When I grew up, my dad was a shoe salesman for Bostonian shoes and he was transferred all over the country. Start up new stores, get `em running, move on. I went to a different school every year. And my dream always was, "I don't want to move anymore."
Someone once asked me, "What do you want to do?"
"I want to get married, have a couple of kids, have a house that I never move out of, and go to work at a company where I can retire." So there's the dream. And 31 years later, the dream is no more.
You just do what you have to do. My husband and I have talked about this. We'll probably always have to work. But yeah, you internalize that, and I think that's why three years later, it still hurts me so bad. I can't let go of that frustration, that bitterness, and that anger ... it's strange that it just haunts you for that long. And even now, bringing this up, I haven't slept well for the last two nights, just thinking about it.
You know how sometimes it's comforting to go back and re-live some things, even though it's a tragedy? When my dad died of cancer, I spent six weeks sitting by his bedside in hospice. Those were some of the best times we ever had, and it's comforting to revisit some of those scenes in your mind.
Not this. This just ... hurts. Maybe it's because this was my dream all my life and now it's gone.
From a Brooklyn craft brewer to an event tent designer, America's urban core is home to a host of novel, fast-growing small businesses. Here's the top 100, as ranked by the Initiative for a Competitive Inner City.
