Alone I Walk
by Julie Wenzel
I would like to start off by saying that I wore the ugliest shirt I owned that day. And for that, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin. I'm not a fashionista by any means, but I do like to look at least half ways put together.
It wasn't that I was running late for class and grabbed the wrong shirt. I didn't even show up for class that day.
The problem was the washing machine...again.
I had the quarters. I went to the campus store, bought a notebook and a box of pens, and then asked the cashier to give me five dollars worth of quarters while she was at it.
But, like any other typical day there was an “Out of Order” sign written in faded marker on a notebook piece of paper, across the machine.
So at the end of my washing machine production, wearing my ugly shirt, with a pocket full of quarters, I missed my parents all the more. College wasn't the easiest thing in the world. It wasn't the classes, or making friends. It was the homesickness. I missed the home cooked meals.
As a kid, I took the washing machine in our house for granted. Laundry detergent and fabric softener always magically appeared the next day when we ran out.
I missed how my dad would fill my car up with gas every time I ran low in high school. For a while in my life, I was able to pretend that the world was a happy place. Sure there were bad in the world, but it was comforting to know my parents would be there for me.
Problem was, no one was there to take care of my parents.
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