Visit 7-1

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Another few days passed. I wanted to go back earlier but some things got in the way. I wasn’t finished paying off my father’s medical bills, or the funeral bills, or my mother’s medical bills. I don’t have the heart to tell her that insurance doesn’t take care of everything like she thinks it does. It helps, but not enough. And because of that, and because my mother’s poor health doesn't let her work like she used to, I work for both her and myself. I won’t lie when I say I’ve wanted to quit, give up, let whatever could happen, happen, but I don’t because I couldn’t do that to her. At this point, I don’t care what happens to me. I gave up on myself a long time ago. But not my mother. The apartment we share was the cheapest one I could find closest to her job. I pay for it. She thinks she helps, but $200 a month doesn't cover even a third of it. I don’t use that money. I have it saved up for when she dies. I know she doesn’t have much longer, maybe 10 years max. And those thoughts drove me back to the coffee shop, despite knowing I had work in a few hours and I should have been resting. I sat where I usually sat and was greeted by that same woman I had met a few days prior.