grandfather, does not need to be searching for yet another new job, in his early-mid 60's.

Before leaving 30 minutes late to go to campus and not visit the workshop in which my assignment was to be handed in; the workshop to which the TA arrived 30 minutes late last week, not even sure if she had to be there, and not presenting the lesson we were meant to be given; I packed my bag and walked into the living room where the two of them sat.

I wanted to let him know I cared, and I understood. I am the one who remains unaffected at home. I need to be the support for my aging parents. I stood for a moment, unsure of how to ask my father to stand so I could embrace him. Mom saw it in me, she stood, gave me a hug, and I said, "It's him who I'm trying to hug." I pulled him to his feet and held him strong, thinking that the harder I squeezed, the easier his future would be. My legs weakened. They said something, but I did not hear it. I made as much of a sound as I could to acknowledge their words, picked up my bag, and left.

These eyes were not dry when I arrived on campus, and still they remain; glazed with the hope and longing for the life my parents deserve.