Perhaps because I'm drinking much more coffee lately....
Perhaps because I'm back in classes and my mind is once again being stimulated...
Whatever the reason, I've been unusually introspective over the past week. This is especially true when I'm tired. I find myself narrating my own actions and thoughts in the third person quite often lately.
Is this normal?
I don't know.
What I do know is that whenever I catch myself being my own narrator in what would likely be a good horror/drama/comedy/tragedy book I always end with the same thought:
This would be a good blog.
Last night I imagined myself as a character is Stephen King's The Stand. Of course, I was one of those who died in the plague (being sick at the time and all). I saw myself lying on the couch, unattended, as I was one of the last people in town alive. And I thought...
What would I do if I were really dying, and I knew it?
My gut reaction: Write a scathing letter to Serena to let her know exactly what I thought of her and the front she tries to pass off as the perfect upper-middle class suburban soccer mom.
I imagined my parents and daughter coming to visit me (they being well, headed for the Boulder Free-Zone no doubt) and I tell them to take care of my baby and to give this letter to Serena after I died.
Scene change: Mother goes into the kitchen and reads it while my father tends to me. She starts to cry.
Scene change: My father switches places with her, so he can read it as well. His eyes burn with anger and hurt at the thought of one of his children inflicting those feelings onto another.
While my mother is reading, my dad asks me if I'm sure that is the last impression I want to leave on the world.
While my father is reading, my mother says that she doesn't want to deliver such a hateful last testament, but she will only because it is my last testament to my sister (and the world at large).
I answer my father: No, that is the last impression I want to leave on her.
I answer my mother: Please do, because these are things that I was never able to say to her while I was alive. She knows the reasons why.
Looking back on what I've just written, I can gain insight into my own thoughts and motivations. What was in that letter means little as far as this story is concerned. Those whom I trust completely are aware of the situation and my feelings about it.
What I see about this little fantasy/role-play is that I yearn, more than anything, the resources and tenacity to tell my sister exactly what I think of her. She is a recurring theme in my nightmares, daydreams, writings and musical tastes.
I am standing in front of a home in the suburbs of North Central Texas. It's a four bedroom, two bath home on a half an acre of land.
I am excited.
No.
It's more than that.
I'm positively elated!
Terry's promotion went through, and he's been transferred to be the general manager at a store in the area.
We've purchased a home, and Terry's company is paying for our moving expenses and giving him a cost of living raise.
I have recently graduated with my Bachelor's of Science in Criminal Justice. My focus: forensics. My minor: psychology. Just for good measure, I also completed a certificate in family studies.
Junior will be in school soon.
He is three or four years old.
I have an appointment next week with a fertility specialist. We are considering having another child.
I have an appointment in a few days with a lawyer whose specialty is family law.
"It's going to be tough, " he says in our phone consultation, "because you haven't had much contact with your children in quite some time. She's had physical custody of them since 2005. Are you sure you want to pursue this? You may not win."
"I'm sure, " I say to myself as much as him.
He's right.
I know this.
I may not win.
But
I have to try.
Besides, sources tell me that she's low on funds to hire a decent lawyer to represent her in the case. She lives WAY beyond her means, and has been doing so for a while.
* * *
Flash forward: We are in court. I present the judge (via my attorney) with all of my supporting proof.
More drug test results, for myself and my husband.
The psychological evaluation I had to take in order to get my job.
Letters.
Lots of recommendation letters.
Friends.
Doctors.
Therapists.
Previous employers.
All of them attest to my competency as a woman.
A wife.
A mother.
An employee.
For good measure, I submit Junior's medical records. Further proof that I am well-equipped to handle a special needs child.
Tax records.
Employment history.
College transcript.
All of these attest to the fact that I am capable of being a responsible citizen, student, employee, and parent.
Finally, and most importantly, the independant home study, which was set up via my attorney.
Initially, I ask for unsupervised visitation comparable to an arrangement that would be made between divorcing parents.
I take it a step further. I ask the judge to REQUIRE her to give me information regarding the children's education, medical treatments and history, extracurricular activities, and so forth.
Such an order had been issued in the past, via her attorney, but because Serena knew that I could not afford to take her to court over it, she did not feel the need to comply.
Mighty hippocritical on her part.
And now it is going to come back to haunt her.
My attorney is on retainer.
I need only pick up the phone.
In a move that surprised her, I'm sure, I also requested an order for child support. Payments made to HER.
I bet she's wondering where this is leading.
It's simple.
After six months of visitation, I plan to pursue full custody.
Once I have full custody, she will have to hire an attorney for visitation rights.
Once I have full custody, I will make her bow to my every whim.
Once I have full custody, I will force her into back flips if my schedule conflicts with hers.
Once I have full custody, she will learn what it was like to be me for all these years past.
Ghost of sister's past.
Coming to haunt her.
I don't know when
BUT
I know
It
Will
Happen!
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