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Jennifer and Mir were writing about shoes yesterday. It got me thinking about the one thing I have tried not to think about all summer long.
But, we’re approaching the two-weeks-and-counting part of the end of summer and I now must do the inevitable. After all, how much longer can I put off making that trip to the shoe store to buy the annual pair of sneakers?
Little Bug’s sneakers are, well, atrocious. Yup, they’re downright worn out. Battered and tattered. Worn straight through to the inner lining. They have done their duty and now will be honorably retired.
I remember buying them last year, just about at the two-weeks-and-counting time. So much has happened in those twelve months since our visit to the wonderful shoe store where everyone takes care of you.
Little Bug was full of anticipation about second grade. It would be another year with the same teacher, who had been so amazing with him in first grade. We all breathed a sigh of relief that he’d be in good hands and have another year of encouragement and support. And, he was so excited to be returning to a classroom full of just about all the same classmates.
We had no way of knowing then just how personally challenging the next several months would be.
September and October went along quickly, but November and December were full of exhaustion and turmoil. My mom’s health began to decline quickly, after a four-year wrestling match with breast cancer, and Little Bug and I were on the road mostly every week driving 600 miles round trip to be on hand for doctor visits, treatments, support.
At the exact same time, business revenues took their annual hiatus as the close of the year approached. Less cash flow and sporadic time in the office didn’t bode well for the next few months.
By the time January rolled around, we hit our all-time low in monthly billings. Tom had to have back surgery – it was painful and frustrating for him. And, my mother had only a few more weeks of life left in her.
And, it broke my heart to think that Little Bug would not have her around to dote on him as a grandmother should. He wouldn’t have her to call to tell all about his latest success in school, or how his team had just won a game, or the great fort he and his friends had just built in the woods. They weren’t going to share birthdays together again – hers on the 17th and his on the 19th of January. He wouldn’t hear her words of awe at how wonderful it all was.
He was now only going to have eight years of memories.
The winter of 2008 turned out to be one of the snowiest on record in New Hampshire. I felt just darkness. I got up each morning, got Little Bug off to school and dragged myself through the day, until I fell into beg at 9 p.m. Then, I did it all again – day after long, dark day.
This year, Spring did not arrive with the traditional surge of business. People are just too afraid in this scary economy to invest in marketing right now, even though they know they should. By the end of May, some drastic and painful decisions needed to be made.
I cut back the hours of one of our staffers and laid off my husband. (We came to that decision together, and yes, he still is living with me, and no, he doesn’t flip me off whenever I walk in the room!)
A month later, school ended. The torn and tattered sneakers were going to have to somehow make it through the summer. (Thank God the sandals from last year still fit.)
Just about the same time, a colleague who owns another agency approached me about partnering with her. She had a staffer leaving and asked if we could support some of her workload. It gave me the opportunity to bring our staffer back on to her regular hours.
We have plugged along through the summer – as have the sneakers. Business has held steady for three months, and while we’re nowhere near where we were last year, we can continue.
Tom has recovered completely from the surgery and feels great – physically – and now is out in the job market, feeling frustrated and down – mentally. (I’m amazed he doesn’t flip me off
