The word parade conjures up several images and feelings about my past, my present, and that which can not be described.

Last weekend I stood in the pouring rain with thousands to remember something so simple and so easily forgotten that I missed the point of it. In my current life I am as busy as the next person; which basically means I work, work, and have a part-time job to make ends meet more comfortable. Between the hours or mere moments between needing to be somewhere and the need to something its funny how time just kind of flies by. Digital everything seems to have overtaken the need to socialize and fraternize with the mundane. To stand there in my old locale clutching the local beverage of choice and nestled amongst strangers who happen to be “friends” due to circumstance it seems to all come together somehow.

The air filled with bagpipes, not because there was a busker looking for a quick buck but rather to pay homage to those with melody instead of tears. Each time I hear it chills run down my spine. Not only because I feel connected to the bagpipes themselves, but it means something… however, is that in itself is enough?

The minutes of silence observed are unlike the quiet years partners, families, communities, and countries observe for loses that will never be replaced. I know I am very fortunate. If I study my family, many members serve the crown and the country on a day to day base. As we conclude another year, I thank my lucky stars that they are all safe and here at home. During the silence of the service of Remembrance, it hit me in my core – this year will most likely bring the travel to the one family member who is ‘deployable’ ; that freaks the shit out of me. Creepy video game simulations and books of war from the past forgotten, this is no game. And I am not one to judge because I don’t use my six years of education supported with three certificates to bring home the ‘bacon’ and my lifestyle is odd to some and I'm sure others judge me in the same way I want to continually ask why he doesn't for a non-deployable 'company.'

So much has changed in our society. It’s hard to consciously remember that it wasn’t always like this. There was a time where you had to type in commands to start a computer program, a toaster oven was the closest thing to a microwave sitting on your counter top, and you had to factor in an extra two minutes to rewind your movie before returning it to the video store since you didn’t want to waste your pop bottle pocket money on an extra fee. As the years go by it almost becomes depressing how much actual parades have changed. To make childhood more exciting there were parades to celebrate local events and the arrival of the festive season. Back in the day it was worth it to sit on the cold cement sidewalk for hours before hand to secure a prime seat for the candy that would come flying your way. Sure the hand-eye coordination of small children is never accurate, but the scramble was an integral part of the parade route. Tragically parades have lost some of their luster since the candy was cut back and the normal flair was put on a budget. My personal parade has suffered some drastic cutbacks.

I live with the resurgence of Monty the Mouse. I found myself believing that Monty finally kicked the can, I had a couple of weeks that enabled my bread to remain uneaten and my heart to keep a normal heart rate when I walked across my kitchen floor... then it all changed. Monty II moved in. It all started when I hung up a coat and something landed on my shoulder before hitting the floor. I nearly died since I couldn’t inhale enough air to scream. Since then Monty II has jumped out of two boxes and sauntered across my floor (since he feels no need to run away from me.) I tried ‘humane’ methods to ‘catch and release’ Monty II, but he hasn’t fallen for my cheap ploys. I then considered getting a cat. A cat seemed like a viable option; however, I don’t really know if I want to lock a cat in an apartment. I placed calls and became demanding of Monty II removal – still nothing. Last night I woke up to him wrestling around in a box filled with travel documents and postcards. I got up kicked the box and tried to scare it senseless. Apparently I didn’t do much. Upon closer inspection of my apartment, I have discovered that it ate my symbolic chocolate kiss and found a stash of my $18/ lbs coffee --- so basically it is hyper and wide awake. Awesome, sinced I'm unable to cope any longer I had put down traps. Traps that promise ‘easy and quick’ removal of this particular vermin. I need to make a confession.

I have lived with friends, a partner, and on my own since leaving my family home. I enjoy living on my own; however, more so recently I has hit me that I don’t live with a male (or a stronger female). In the past, I haven’t had to kill spiders, be the one to check that the front door is locked, or had to search for a hammer (when I first moved in I had to use a pot to hammer in nails because there wasn’t a tool box lingering in a closet, not to worry I have since bought a hammer); but now I do. It doesn’t sound like much, but it makes me want to be more of a wimp than I have to be. I don’t necessarily want to be taken care of but I don’t know how I react when I find Monty II dead in a trap. It makes me want to gag just typing that, this morning was the first morning I put the traps out while I went to work and I was sick to my stomach coming home… it was worse than going to dentist office knowing you needed some ‘work.’ Thankfully nothing was there, but one day soon I may not be so lucky / unlucky.

I know I will toughen up, because I will never call the friend who offered to come and dispose of the carcass; I mean if I have the gull to kill it I should be the one willing to get rid of it, right? I hate that I live somewhere that I could have a mouse. I hate it. I am still looking for my future home and fell in love with a view belonging to a place that I will never be able to leave… even if I go the unconventional route and start popping out eight kids, I’ll just have to stack them in the second bedroom since I would never leave there. I suppose that apartment would be a parade home. The layout and the view would be perfect for entertaining and enjoying in the heart of ‘downtown.’

It’s funny that I am here again. Falling in love so easily with something that is nearly out of my reach, I suppose that’s a drawback to being a Leo. So frickin’ trusting and gullible about the big and little things; and thinking others will do upon me as I do to them. But I suppose I have finally learned my lesson. I went on a limb and filled my fridge with the fixings of a perfect dinner for some friends to celebrate a first birthday on local soil. I spent more than I make in a day on it. I wanted it just right did what any pre-planner would do àmarinate. Two flips into my marinating cycle I received the official cancellation. As a single girl who doesn’t eat red meat with a fridge full of top round steak and fixings that didn’t really lend to single serving meals, it was less than awesome. So instead of just sucking it up and slowly working through it, I made it known that I had already preplanned and I have been cut out. Simple as that. I made someone else “feel like shit” because they had plans more important that me; which is fine. The problem with this parade is that it is really a double edged sword. She had offered me an out from my life and try something extraordinary. And when the good is good between us, nothing can go wrong but we have a serrated past. Many times I have been forgotten or pushed aside for other people or things. It always hurts and honestly I don’t know why I recently called when I was at the base of her building because it was where life brought me… I thought there had been enough time and distance for us to sort it out over tea, but like so many other things I obviously don’t understand the pieces that make up my personal puzzle. Her choice not to pick up the phone or even contact me ensures me I no longer have to coordinate her float into my parade route. It makes more sense that it happened as the final of three things. The other two things being: I went home to tell cancer to fuck off for once and all, only to be too sick to see its victim in his finally days and then to be told by my Mom through knitting group gossip that my previously betroved is thrilled to tell the world he’s expecting another child (a year after I lost our child).

It’s funny how these things happen because just when I think I should miss the parade, I show up anyways... and although there is rain during the parade I look beside me and realize that someone special is standing there holding up an umbrella small enough that I need to come closer and thick enough to keep even the biggest drops of precipitation off the stash of candy I have brought for old time sake.