Money For People
I spent some time with a friend recently. She told me all about her life over the last few years, all the things she has done, the places she went, the people that she met. It was all impressive and there might have been a twinge of jealousy on my part at things I had missed out on through the years. When you are in parenting mode, the rest of the world seems nonexistent at times.
As I was imagining how wonderful this life of hers must be, she continued to talk. And that’s when the turn started. As we are in the store looking at some gifts for a coming baby shower, she finds this little reindeer suit. And as we talk about Christmas, she tells me “I don’t put up a Christmas tree. There’s no need. It’s just me”.
Freaking floored. Literally standing there with my mouth open. Thankfully, the shocking drool didn’t pile up on the floor, so she didn’t notice. No Christmas tree? Woah, who doesn’t do that?
She has a child, has her mother, and yet lives 600 miles away, in an apartment that could probably qualify for “US Homes That Don’t Look Lived In”. Picture perfect, everything matches, probably the toilet paper in the guest bathroom even has one corner tucked under.
But no Christmas tree. No family around for those little everyday talks, even if they are sometimes grouchy. No birthday celebrations, no Easter plans, no nothing except all adult, all the time. Alone. In an apartment. Damn.
As we continued shopping (me being the glorified bag carrier) she continued to show me what she liked. Fine china. Huh? Expensive purses and shoes. What? More clothes than I have probably owned in the last 10 years combined. Why?
And so, I asked point blank: “why do you continue living there?”
“Because” she said, “I can make more money living there. And I have seniority at my job and don’t want to give that up. And some friends.”
So much was revealed and explained to me in that one series of thoughts. Suddenly I could feel the incredible pains of lonliness, my heart literally bleeding for her at that moment. The tough outer shell she presents, the constant jokes, the semi-warmth, all of it suddenly made sense.
Though I didn’t say anything, inside, my mind was reeling. The bitter reality hit me on the tradeoff that she had made. Money for people. Sure, she had a few dollars, and was respected at work, and had people to go out with. But no Christmas tree.
Frick.
And of course, you know what I did. Immediately, without hesitation, I wanted to fix it. I mean, shit, that’s what I do isn’t it?
Not anymore. My fixer is broken, smashed into a thousand pieces, never to be re-assembled and used again. I can not fix the damn world, no matter how much I want to.
When my kids talk with me about problems their friends have, I tell then “You didn’t start it, so you aren’t in control of it, so you can’t fix it. You can listen, be supportive, but you can’t fix it. You are not God.” And so now I have to take my own advice.
She made the trade and she lives with it. It’s not at all what I would do, but it isn’t me. I have no place in it at all. So I’ll do what I do, write what I write, and sing what I sing. She lives her life by her decisions, I live by mine, and narry the two shall meet!
My name is really Rick, not “The Fixer”.
Hey, kids, remember that I love you. The rest of the family too. And I ain’t going no where.