A clean house

makes for a clean heart; so I was once told at least. It's only now that looking back on that small little quote that I can understand it. Every time I clean the house, I look around and think to myself how great it is that my house looks like a beautiful home again. It brings me comfort and joy and always helps lift me up after a bad day and if not; Swedish fish and romantic comedies help unless it deals with love; then it's comedies without the romanticism.

Tomorrow marks the first day that Brenda, Dylan, and the latest addition to our clan; Tommy will be home. It's been nearly 5 months since we actually were together in person. Now I know the horror that military families feel and I give them my gratitude in being able to deal with it. Especially when you love someone. Much like my past; I've had a great many of situations like that. Wondering if they're okay, hoping they'll make it back, and so on.

I'm excited for tomorrow. No more lonely thinking or discontent moments where I'm counting down the days to my death. Simply spending time with my family is where happiness stems. Though I'm not accepted (I feel like a damn credit card sometimes); I'm still loved and that is all that matters. It may not work out in other aspects of life but I know with my family; they are always there when I need them. When I've cried so many tears I can't stand it or when I need a voice to answer me back; they're there.

Sometimes I think it would be great to have a remote to life so I could rewind back to some of the great moments and enjoy them again. Or fix mistakes I had made so that my future could be brighter. Really though, in our world today...a bright future is nil for almost everyone unless you were lucky enough to win the lottery, score a big movie deal, or go into high quality porn...even that is a battle because you have to work constantly just to keep your head above water...and the work isn't easy

Some people could say I never really appreciated the heart of a working man but I differ on that approach. I do appreciate it. My dad is a prime example of a hard working man. Since he was 14; he's been working his ass off to provide for himself and when me and my two sisters came along; his family. I'm proud of my dad for the fact that he's a genuinely loyal person and I know that I get that side from him.

I get my bitchy side from my sisters; my stubborn side is part of the Whaley family tradition apparently; and my anger is just part of the Irish blood that's embedded in me. My kindness however comes from my mother. I can't pin point it but sometimes I just feel it. I sit a lone at times and when I'm really scared or really worried; I try to think of her because I know she would comfort me in those times.

It's an inspiration to hear from my dad all the great stories of my babyhood and what my mother did for me. She really really loved me and sometimes I think about it and wish I could have been old enough to truly have felt it; rather than just know about it.

You get what you get; right?

Ce la vie!

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