Caterwauling

Took mom to see “To Joey, With Love” the other night. I dragged my feet going to this movie. But I’m so glad we went. 

It’s the love story of the country singers Joey + Rory. But it’s so much more than that. 

What was meant to be a focus of their homesteading and raising their baby daughter, turned into a beautiful chronicle of their little life as Joey was diagnosed with, and died from, cancer. 

It’s also the best advertisement of how a loving momma nurtures her child with Down syndrome. How all children have value. How Joey loved that smart, sweet baby. 

The joy in all their hearts, every day, struck me. They loved and trusted God every step of the way. Through the life He gave them … from the baby He wanted them to have … to the path He planned for them to take. 

They were lucky to be successful. They were smart to scrimp and save. They could afford their year off. And they could focus 100% on Joey’s treatments and, ultimately, her final months. 

Thy will be done, they sang. This was their journey. 

I thought about how I’d be dragging my IV and port to the office every day in the same situation. Assuming full employment till recovery or death. 

And the “thy will be done” hit me like a ton of bricks. Did God choose this life for me and does He think I’m ungrateful for all the rocks I have to roll up the hill?

I mean, do I aspire to more or do I finally trust Him to guide my next move … Even if it’s to stay in place?

I liked the idea that God chose the baby they were meant to have. That means He picked the family I was supposed to have. And the job. Maybe not the apartment, though …

Or like Rory, the family he was supposed to have for now. Not that he will love again. You can tell, he will never be the same. 

I guess trusting God sure beats trusting humans who have let you down before and who let you down again just 12 hours of leaving the theater. 

There’s a lot to be said for giving your problems up to God and letting them be His to solve. 

I think I lost my faith when a million prayers for mom’s health went unanswered. On the other hand, I still have her. So there’s that. 

I still don’t have anyone else to love or trust. Plenty to hold in downright contempt. And a few I like from my daily interactions to leave behind whom I will miss. 

But faith would tell me better days, things and people are coming. 

My prayer is sooner rather than later, and the strength to thrive in the meantime. 

So basically with five lunch breaks left in the town I love, and about 47 restaurants I assumed before Monday that I’d still have time to try, I gots some eatin’ to do.

I ordered a salad from a place where Sia and I celebrated a happy hour or two. They decorate in Steeler everything for the fall season. So, feelin’ the love, right?

Well.

I could tell the gal wasn’t listening to me. I even said I’ll wait till she has time to focus to order. She insisted I order anyway while she cashed out someone else and made another person a cocktail.

But she did repeat my order back to me. So I waited.

Lucky me, a guy sits right next to me. There are maybe four people in the whole joint that seats 120. And he lights up cigarette after cigarette.

Now, we used to go there because we could smoke … in our smoking days. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had the urge. To go there OR to smoke.

Well naturally my order comes out fucked up. I mean, FUCKED. UP.

The server took it back to the kitchen. I ran after her to tell her I didn’t even want it. I mean, I had exactly 20 minutes for lunch because it’s a busy day. And I’d just spent the last 10 huffing secondhand Marlboro.

I could hear the kitchen guys yelling at her to LISTEN when a customer orders. They read the ticket right.

(Insert: I took Mom out for her birthday. We said absolutely no onions. The server showed us her pad where she underlined NO ONIONS. We got fucking double onions. I kid you not. The cooks only SAW the word onions. And I didn’t order the $25 dessert they were pushing since they’d probably put onions in that too.)

I’ve had quite enough of having to wait and pay and smile and be a good sport.

In fact, in my little notebook today, I wrote that it feels everyone’s job in corporate America is to be a good sport. First and foremost. The rest is so very secondary.

So I said no thanks. I only had so much time and I don’t have another 10 minutes. Gotta run.

And I did.

Went to one of the other 47 places I will miss. At this point I should have just gone to an event I had to skip because of how much there is to do today. The food was wonderful. Service left a lot to be desired. But getting what I wanted was glorious.

It’s too bad about the first place. The food looked BEAUTIFUL. Minus the dressing and the GALLON OF ONIONS on it. That I guarantee they would have just picked off. 

I notice when I’m leaving a city, everything starts to go wrong. Like it’s the universe putting its foot up your ass, Red Foreman-style, to make you not look back.

I will look back. I will pillar-of-salt look back. I will pine and do everything I can to come back. Just, not to these places that insist on shoving their onions in my face.

Went to grab breakfast at my favorite place. 

My favorite barista from another place was telling my favorite cashier (yes I love them all) that he just put in his two weeks’ notice. 

My cashier asked if there are other openings where he’s going. 

I said I was bummed since he’s the only one who can make a good drink. He seemed happy to hear that. 

That’s the thing. Most people don’t need a compliment. They just need to not feel regretful every time they open their mouth. Because you can take that mouth and everything that wants to come out of it to rhe new salad place down the street. 

I probably won’t follow my favorite barista. But then again, you never really know with me, do you now?