Heather showered second, and then offered to take Felix with her when she and her son left for the family’s growing business in downtown Portland, Maine. Her husband was already gone ahead. Alone, I jumped into the shower myself before following her.
The drive in to the industrial space just off 295 took all of ten minutes, but they were ten minutes scented with salt air and sunshine. When I got to Rising Tide, the boys were building a fort out of Rubbermaid containers while Heather and her husband labeled bottles of American pale ale. Felix was particularly fascinated by the labeling machine.
It was good to be seen. Good to be supportive of my friends. Good to lavish a little love on my godson.
I’ve been increasingly depressed lately. Jobs are scarce, and getting a reply from a résumé even more so. It gets harder and harder to justify not doing what work I have in my pajamas. It gets easier to stay in bed, to let the chores go an extra day. After all, money is tight. We don’t often stray far from home because gas is prohibitively expensive, there’s no cash for camps or summer activities. Our family vacation this year is again being made possible through the generosity of our families, and I’m trying really hard not to feel like I’m taking advantage.
I don’t blog about it because it feels like whining. We have each other, a roof over our heads, our health (Now I knock on wood.).
Without a ton of close friends in the area, it gets lonely around here. Reaching out to my frankly amazing online circle of friends helps. A lot. But it can be done in those pesky jammies. And it begins to feel like reality is on my computer screen and not in the air around me. Life slips by quietly. Not good.
Biting the bullet and driving the 140 miles to Portland felt a lot like an indulgence. It may have, in retrospect, been a necessity.
This morning, on the advice of a wise friend, I got up and got dressed. And yes, it took someone else telling me. I’ve applied for some jobs, I’ve done some work. I feel better. And that hope that’s blooming in my gut smells a lot like the salt air in Portland.
It was very good to be seen.