Inspiration and addiction

I wake up every morning...Some people make coffee, like my Mom...or eat cold uncooked oatmeal with milk and a banana, like my Dad. What do I do, you ask? I search Facebook, I look around for celebrity gossip. Why not eat, or make something to wake me up? Sometimes I'll grab a soda. (I am not much for coffee) Because my undying need and itch to know what went on in the world while I was asleep. Who is doing what? What happened? A need to be informed.

The past few years I have been put on many kinds of prescriptions, ones I am told are addictive, or will make me withdraw if I stop. I fear the consequences, but I need the answer. I watch House, MD, and watch Dr. Gregory House go through withdraw from Vicodin. A drug I was on not long ago. I watch his symptoms and sympathise. I've been there.

I guess I am inspired to write more about me deeply by my father, a man who writes daily his thoughts down in Microsoft world. I check them daily to see what I've missed, to see what is happening. I read with wonder and gets tears because I am lonely, I am homesick. The need to know shows it's face again as I long to go home to be in familiar space of where there is nothing out of place and filled with the correct seasonal knick-knacks, a kitchen filled with roosters that are not ugly, but pretty, Mom's coffee is in the microwave and she's sitting at the kitchen table, doing Sudoku or a crossword puzzle, asking me what 26 down is because it's a pop culture reference, and she knows I will find it. To find my Dad asleep in his recliner, Discovery channel or History channel blaring because his hearing isn't what it used to be, asleep. To be able to walk down the street without fear I'll be lost. Because I know if I go straight, I'll be to Geiger's farm, to pass their dog which I know will bark, and try to see me. I will pass the Creitz, with many cats, and be tempted to look in their yard for new ones, but I doubt they'd recognize me anymore seeing I am about 4 inches taller and 10 years older than the last time I was invited to check anytime I wished. I remember as a little girl spending hours over there, with the mother cat and her many kittens, to the point where they'd follow me home if I didn't put them back and walk quickly so they wouldn't notice.

If I go to my right, there is a church. I have memories of when the new church that stands their today, visible from my parent's yard was just a wooded area, full of wonder and interest. But they've cleared it now. Walk further, you find a much, much older church. So old, there are graves from the 1700's. A waiting list years long to marry in this beautiful church. A graveyard accompanies it, with wonder of who is there. A silence, yet a comforting not lonliness...Eerie, but oddly comforting. There is someone there, alive or dead. There is someone thinking of those people. I am sure there is someone in the church. Typing, praying, reading, a girl scout troop.

If I had the health, time, and money, I'd go home to visit...but I don't. Maybe I will save money to fly to go, seeing it is a long trip... and I don't want to leave Zach without a vehicle and he works a lot. I will convince myself to go. I hate that I've let myself be so distacted from the people I love, but I dislike feeling I am bothering someone. I dislike being a burden.

I look down, I see my beautiful Tonkinese, Neko, who has been there every step of my way. When Zach is not here, he is my comfort, my strength, and my companion. He knows my every feeling, and reacts accordingly. He is 8.

Well, I suppose I should stop rambling, anywho.