Gatorade from Jesus
Sometimes, words are what we need to quench our thirst
6:30 in the morning is too early to be mad…but look at me go.
Overachiever.
I’d sworn up and down that I’d parked my car right in front of my house the night before. Smiling through anger is about as effective as using perfume as a substitute for antiperspirant, but yesterday, I didn’t care. Perfume everywhere.
I called my families as I sat in my apartment alone and told each of them that we’d be meeting over the phone. By about four o’clock, anger started to simmer as my hope faded and the sunlight grew dimmer.
Dang.
I’d built this life on the foundation of the ashes of my last one. I worked enough overtime that I started sounding like my dad does when he’s tired. Now, the man’s retired. I said, “Jesus, I mean no disrespect, but now this? What’s next?”
I lost my home to my ex-husband, lost my wedding gown to the trash. My best friend got right with himself and his girlfriend and burned our old friendship to ash. I walked away from a furnished apartment and burned whole paychecks in every department. Contrary to the claims that Walmart was making, building my life from scratch burned a hole in my savings.
