Small Town USA. This is My Town. Really, it is. Eight hundred people. Two bars, two churches--I imagine to balance each other out--one Elementary School, one JR/SR High School. Code name Broncos. One park, three basketball hoops, no stoplights..
Of course, it wasn't always like this. I was born in Dubuque, IA, lived in Galena, Stockton, and Freeport IL. Short stint in Summit, NJ, as a nanny. Back to IL town #3. Jobless, depending on the gracious spirit of friends for a place to live. Four months later, I was able to get into my own place. After spending 11 years in the car/home insurance business, became a part-time, temp-only employee of several places. In addition to walking my ass off in my first insurance gig, I've worked in the office of a clothing business, in the warehouse of that same business, taken water bill payments, even sold carpet for about a month. I....am not a salesperson.
I landed back in the insurance industry as an accounting clerk. Full-time, temp. I eventually got a steady job at the company, rating new applications. Believe or not, it was the job I enjoyed the most over the years. When the company started cutting jobs, the stress of wondering when my time would come led me to quit. By this time I'd met my ex-husband, become an instant Mom, and had a roommate for the first time in my 13 years on my own. He okayed my need to quit that job, citing that I could take a few months off, but would have to find something else. Made sense. However, my stellar (lol) resume landed me a job at an insurance agency. This turned out to be an uncomfortable "family" business, in which I just didn't fit. Three months later, had a different job at yet another auto/home insurance company (Freeport's loaded with 'em), and was to be married three months later. Not the job of my dreams, but a nice paying, steady job.
I already had several friends from previous employments...thank God. People at this company were snotty and rude. And women in the workplace...not my cup of tea. I've never been a gossip or a sniper (not the gun kind), therefore I did not fit in. A-gin, as Forrest Gump would say. It was as if I could feel the claws on my back everyday. For what reason, I'm sure I'll never know.
I found out I was pregnant just shy of a year of employment there. Glowing? Not so much. Four bladder infections, depression, little support led to time off at four months. Work group NOT happy. Yep, four months pregnant and I was on Exile Island (for you fellow Survivor fans). Everyone thought I was faking. My ex was perplexed. His first wife never had these problems....another entry for another day. Sure enough at eight months I developed pre-eclampsia, was hospitalized, then bedridden for the final month. Although the ex was not crazy about that, he was supportive.
Nicholas Robert Wilkinson was born at 7:01pm on December 16, 1996, after an induced labor, a contraction belt malfunction, too much pitocin, and a blood pressure machine that finally shut down and displayed the message "Please fix me". This did happen...surely some nurse documented it. Nick scared me, and thrilled me all at once. The ex told me "You did it!", made a couple phone calls, and was back at home before I'd even been cleaned up and given a room, The day was just too long for him. Yep, it was a doozy. But, on a high note, he did sell a cell phone to the head nurse, so it was all good....my God can that man sell!!
Fast forward (please?). Ex left in '08. That year we lost him, our favorite dog, ex's mother & and brother, and his first wife's stepfather (Papa to Nick). The next year, being within an inch of being foreclosed upon, I was forced too sell the house we'd had built to our specs. One story, to accommodate my failing physical health, open, light, TWO baths! The selling experience nearly put me down. By moving day I was an emotional and physical tragedy, barely able to haul boxes up the 19 stairs required, unable to set foot in the basement I'd spent months cleaning out. How bad was I? My glorious son took me gently by the shoulders and said "Mom, it's gonna work out. We'll get it done." Secretly, the God-sent moving crew made a plan to make sure that the bed was set up before the first day was over. How blessed was I??
It's been a year, now, in this little apartment. It's just right for Nick and me. The landlord is a good, kind man. And, it is my refuge from a world I don't trust all that much. As is my computer. I live my life through Facebook. I am disabled, though I don't look it--again, another entry--and once the house chores are done, I plant crops, bake, bartend, zoo-keep, grow wine and beat my way through the frontier. But, I also get to stay in touch with people I haven't talked to in years. How much we all have in common! I have found many Christians that have lifted me up in prayer time and again, and I them.
And here I am. A writer in need of a medium. Oh yes! I am a writer. A damn good one, if I do say so. I've written over 200 poems, and a few childrens stories. Various poems have been published in many Poetry.com anthologies. Here, as in my poetry, I will express feelings. Perhaps not today. To much 'get to know me' stuff. But, you will feel me.
Enjoy this day. It was made for you!
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