We all have problems.

I was just reading Josh's journal about his woes in trying to get money for college.  Here's a young man with the brains to do what he wants to do but not the co-signer.  It hurts me to not see him getting out of here, away from the library and into the life he deserves to be able to make for himself.  If I had money, I'd co-sign for him in a heartbeat.  Then I'd own his skinny ass!  (Evil laugh.) 

No, all kidding aside, he deserves a chance.  His mother is putting his sister through school and his "DNA donor" is no help to him.  It's a shame that there is so much to get in the way of one's full potential.

I think there are people out there who got where they need to be through hard work or good luck, or some combination of the two.  There are some people who have been handed everything.  In fact, there are a lot of them here where I live.  I see kids out shopping who have more money to fritter away than I have to buy groceries with each month.  Some have more money than I make each month.

Josh works at a different library branch.  He wears comfy Hawaiian shirts (and he looks good in them) and drives a truck that usually runs.  He doesn't want to attend the local community college and I do not blame him.  For all its talk and new buildings, it's... never mind, I'm not going there.  I'm sure there are good teachers there and people achieving success....  Done.

I work with a woman, a single mother, whose two college student sons have all kinds of problems.  Today she had to leave because one of them was sick.  Scary sick.  The boys father is another bum who doesn't help them.

My father makes a very good salary and has a lot of prestige.  My manic-depressive ex-millionaire step-mother spends his money and berates him for not making more.  He tells me when I see him that he is glad I am there because I am the only person who hugs him.  It's so hard to go there and hear that.

I have a friend whose marriage is wearing down. Ain't nothing I can do but be there for her when it happens and hope that it doesn't happen.

I serve older people at the library who have lost their children.  I listen when they talk about them.  I marvel when they don't.

I love some of the patrons at the library.  Especially the old couple that comes together.  The woman is in much the same shape that my mother was in.  Wheelchair, difficulty talking, use of one hand.  Her doddering husband is gentle and supportive.  I look at her and see an angel within.

Some of us are attended by angels.  Some of us are attended by darker forces.  And some of us are closer to Heaven from the inside out.  She is.

We always look at each other nervously when he comes in alone.  I can never ask.  Luckily, last time he volunteered that she was in the hospital but was okay.

The day he returns her books and says she's gone, I'll probably have to go home for the rest of the day.

This couple, these partners... that's beauty and love and wealth, and all the fame you might really ever need.

When I was younger and even more shy and more emotional, writing to my friends, kept me alive.  I lived for the sparse and brief letters... quite literally.  They helped me hang on.

What do I live for now?

To see how my step-sister turns out, to give my Dad a reason to hold it together, to visit with my friends on the weekend, to hope for some chance at a meaningful love... no matter how long it lasts.

I caught a glimpse of that last year.  Maybe this year, I can do better.