Checkers

Earlier today the Weirdo posted "walking the fine line between being hopeful and being the queen of denial". I get that. I get her. It's stuff that holds an ever-present spot near the front of your mind, but bears so much weight you just don't want to talk about it.

I don't do defeat well. I'm usually an optimist until a little ways after there's no point anymore. I remember playing checkers with my grandfather as a kid. He believed in teaching that life is tough, so he didn't just let me win. When I was down to my last checker, backed into a corner with nowhere to go and no move left to make, I would spend whole minutes studying the board looking for any last chance I had to do something about it. My grandfather would laugh, knowing the game was over, but I wouldn't give in. Finally, grudgingly, I would concede - and it absolutely ate me up to do it.

When two officers both wanted to go to the same class recently there appeared to be no way to logistically make it happen. They were both on the same shift and manpower would be too drastically affected. Enter Anthony, Boy Wonder. I sat down and figured out a plan that involved switching and changing around half of patrol division, but in the end I had a viable plan. The Lieutenant shot it down because it was unrealistic, but I had a solution. I had a move.

I am stubborn and bull-headed and I won't stop hoping for another move. The Weirdo and I, our whole family, are waiting for a phone call about a liver transplant. If the call doesn't come this minute, there's always the next minute. If not today, there's tomorrow. We still have moves open to us.