A couple of co-workers of mine spent all day today at the library annex, instead of coming back to the headquarters building in the afternoon. They were getting a lot accomplished, so figured they’d keep on the rest of the day. I was thinking about this on the way to Wal-Mart this evening, and I was – I guess “envious” is close to what I was feeling, though the thoughts spun into anger – mainly directed at myself, as usual. I was asking myself, “Why the hell can’t I get anything done? Why am I never that productive? What the fuck is wrong with me anyway?”
I was able to push the mood aside – must be a good thing that Wal-Mart is less than ten minutes from our house, not much time to get riled up about stuff – and the actual shopping trip was all right, just LONG because I had to return something and stood in line at Customer Service for close to 15 minutes. I thought about getting an iced coffee from the McDonald’s inside the store, before the endless wait at Customer Service, but was able to resist the temptation.
On the way home, I was listening to Tori Amos’s Little Earthquakes CD, and the next song cued up was “Winter.” I turned out of the parking lot onto 37th St., and had tears in my eyes before I got to the 37th and Burlingame intersection. The start of the song is about a little girl outside on a cold winter day with her dad: “I put my hand in my father’s glove,” she says. And the chorus just moved my heart, and I imagined my dad…not really saying the words, but that the words must certainly express what he felt for me:
When you gonna make up your mind?
When you gonna love you as much as I do?
And then the last verse:
Hair is gray and the fires are burning,
So many dreams on the shelf.
You say, “I wanted you to be proud of me.”
I always wanted that myself.
My dad was proud of me, and did love me, as well as he could – and in his way, far better than I’ve ever loved myself. And heaven help me, I miss him so much tonight, more than in a long time.