Mona Mehas

I really do hate moving. I moved all my life growing up. Eleven different schools as a kid. Then practically the same as a young adult. Now I find myself in an apartment that I love with the coolest patio ever but I hate the building. Or rather, the building hates me. I'm on the 3rd floor and with elevators one would thing it would be ok but it's not. Neither of the elevators are close to me. I might as well take a walk down the street as to the elevator. And the exits to the garage on my floor - the doors are next to the elevators. I didn't think about those things when I fell in love with the apartment. 

Now I'm looking for a place to move where my daughter is going, a town an hour away. I have already given her my dog. Jose refused to get on the elevators here. I had him for one overnignt and had to let him pee in the parking garage. I don't have a clue where I will end up but I love Jose so much I wanted him to have a better home, a better chance. So that's the bonus: by moving to that town I'll be near him as well. 

Until my daughter moves again.

That is my fear. She'll stay there a few years then leave and then what? 

I hope by that time I will have made friends and I'll feel more comfortable in that town. I do make friends easily and hope to join or start writing groups there. If I can do that I'll feel better.

I am too old to follow my daughter everywhere. 

Well, I'm dieting and have lost 12 lbs and now I'm stuck. I need to lose about 100 more. I've been drinking protein powder in almond milk every day and trying to eat more protein but that's difficult.

Before I moved in with my daughter, I went through my clothes. I saved the ones I am hoping to get into again (need to lose 100 lbs more) and the smaller ones I donated. Problem is I gave them to the thrift shop at the senior center where I go. Clothing sells for $3 but they put a few things on a $1 rack that have been there a while. Oh boy. I saw my favorite little shirt. I bought it. I also bought 2 pair of capris that I can't wear yet. Foolish? Maybe, but I can still try.

I've arranged 2 poetry open mics recently. Once a month in a town about 45 minutes from me and twice a month closer to home. I've also started attending another live reading once a month about a half hour away. So far all these things have happened only once. And I'll probably be moving.

My twin grandsons are attending a university over an hour away. My daughter has to put the house up for sale in December because of her recent divorce. She wants to move to the university town. I know she misses her boys when they're gone, and she wants to be closer to them. But the rent really is a lot cheaper there. We decided we don't want to live together when we move but it would probably be smart if I was in the same town if I needed anything. Besides, I'm hoping to get into assisted living in a year or so (on a waiting list.)

Which brings me to Pain. Constant Pain. Chronic Pain. The kind of pain to write a poem about. And yes I did. I recently had more steroid shots for pain and I'm still in pain. Quite possibly the only thing I will get from those shots is another hospital bill. I decided I'm done with shots. I don't know what will happen but nothing will heal my back.

One of the grandsons just came in to load his car again, eat dinner, then head back. Signing off.