I found gas for $3.59 this weekend. We did a lot of driving, so I was excited to find that treasure.
Saturday went as expected. In the typical fashion of my family, I was greeted with, "You look like a suburban mom". No hello, or any follow-up explanation, just that. Sure, okay. That pretty much sums up my visit. If you hold your stomach really tight and don't turn your neck too far, you can almost pretend you're not really present somewhere.
And they talked about the CPS situation, but somehow that was directed at me, like how terrible it was that I was having to help the family with it and how nice it was that I was there for them. I had called and invited that family but the dad was working and the kids are still with CPS. The rest of the family didn't offer to help in any way and didn't even ask me for my cell number before we parted for the day.
My uncle, who is living on my gramma's property now, has restored and upgraded the place to a great degree. I'm glad about this. He walked me around my gramma's old garden and talked about his renovation plans. If you direct your eyes only where you intend and listen to the new information coming in through your ears, you can't hear the past whispering behind the walls.
As I pulled out of the driveway to go home, I expected to feel a huge wave of relief. I found some good music on the radio, I chatted with J, and still didn't feel the tension release. I thought once I was home to the life I'd achieved, I'd feel more secure. But even today I'm having a tough time shaking the experience. I've spent a good portion of my life running from one situation to what I thought would be safety.
Maybe next month after the LO's I'll feel a little more stable (or completely unravelled, depending on the outcome!). I think the timing for this blast to the past was off.