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Just Another Day

Today is Thanksgiving and I’m by myself.  No turkey…no dressing….no problem.  It’s just another day.  It’s not the first Thanksgiving I have spent alone and I feel sure it won’t be the last.
It used to be a pretty big deal in our family.  It wasn’t complete without my famous macaroni and cheese and that atrocious white gravy that Loser loved but we were together and we enjoyed it.
When we were in C********, I extended an invitation to all the people at the newspaper who had to work and couldn’t make it home.  Among those “people” was D**** (one of the women that Loser was rumored to have had a thing with.)
I already had the house decorated for Christmas and I saw D**** look at Loser and say almost in a whisper, “your house is just beautiful.”  I caught a glimpse of Loser as he leaned back, took a drag off of his cigarette, smiled and said “why, thank you.”  He hadn’t done any of the decorations so why was he was thanking her?
The last Thanksgiving that we celebrated as a quasi-family was when my sister, her boyfriend and mama came to see us.  We sat down at the table and Loser asked mama if she wanted to “say the blessing.”  I watched mama, praying.  I was almost waiting for her to say something like “forgive me for treating her the way I did.”  That was a joke….kind of like when Losers’ mama had to pray before every meal and as as soon as she ended it with “thank the Lord,” she started bashing me.
When I was younger and Thanksgiving rolled around, it was a big deal, too.  My grandparents and I were invited for dinner (I’m sure at my daddys’ insistence.)  My mama was a great cook and put out all the fixins’.
We always had to stay around long enough for me to wash the dishes.  That was the price for dinner, I guess.  My grandma and grandpa didn’t like it, but what could they do?  They tried to help and I could see the anger in mamas’ face.
Sometimes, mamas’ half-sister and her husband would drive up from F******.  Mamas’ sister had quite a story.  She was born with two wombs and they were both facing backwards.  Back then, there was nothing that could be done so she was unable to have children.  She looked a lot like mama, even though they had a different daddy.  She played the accordion with great expertise and went to nursing school at fifty years old.  She was twelve years older than mama and called her “tiny.”  She didn’t like me and she let me know it.
Her husband, M*****, was a bible-thumping, Hell fire and brimstone, in your face Baptist preacher.
Every time they were there, M***** would take me in the back room and tell me that any time I wanted to “get out of there, to just let him know and he would come get me.”  I thought he was being sympathetic because he knew how mama treated me and wanted to protect me.  I remember him being “handsy” and he watched me when I was around but I never thought anything about it.
Years…and I mean years later, I found out that this wonderful “God person”….this Baptist preacher….was nothing but a scumbag.  He would fool around with some woman, get her pregnant, divorce my aunt and marry the woman.  After the baby was born, he would divorce the woman and then re-marry my aunt.  This happened three times.  That begs the question…why did my aunt keep taking him back?
I have been told that she was “sent out on the street” by Granny to help make money.  Mama told me that when she worked at the telephone company, she had to give Granny half of everything she made.  Granny was another one of those “daily bible reading, praying, God people.”
Apparently, my uncle was one of my aunts’ regulars and decided to get her off the street.  I imagine my aunt was so grateful that she forgave any and everything he did.
I visited their graves and those children that he sired didn’t even care enough to put the year he died on the tombstone.  I don’t know if he ever had anything to do with them after they were born and I don’t even know if they were girls or boys.  I don’t know where they live but I would never try to find them anyway, so it doesn’t matter.
There won’t be any “happy Thanksgiving” texts or phone calls for me.  My daughters will probably celebrate with their extended families and I imagine Loser and his attachment with descend on his mamas’ house with his brothers and their wives.  I’m sure a good time will be had by all.  This year, Losers’ mama will probably say how thankful she is that the attachment came into Losers’ life and then say…..“thank the Lord” but she won’t start bashing herLoser would never stand for that.
My son will sit in jail, maybe wondering what everybody in the family is doing and being sad.  I’m too far away this year to go see him and he isn’t allowed to get phone calls.  I doubt if any of his sisters would think about visiting him and I am almost certain that if Loser was there, he would never take time away from that attachment to visit him.
But, this is a time for giving thanks.  Should I be thankful for a crazed, revengeful mama?  Should I be thankful for an apathetic daddy?  Should I be thankful for a former spineless, cowardly, unfaithful, disease-giving, man-whore husband?  Should I be thankful for an abusive, sociopathic, alcoholic former mother-in-law?  Should I be thankful for the children who are going to be so excited to see their sperm donor and his attachment instead of me? No, I don’t think I should.
Should I be thankful that I wasn’t one of those children who were beaten to death by a parent?  Should I be thankful that I’m not one of those wives or girlfriends whose husbands or boyfriends murdered them?  Should I be thankful for all the support and good wishes from the people who are reading my blog?  Yes, I should and I am.
Wishing all of you a happy Thanksgiving.

2 thoughts on “Just Another Day

  1. Please tell me that Boost comes in pumpkin flavor so that you can at least get in the spirit. Better yet go out and get a real meal. Be thankful that you don’t have to share the day with the fucktards…….Happy Thanksgiving.

    Like

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