Dear Lorelai, I miss you.

 

I've often joked that when I grow up I want to be Lorelai Gilmore. Even now, Lorelai's perfect imperfections make her someone I can admire and relate to. (Definitely more so now than when I was fifteen.) While the majority of single moms don't live in quaint, neighbor friendly towns like Stars Hollow, nor own businesses like Lorelai's Inn, the heartbreaking realism captured in her story is something any woman can empathize  with, mother or not. 

My mom, she's amazing. You'll hear me sing her praise time and time again, but like Lorelai, I've yearned for the strength to tell her when to back off - consequence aside - only to remember all she's done right. 

Dawson's Creek; Dawson's love for Joey and the years of heartache that followed, I felt that and at times still do. 

Where o' where for art thou, television I can relate to?

My DVR is working overtime, recording my ever-growing list of sublime TV. Admittedly, I'm a FANatic. Sons of Anarchy, The Walking Dead, Once Upon A Time, New Girl, The Vampire Diaries, to name a few, are pleasures that I feel, in no way, guilty about. Week by week they allow me to take a break from my own life to concentrate on someone else's. The gifts that keep on giving, until they end, like the Gilmore Girls. I'm not bitter. 

While my weekly regime is cherished, the emotional connections the characters of old and I made, are fondly missed.