family importance

Today is really Friday, but it feels like a Sunday.  I'm heading back to MY home tomorrow evening and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to it.  As much as I love spending time with my brother, I'm looking forward to going home to my own bed, my own room, my own house.

It's weird being home.  It's weird to drive down the same street I grew up on.  It's weird to walk into the same house I grew up in.

My brother asked me if I would ever move back to Pittsburgh.  Truth be told, never.  I know that sounds harsh, but Pittsburgh just isn't doing it for me anymore.  Besides my brother and a couple friends, I have nothing here for me.  The job market is lousy because the Steel City is still recovering from low-class economy.

I like the big city life because I never experienced it when I was growing up.  Our vacations were spent in upstate NY visiting family.  I guess I lived a somewhat sheltered childhood because I didn't grow up with cable television (my brother still doesn't have it - shocking, I know), central air (again, my brother still doesn't have it) or big vacation destinations.

My brother said something this weekend that really struck a cord in me:

"We were a poor family."

I never really considered my family to be "poor" growing up.  Sure, our parents never really bought us much stuff and we never wore labels, but I didn't think that meant we were poor.  But looking back on it now, our neighborhood is a low-class neighborhood (although you wouldn't think by looking at some of the houses in the area) and we went to a poor school district that was a center for school shootings (true story) and fights.
It's definitely not a school district I would ever send my kids to.  And while most school districts get better over time, it seems that ours has gotten worse.

I moved to a big city to give myself a better life.  I work hard for every penny I earn and I take pride in every penny I spend (regardless of my reasons for spending).  I don't have my parents income to fall back on.  I've used up some of my parents estate inheritance so I could put food on my table and a roof over my head.  I always thought I'd save that to buy my first house, but I've been using it to live my own life.

Last night my brother and I talked about something we rarely talk about - money.  While I've been trying to make a name for myself, so has my brother.  And only to realize now that he is a lot less fortunate than I am.  My brother basically put his own life on hold so that I could have one of my own.  He sacrificed his future [with his wife] so that I could have my "big city" life.  He's barely making ends meat.  He has no full-time job and barely any health insurance.  I want to help him but I'm at such a huge loss.  I owe him so much but I don't know where to begin.

Sometimes I really despise living 300 miles away from him because I can't spend more time with him like I have this weekend and I can't help him out with finances like he needs it.  Sure, I can send him money every once in a while, but I'd rather take him and his wife out to a nice dinner on a Saturday night because I know they'd appreciate that more.

It's been a rough Thanksgiving weekend for me between my dog dying and both of my brothers being very sick.  I'm shocked I haven't had a huge mental break down yet.  But this weekend definitely made me realize and value the importance of family.  It's difficult when all three of us live so far away from each other, but it makes "going home for the holidays" so much sweeter.


As much as I'm looking forward to going back to my home, I can't wait to come back to this home for Christmas...