It Takes A Village

About two weeks ago, my furnace stopped working. I was on the phone with my sister when I realized it. "Go downstairs," she said. "Your pilot light's probably out."

"Assuming that I do go downstairs, and I take the cover off the furnace, and I bend over and see that the pilot light's out, what the heck do I do then?"

And she thought about it for a sec and started to laugh. "Good point. You better call Dad."

But I didn't want to call my Daddy. I wanted to be a grown-up and not go running to my dad every time I need something. But after I thought about it for about 2 seconds, I realized that I DID need help, and my Dad WOULD be happy to help.

So I called him. "Jim" was here to fix my furnace within 30 minutes.

Then, several days later, I came down with a nasty, nasty flu bug. I was achy and shivery and miserable for almost two weeks. I went to work, then lay on the couch and wished I would die. Without even asking, my mom brought me a giant pot of Magic Chicken Noodle Soup. Then hours later, my sister called. She brought me a massive iced tea from McAlister's Deli because I was so, so tired of 7-Up. Later that night, Mom called and asked if I needed Dad to come pick Mac up and deliver her to school the next morning.

Last Thursday, Mackenzie got out of school at noon. And as I am a Working Single Mom, she had no way home. She called my sister and was delivered to our door, right after school.

There were many reasons I wasn't sure I wanted to move back home after the divorce last year - the Indiana winters, the fact that I have no friends left in town, the midwest conservatism, twenty years of living everywhere but here. I wracked my brain, trying to figure a way to move to San Diego. I considered staying in Virginia.

If I had any lingering doubts that moving home was the right thing to do, the past 2 weeks have put to rest those thoughts. I am so, so grateful to my parents and my sister and her husband, and for everything they do for me and my little unconventional family.