I just never know what it going to send me reeling. It could have been the fact that Jess had one side of her head shaved and then, just to shake things up, dyed the fuzzy spot bright pink. Or perhaps it might have been the conditions of the Frat house that I helped Harrison move into last month which no self-respecting mother would ever have agreed to had she seen it prior to the signing of the lease. It might even have been the accumulating snow and resulting days of cancelled classes which will likely propel us into the depths of July before school lets out for the summer. Nah, it was none of those things. Instead, it was a parking spot. Well, sort of.
This is not the first time I have bitched, moaned, complained and, yes, cried, over such a predicament. Nor, I suspect, will it be the last. With the disclaimer of fully acknowledging that it is a first world problem and one that I should be a little bit ashamed of fixating on, I will share. And, yes, I know, again, that it isn’t about the parking spot.
For twenty years I lived in a single family home not three minutes from where I am living now. While there, I had three housemates: my husband (now my ex), my son (now at college) and my daughter (who sleeps til noon on those blasted snow days). Between the husband and eldest son, the driveway plowing was taken care of while I was in the house lovingly baking cookies and preparing hot cocoa for when they were done.  It was often a long, protracted event for them but once it was done it was done, save for whatever “plow pile” might crop up throughout the storm. We were dug out, free to move about the world and armed with the comforting knowledge that the driveway would be open and available when we arrived home. Man, I miss that.
Now, despite the fact that I have engaged in the solitary (and thankless) exercise of digging out my car not once, not twice, but three times from this past storm alone I am literally fearful of ever relinquishing the spot. While I was painstakingly removing the snow and carting it by the (crazy heavy) shovelful three spaces down to respectfully deposit it onto a pile away from neighboring cars, no one else seemed to be doing the same. On either side of my humble little Honda are two cars which have, by all accounts, been abandoned. That is not even taking into account the countless other spaces which are going to be occupied til May. So….when I have to leave to, oh, I don’t know…go to work…I will, in all likelihood, arrive home to find that some asshole has taken over MY spot. And today, that was enough to make me cry.
I tried to be logical and pragmatic. Really, I did. I tried to be optimistic. That didn’t work, either. I tried to be open-minded. Yeah, no go. So, I cried.
I’ve thought a lot about this. Yes, I get that there is a practical side to this; a “move your meat lose your seat” kind of thing. But, more to the point, it is a matter of feeling safe, feeling secure and feeling free. I don’t feel safe: I am going to take my life in my hands maneuvering out of my perfectly shoveled spot to hit the open road. I don’t feel secure: Someone is, most definitely, going to snag that spot that very second I leave it.  I don’t feel free: See all of the above. And, at the end (and frankly, the beginning) of the day, that is really all anyone really wants…to feel safe, secure and free.
And, yes, I will bring this back to my last blog post which took a lot of (expected and appropriate) criticism. I do not care what Bruce, Maura, Jess or Harrison’s Frat house look like. I care that they that they feel safe, secure and free, because, in whatever iteration and for whatever reason one does not feel those three things it sucks. Trust me, I know.
Today I don’t feel safe, secure and free because of a parking spot. On any given day, Bruce, Maura or Jess my not feel SSF because they are not accepted, or understood. In fact, any one of us is at risk of finding themselves in that situation, and, perhaps this is my momma bear coming through: I don’t like that. Not one little bit.
I know that the snow will (eventually) melt. I know that I will, someday soon, be able to find safety, security and freedom not encumbered by a parking spot. But today I ain’t feelin’ it. So I cried.
 With not quite my blessing, but my approval
 Okay, I didn’t do that.
 You bet your ass I am considering it exercise.
 Which had a good six inches on me..and I am 5’6”
 I would. It is prime real estate, beautifully cleared, nary a sign of snow.
 Safe, secure and free