…and alone." Especially after my first husband left me to care for four children without him.

Alone against the phone company:

We lived in a tiny trailer, and when I say "tiny" I mean an 18 foot travel trailer. I'd finally found an apartment, and needed to shut down our utilities before the move. Propane and electric, no problem. The telephone? Ah, well. It went something like this:

I gave the lady at the phone company all our identifying particulars, and she pulled up our records. I asked to have the phone service at that address shut off on our move date. "And are you the person in whose name the phone service is?", she asked. "No," I said, "I'm his wife." "Then I can't shut off the phone service without speaking to him," she said. "He isn't here. He moved to Arizona with another woman," I replied. Then I begged and pleaded, pointed out that the payments came from my checking account, while she continued to repeat that there was no way she could do as I asked.

I was frustrated. The girls were waking up from naps. My space was getting noisy. (Just one room, remember?)

I caved. "OK," I said. "You don't have to shut the service off. When we got this phone, the wires were routed through the little panel where the trailer electric goes. You don't have to send someone to disconnect it from the trailer. There's enough space to pass the phone out through the panel. I'll set it on the grass at the foot of the pole and leave it there.

"You can send the bills to his Arizona adress; it's …. and his phone number there is ….. Now that you have his contact information, you can get confirmation from him whether he wants it disconnected. I hope the rain doesn't hurt it any."

Feeling overwhelmed by the rising noise level, and totally defeated by the stubbornness of the customer service rep, I prepared to hang up.

"Oh," she said, "there's no need to do that. I'll have someone come and disconnect the line, and pick up the instrument on… what day did you say again?"

*sigh*

I am so grateful for fellow bloggers, particularly for this one. It has helped me get through some pretty miserable days.

Lisa is bringing boxES of wine, and Deborah's in for ice cream…wine floats for everyone.

Hugging you all right back.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to have some of you living down the street. With a sunroom or a porch swing. I imagine bringing beverages. Sipping and sitting for hours. Chatting. Hugging. And holding on until these feelings subside.

Of course we'd recycle the drink container(s).

And we'd meet on another porch or deck or living room next week. And we'd hold on to her until…

Well, you know. We've been there.

That's what makes us all sisters. Born of a digital search for someone to hold on to.

So hang on, sister. Hang on.