Sunday, 13 August 2017

Take me Home, Country Roads

This is the problem with me blogging. Once I start talking again, you can't shut me up.

Usually this time of year, I'd be on a beach back home. But this has been a strange year. One of the ones that you'd prefer to forget. Except those few good times. Like that weird little video FaceBook does for you every once in awhile without you asking for it. And it reminds you that there were some good times.

For me, I gotta say, almost dying really shows you who your true friends are. When I was in the hospital for two weeks, I just gave up. You know how they say in those situations when you're either going to live or die it's all in your attitude? I had a 10% chance to live and my attitude sucked. I wanted it. Which is probably why I'm perfectly healthy now. Can't always get what you want. :)

But people showed up. With flowers, with books. (That's the way to my heart by the way.) Jay brought me food every day and when I got really down, he brought my dog to the hospital.

I was talking to my dad yesterday and he gave me the usual speech about how we're better off than most people and we just need to be grateful. I've heard it so many times I could just recite it in my head. He's right though. He's always right.

When I lost my last job, I had dinner plans with some friends. I showed up crying. I cried all through dinner. They were so kind to me. When I was leashing up my dog to walk home, he handed me a check. It was more than enough to cover my rent and he labelled it "your insurance". I never cashed it but I put it on the fridge to remind myself that people are good.

My best friend seems to know me better than I know myself. I wanted to go home, my cousin is getting married and I always go home in the summer. Even though I've been in the city longer than I lived in the country, as much as this is home, that's "more" home. If that makes any sense. I want to see my parents, my little brother and my grandma.

He offered to buy me a plane ticket. He was like, I know you want to go home. And you're doing your MBA. You'll get a good job and pay me back. As a Sullivan, I am proud and I refused. Same reason I never cashed that check on the fridge. He said okay. I'll put the money in this box. You use it or you don't. It's up to you.

In the end, home wins over my pride. Three weeks and I'll be driving on old country roads. Probably listening to country music and remembering that no matter how far we run off course, we can always go home and remember who we really are - who we were - who we can be.

Sullivan out.

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