Desperately Seeking Solace

Yesterday I started to write a post about how excited I was about all the job prospects that seem to be opening up for me.  I wrote a little about how I was feeling some doubt about a job I was up for (and REALLY wanted), but that the schedule was awful.  I wrote about how just when I was starting to think about letting go of that job to find something with better hours, I shadowed a clerk as part of the pre-hiring process and found myself once again pining for the job. I got distracted and never finished that post.  Now I'm glad I did, because I missed the interview, thus completely ending any chance of getting hired for that particular position.

This morning started out fine, but a series of unfortunate events that I really don't want to re-hash put me in the position of deciding whether to attempt to show up to the interview about 15 minutes late or give up.  In a last ditch effort to try to salvage things, I called the HR manager and explained my situation.  I was told all the interviews were being done today only and that there was no way to reschedule me, since all the slots were full.  So my interview was canceled.  And I cried.  A lot.

Without thinking, I changed out of my respectable attire, threw on capris, a t-shirt, and flip flops, and headed to Lithia Park.  That was my happy place as a child and my own kids love it, too.  Since the teen is w/ her biodad in Arkansas until Sunday, I packed up the toddler and off we went to play on the swings and walk along the trails, and listen to the sounds of the water in the creek.

Whether it's subconscious or deliberate, I've noticed that when something is especially heavy, I still seek out ways to be close to my Granny.  She always seemed to comfort me in the most perfect way.  If I needed to vent, she listened without judgement.  If I needed advice, she gave it.  She's been gone for over 10 years now, and was mentally gone a few years before that, but I still find ways to be near her when I'm struggling.

Today I needed peace.  After playing for awhile, and eating some lunch, Presley and I stopped at the Farmer's Market where my Granny used to shop.  The market looks and smells exactly like I remember.  I purposely walked down every single aisle in the tiny building, just to inhale as much of that smell as possible.  I bought a bag of banana chips and although they no longer sell the push pops Granny used to buy us kids, I bought Presley a tiny carton of Ben & Jerry's.  It was my way of holding onto as much of Granny's little tradition as I could.

Leaving the Farmer's Market, my next stop was the Hilsinger House.  I've written about the house and what it means to me in a previous post, so I won't go into it all over again.  The first thing that caught my eye as I rounded the corner, was a for sale sign that said "Residential Development".  I had been told a few years back that the house would be demolished at some point and had spoken to the owner's sister about possibly walking through before that happened.  However, I lost her number and haven't spoken to her in several years.  Looking through the gate, I noticed the driveway was in really bad shape, as if some work had already been done to prepare the lot for demolition and construction.  I pulled into the neighbor's driveway and knocked on the door, hoping to catch the owner's sister at home.  Unfortunately she wasn't there, so I left a note with my name and number, and asked if I can walk through the house before it's gone.  I sat in the car for what seemed like hours, but was probably closer to 20 minutes, just staring through the overgrown foliage and dilapidated fencing.  The reality of the Hilsinger House being gone hit me like a left hook.  This time there was no stopping the tears.

The drive home was quiet.  My mind was no longer clear.  Now that I'm back home, my heart feels heavier.  I hope the next time I post on here, it will be pictures of the house I love so much and a story about finding some measure of peace in being inside those walls one last time.  For now, I'm going to sign off on a somber note, hug my baby who just woke up from her nap, and go about my day.