My husband had taken a serious beating. His business, his pride, and his joy for so many years, no longer existed. We owed money, we had lost our home, we soon would lose the car, and he could no longer provide for us. I knew what it did to him, maybe that’s the reason why I could be so strong back then but it didn’t last. One morning I got up, and I could not find the energy to go to the bathroom. What day was it? My friend was still at home. Was it Saturday or already Sunday?
December 2009 would be the last time the three of us would have a good time together. Everything would change on New Year’s Eve. For the moment my life was still in order, as much as a life that just fell apart can be in order, to begin with. With the loss of responsibilities, there comes a feeling of freedom I did not expect.
Our truck was parked in the mud, hidden behind the kitchen building on private property, so a repo driver looking for it could not easily spot it. Would they even find us? Did the truck have a GPS tracker we didn’t know about? Technically, it wasn’t our vehicle anymore, by then it had fallen back to the bank because we had been unable to make the monthly payment we had agreed on. A contract on a piece of paper, isn’t it like a promise?
Husband and wife who had been separated see each other again, and they fall into each other’s arms. They exchange a passionate kiss, they hug and hold on to each other, then they walk into the sunset, holding hands, happy to be reunited again. That’s how it would be in the movies or in books. The perfect scenario of a married couple still being in love after so many years.
In what kind of sickly world can you be overqualified for any job. Mother Theresa and even the Pope sat down and washed the feet of people we like to call undeserving -weren’t they overqualified? Some kings and leaders in history have purposely traded places with their servants. Yet, here we are, we live at a time were you cannot get a job because you are overqualified. Exactly since when do we punish people for their education?
“They went through my things,” I could hear the disappointment and the frustration in my husband’s voice. His brother’s oldest son, back then in his late 20’s, had borrowed his leather jacket without asking. “It has a tear in it now,” he continued and the sadness in his voice made me cringe. I had bought the jacket for him, it had been a very special anniversary gift.
I had never heard of ‘Sausage Kitchens.’ Turns out they are everywhere in Louisiana. You can even buy homemade sausages at some gas stations. Just like slices of pizza are sold on the streets in Italy, the people in Louisiana enjoy their Cajun sausages everywhere -and in many variations.
My friend made me feel welcome in her home. She made sure I knew how much she enjoyed having me and the dogs around. She was a widow, lived with her small Wiener dog alone in the boonies on two acres of land.