Once I got back in the country, I went a lot of places and did a lot of things during my allotted time off–even during the weekend following my first official day back at work, which fell on a Friday. I set foot in six states and drove, by a rough estimate, about 3000 miles, while flying at least that far. I spent time with my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and a sizable number of friends whom I don’t often get to see these days. It was a superbly enjoyable couple of weeks, though it all seemed to fly past and ended almost as soon as it had begun. I was able to experience many of the things that I’ve generally done without since moving to Clovis.
As I feel like I proclaim ad nauseam in this journal, I’m grateful for health, family, friends, food on my table, job security, etc, etc, etc. I make every effort not to take any of it for granted. It’s hard not to feel, at best, disappointed with the way some things have turned out. I sometimes wish I could blot out many memories–some because they are intrinsically unpleasant, and some that, while pleasant, serve to remind me of what I don’t have anymore. But that’s part of life for many, if not all, people. I don’t presume that anything lasts forever, and I’ve become at least competent in dealing with unwelcome changes and bursts of bad news. For me to constantly be a shining star of positivity and always make everyone around me happier is a noble, but unattainable, goal. What I can do is persevere through my own struggles and strive to have enough of a reserve of brainpower, focus and emotional strength to genuinely help people when there is a need I can meet.