Break me

C

August 12, 2013

Hi. Mom.

 The family has been talking about you more. I know none of us have talked about you very much for a long time, but now they are.

At the dinner table for this past week, someone says something about you sometime. I'm sure nobody else is noticing, but I sure am.

It's great. It really is great.

It is great that our family is finally getting brave enough to address the white elephant in the room. You know that I'm glad someone is saying what needs to be said, and I'm glad I'm not just staring at a white elephant by myself. I never did know what to say. Of course, you would be the said white elephant.

I'm a mean person. I can never say nice things. But I love listening to everyone talk about you.

 There was that one time with the turkey. My brother brought it up.

Whenever dad would make a turkey, the whole thing would be too big for the family to eat. Your children were little kids then, so dad usually froze it in those little freezer boxes to save for later.

One time dad or someone got out a turkey container to eat, but then I guess it got forgotten about in the fridge. That would have been okay, and it was okay until dad found the turkey in the fridge two months later.

Us kids were helping dad get lunch on, and dad pulled it out of the refrigerator. "Oh what's this?! Oh, it's this really yummy looking turkey!!"

Oh dad. Always trying to add a twist to the word yummy. I guess his turkey would have yummy if you ignore its odor and the fact that there was mold growing on it. It was legit mold. It was the real blue and green fuzzy mold.

But dad cheerfully scooped off the mold and warmed up his turkey in the microwave. And you were just sitting there, watching the lunch preparations. You never helped prepare meals.

All was good until dad was putting turkey on everyone's plates. He got to your plate.

"I am not eating this." You said.

"Why not? It looks delicious." Dad said.

"No, it's not delicious. There is mold growing on this. I'm not eating it." You refused.

"I admit. This turkey may be getting a little old and needs to be used, but there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. Nothing wrong with it at all." Dad.

"I'm not eating it. And neither are the children." You looked around with your big brown eyes and raised eyebrows. "Children, don't you dare eat this."

 I'll give the ball to you. You always knew exactly what to say. When you wanted to make someone- i.e. dad -mad, you always knew what to say to make that person mad. You knew how to make him want to throw stuff, and you knew how to make him yell, and you knew how to make him smile.

You knew how to do that with me too, but I don't want to say how you made me smile.

Your stubbornness made dad mad.

Another note. You always said that I had a stubborn streak. You said my stubborn streak was the worst part about me. You said it was my evil, my dark side. I don't know. My stubbornness came from you. Didn't you know? No, you were far more stubborn than I ever was.

Too stubborn to accept that your own stubbornness was mirrored through me.

Anyways, dad got mad at you. Yelled a little bit. He said that nobody would leave the table until every bite of delicious turkey was gone.