Summer Break of Sorts

It is August, and here I am. In a Marriott in Tampa. I am halfway through my 47th year, the greatest age of all time, and I am all kinds of things. I am tired, exhausted actually. I am sad that my Evan is leaving for college, but so happy and relieved that he is on a path that includes school and football. I am trying so hard to succeed at what can only be defined as a long distance marriage. Tracy Miller would maybe disagree, but he has no time to read this so...I am massaging people everywhere in reality and in my mind. That kid saw dead people, but I see crooked people. In both cases I am sure Bruce Willis is dead. I am worried about my kids, but I have no time to act upon it. I have guilt about that. I am trying to figure out if I will always be a little girl. Even when I'm 80. I think I will, and I have decided to embrace it. I want Daddy, I like to laugh too much, and if you could just take care of me, I'd be complete. Thank you. I still love my music too loud. I like a little buzz. I like being surrounded by my kids and their friends. I like chaos. I drive fast and prefer a stick shift. Left to my devices I would dress kind of slutty. It's Nanny's fault. I still love to worship my God. I like to sit quietly and cry to Him, and I like to dance and sing so loudly in front of Him. I like to believe. I do. My spirit is a flickering wick, but He said somewhere that He would never extinguish it. And so I flicker on.