Go Greyhound

I'm leaving for my mom's house in Connecticut tomorrow. I'll be gone for most of the week. I hadn't planned on it, but my mom has been going through a lot in the past few months and it's really getting to her. The family dog died a couple of months ago at the ripe old age of 17. Since my siblings and I all moved away from home years ago, the dog was my mom's constant companion. Then she was diagnosed with breast cancer around the same time that the dog died. Luckily, it was in the early stages, it hadn't spread, and they were able to remove it all. As far as a cancer diagnosis goes, it was the best possible scenario. But just as a precaution, she has to undergo radiation treatments five days a week for seven weeks. This had delayed her plans to sell her house and move to Massachusetts, where all of her children reside. She had wanted to be up here already. But she did put her house on the market last week, and on the first day of the Open House, received an offer. Unfortunately, the house didn't pass inspection because of rising damp in the basement, which had flooded years ago and which was never properly fixed (which she didn't realize until the inspection). So the potential buyers withdrew their offer. When I called to talk to her today, like I do every Sunday, she sounded upset. When I asked her what was wrong, she completely lost it and started crying. She said it's a combination of the sale of the house not going through, plus the radiation treatments and the pills they have her on. She sounded so depressed that it scared me. So I told her I could come home for a week and stay with her. After all, I'm not working right now, so I have all the time in the world. The conversation went like this:

Mom: No, don't come down, you can't afford it.
Nowhere Girl: Yes, I can. I have money.
M: No, you're not working right now.
NG: It's alright, I can take the bus.
M: No, you need to save your money.
NG: I'M COMING DOWN ANYWAY.

My mom always puts her kids first. Here she's scaring the hell out of me because she's so depressed right now, and she's worrying about me not having money. But I know my mom. As much as she protests, she really does want me to come visit. So I told her I was coming, no ifs, ands, or buts. Once I did, she acquiesced. I knew she would. So tomorrow, I will be on a Greyhound bus bound for Connecticut for five and a half hours, possibly more if there's traffic (which there usually is).

I like taking the Greyhound bus. It sounds crazy, but I'm perfectly happy to sit on a bus (those comfy tourist kinds, with the plush seats) with my iPod so that my 9-hour Best of the Eighties playlist serves as a soundtrack to the motion picture that is the passing scenery outside my window. Unless I can't get a window seat. I really have to have a window seat. A female friend of mine once told me that if I ever took a Greyhound bus, to sit up front near the driver and not talk to anybody. She said every time she takes it, it's full of strange men traveling alone. I've never had any problems. Keeping the iPod earbuds plugged in my ears the entire time helps, as it intimidates potential traveling companions from trying to talk to me. But my friend does have a point about strange men on interstate buses. You always hear about convicts, just released from prison, who are given a new suit of clothes and a bus ticket - or do they not do that anymore? And whenever there's a cross-country dragnet for a wanted criminal or escaped convict, nine times out of ten they're apprehended at a Greyhound bus terminal, attempting to flee the state. The other option is the Chinatown Express, those inexpensive buses that travel between New York and Boston for $10 each way. I took the Fung Wah bus once and had no problems whatsoever, but that was before the Asian gangs got involved. The gang wars led to the stabbings of Chinatown Express bus drivers and the sabotage of the buses. Not that the mobsters need to set fire to the Chinatown Express buses, mind you. They seem to catch fire by themselves with alarming regularity, usually while speeding along the Mass Turnpike at 85 miles per hour.

It's sad to think that this trip home will probably be one of the last times I visit that town before my mom moves away forever. I'll miss things that I used to take for granted, like the mall that my sister and I used to trawl practically every weekend for twenty years, starting when we were teenagers. But what I'll miss most about that place was its proximity to New York City. New York is 45 minutes away by train from where my mom lives. I always thought that, no matter where I lived, I'd always maintain my connection to New York City because my mother still lived just outside of it. I could always stay with her and take a commuter train into Manhattan. Until I moved to Massachusetts, I had spent my entire life living in the New York Metropolitan area. Now, if I go back, it will be as if I'm not from New York. I'll have to take Amtrak, and pay for a hotel room. In short, I'll be a tourist in the city that I was born in. That makes me sad.

Right, I'm off to take a Lunesta now so that I can battle my chronic insomnia and get a good night's sleep. I'm not used to getting up before noon since I've been unemployed, and I've got to leave the house early tomorrow.