For just about every Monday I get to live there’s some point in the day where Monday Monday plays in my head “…Monday Monday so good to me…” Do you know the song? By The Mamas and The Papas. Today was unlike other Mondays. It was great. Not because of the mere 16¢ I found or the two barbeque pulled pork burgers I had devoured. (Big thanks to my man’s cousin for whipping up those bad boys). With all the packing going on at the house on Edison Drive maybe I should have helped out a little bit more but with how cold it was in Amy and Jerry’s house I decided I wasn’t going to tolerate the chill today. Luckily within the clutter that stood stagnant in the living room were three different types of button ups. My man was packing up in the kitchen with one of Jerry’s sons (Buff jr.) and told me “Baby, just use one of those shirts.” So I looked at them on the grey couch’s arm and reluctantly grabbed the tan and orange, plaid, 2x Wrangler shirt on the top of the stack. Put it on left arm first then right and buttoned the snaps and headed my dazed ass to the work truck to grab a pen so I could edit my poem “My Cowboy”. I didn’t have a care in the world wearing a washed faced and finger brushed pony tail and a fashion combo I would call “country goth” because of my grey wife beater and oversized ‘jamas black with white skull and crossbones along with the long sleeve button up. On the way back to the trailer on Alyson Lane my man and I talked about the future. Home Sweet Home, for now, where we will be practically bunk bed roommates with our family friend who is totally down-to-earth. The highlight of today was calling my mom and dad. She lives closer than he in Pflugerville, Tx and he more south in Riviera, Tx with my gramma. I talked to each of them for about forty-five minutes. With my mom we talked about more personal things, my brother and getting matching tattoos before I move out of the country to the Philippines by January with my man. So we have lots of time to discuss the matching tattoos. After I was done talking to mom I called my dad and finally talked about why it is he rarely calls. Just like grampa (R.I.P), He said “If we do not call we must be doing good and when we do call him it’s because something is wrong and we need him”. I didn’t know what to say but I knew I was going to do my best to show him things don’t have to be this way. After we were done talking more weight had lifted from my heavy heart. I am grateful for my parents. I feel like I am me again. I can’t wait to show my dad how close we can be. I don’t care if he is not looking to settle his boots under any other woman’s bed but his own. He’s my dad, and I believe me, my brother and mom will always be the realist love he ever had. I told my dad why I thought they didn’t work out. Being young, insecure and not communicating. I honestly truly believe communication is key for all types of relationships. Most importantly love. Love conquers all. CONQUERS ALL, so why wouldn’t I want to live by it. Greeting each day, myself and the people in my life, even the passerby’s with love. Humbly grateful. That’s how i felt today. With my Red Red Wine fingernails I painted in the dim light of our room, I now laid in the middle. Two mattresses side by side. Sabotage playing on Annie’s X-box. Annie’s t.v up against the wall on Annie’s bed. My man to my right already passed out from working so hard today. I thank God again for his love. Tomorrow will be a new day I may or may not face, and I’m okay with that.