I only Hang with my Mole people

 
I did a search on mole people and found that in urban legend, they are the groups of people that live underground in the subway system.

I also found this.....

.....my mole people are much cuter and not quite as shocking....

And them I found him....



Alas my mole person....

I named him Harvey.

And on many days I feel like I have joined him in his little hole.

My life has evolved to a deeper level. After Samantha, copious amounts of small talk, surface-level talk drives me insane.

I no longer do well at parties with people I don't know. Here's how I imagine my conversations.....

"Yes I like to dabble in scrap booking but ever since we adopted our eighth cat, I'm just way too busy."

I imagine myself casually taking the last cheese straw and saying "Yeah, well, my daughter died."

But I don't , I don't do this. But these surface level conversations make me crazy.

I want to take things to a deeper level....let's dig deep, go below the surface, where it is dark and dirty, where it's kind of stinky....where life is real. 

And I love those who go with me. I love my mole people.

On Monday I went back to the job I left four years ago when Samantha got sick. I have been amazed at the people who stop by my desk with tears in their eyes and say, "I am so glad your back but I am so sorry about Samantha. I'm sorry you could come back because she is no longer here."

It's messy, it's dirty, they don't have to take things to a deeper level but they do. They allow me talk about my pain, my life...the muddy, crappy, poo that unravels when you go a little deeper.

And I am so very appreciative.

I love my mole people. And if you're hangin' with me, congrats, you have received mole person status.

Although you are much prettier than my green buggy friend above.

Let's get dirty.

When not hangin' with her mole people, you can find Heather at Samsmom