I always imagined you would sing lullabies to our babies

Dear Pennsylvania,

So I am still in the car with the parental units. I haven’t told them about not getting the job. I just don’t want to sit with that energy in a 4 door car. My mother will assume I am deeply disappointed - her empathy can be overwhelming at times. She can silently talk you into feeling worse than you do, with the good intentions that a mother has of course.

We managed to make it to Florida and I haven’t said fuck yet - not aloud. I am trying hard to be respectful. I still can’t help but feel defensive and judged when I am in the company of my folks. I think I am misunderstood. My cynicism received by some as funny and intelligent is translated as negative and judgmental by them. Somehow as a 29 year old I still haven’t managed to break away from my former role as their snotty teenage daughter. Perhaps it is only my own insecurities that I am wrestling with, not my relationship with the two people who supposedly love me unconditionally.

Growing up in a fairly conservative, like-minded small town has most certainly left a giant chip on my shoulder. When I am in Wisconsin or in the company of my parents I feel that chip get heavier, sometimes its weight is exhausting. I am most obviously the outsider - the “liberal”, the “hippy”, the “misfit”. I wish I had the grace and courage to be comfortable in those differences. Instead I often find myself force feeding those around me with my lofty ideals. I just want to be accepted, loved and understood.

The sun is setting on the day, not however on our drive. Another five or six hours to go. I much preferred the drive across the country we shared together, even though it was because you broke my heart. We laughed, I cried and then cried some more. No matter what I was feeling in those 17 hours (mostly in the passenger seat), I didn’t have to hide anything. Thank you for always letting me be myself. And more than that thank you for always seeing the best in me. When someone believes you are the “nicest person they ever met” you are so much more likely to live up to their idea. I suppose that is why it is so important to be in the company of people who believe the best parts of you.

I am attempting to be brave and listen to the Fleet Foxes. I have been avoiding most music, especially music that reminds me of you. This is the album you got me for Christmas, along with that long 1920‘s cigarette that made me cry. It’s the album we used to listen to in the car. It has the song you recorded yourself singing on your phone at 5:00 in the morning when you couldn’t sleep at Miss Souderton’s house. You looked as serious as a statue singing that song on your Droid, one part tired and two parts focused. You have a beautiful voice love. I always imagined you would sing lullabies to our babies. That is the pathetic truth.

I was always envious of your talent and passion. If there is one thing I am passionate about in life it is love. Love of all kinds, but especially romantic love. Unfortunately that always gets me in trouble, and leaves me broken hearted and empty. I wish I could find a passion outside of love. I love life, so many things bring me great joy, but foolishly those things seem to get buried deep in the closet when I fall in love. I haven’t quite mastered the balancing act of being in love while still maintaining your sense of self. Though I am working on it.

Love,

Wisconsin