I came "home"
This morning, coming home after ANOTHER 10-hour day at work (at which I was coached for "not being productive" ... but I don't want to get into that), I came home to a partial non-shocker--No leftovers in the fridge.
Last night, my "family" went to my aunt Yvonne and Uncle Steve's (or it was their daughter and son-in-law's, I can't recall) for Thanksgiving dinner in Winnsboro (near Columbia). They called around 6:45.
"Thank goodness Daddy reminded me to call and wake you up."
"It's only 45 minutes after you asked, and I told you, when I wanted to wake up."
"We're in the middle of dinner. It's very, very good."
"Well, I'm gonna get up and make me a sandwich. Thanks for calling, Mum."
Brady comes over a little late; he had to go to Wal-Mart to get anything hot to eat. Everyone else closed at 6, or weren't open at all. Sad and funny that burger flippers, the most frowned-upon, look-down-noseyish work force in the nation... Gets Thanksgiving off. I digress.
He comes over and we watch episode 5 of Homeland while I make and eat a sandwich. Not a great sandwich, just egg and toast.
We go to work, walking a quarter mile from our cars in the freezing cold, soon to appease the greedy, capitalistic curs our nation lauds, coerced with "deals" in trade for loathesome strife and a breeding ground for breaking nearly all of the ten commandments... I digress again.
Anyway, bullshit bullshit bullshit later, we get our tiny lunch break and management has supplied us with smushed half-sandwiches half-wrapped in cellophane. Another sandwich, but at least it's food and I didn't have to buy it.
All night, I had the displeasing jealousy listening to my coworkers gush about how stuffed they were from their dinners, how they had no room for the sandwiches, they would have so much food at home, etc. and so forth. I sit down and a lady I see and talk to maybe a few times a month comes over and talks the usual business that I normally see her about whenever I do get to talk to her. I'm scrounging things to make a palatable meal: condiments from different drawers and shelves in the fridge, nabbing some cold, leftover potato wedges the deli provided us, looking to see if there were any forgotten things in the freezer, and as I sit down, she walks past again and asked how my Thanksgiving dinner was. I told her ... the sandwiches were my dinner, (In retrospect, I tear up at the sound of that, in regards to how much I actually am blessed with food most of the time.)
"Hold on a minute, before you open that sandwich."
"?"
"_________ (I forgot who she said) brought a few extra plates from her house, in case no one got to have thanksgiving dinner. It should have enough on it. Here you go."
Sandy pulled it out of the fridge and sat it and another plate of sweets (a slice of red velvet cake, pumpkin pie, a piece of rum cake, and some oreo balls) and sat it in front of me.
"How come you didn't get any dinner?"
Dear God, what to say?
"My family went to Columbia to be with the rest of my family for Thanksgiving dinner.They called to let me know how good it was."
She just made this funny, sad-looking face, and said "I hope you enjoy it, Holly. Happy Thanksgiving."
A few hours later I saw her again and thanked her again for the food. The ^-^ face I made when I popped the first oreo ball told her enough, she said, lol. I told her I could only hold half the plate, it was so good and I was really full. "I'm glad I get to walk around and help customers all night to work it off just so I can finish it tomorrow!" She laughed at me then, but the good-hearted kind of way.
I'm weeping now as I type this.
I came home to a fridge devoid of even a Ziploc container. Every year they (my extended family) make a lot of deviled eggs because they know they're my favorite... And not even one of those were in the fridge when I came home, dead-tired, 20 minutes ago. I was too let down to go straight to bed so I had to come here...
Sandy has a few little trinkets near her desk, one of a caricature angel made of wood that says "be someone's angel today" and I weep, too, because my family has no concept of charity like that. Not even to their own blood. And sometimes I honestly feel like they will not be spared suffering in Hell for how they are.
It's hard to accept.
Which is why I feel no remorse for not warning Mum I'm leaving.
She is no mother to me.
Last night, my "family" went to my aunt Yvonne and Uncle Steve's (or it was their daughter and son-in-law's, I can't recall) for Thanksgiving dinner in Winnsboro (near Columbia). They called around 6:45.
"Thank goodness Daddy reminded me to call and wake you up."
"It's only 45 minutes after you asked, and I told you, when I wanted to wake up."
"We're in the middle of dinner. It's very, very good."
"Well, I'm gonna get up and make me a sandwich. Thanks for calling, Mum."
Brady comes over a little late; he had to go to Wal-Mart to get anything hot to eat. Everyone else closed at 6, or weren't open at all. Sad and funny that burger flippers, the most frowned-upon, look-down-noseyish work force in the nation... Gets Thanksgiving off. I digress.
He comes over and we watch episode 5 of Homeland while I make and eat a sandwich. Not a great sandwich, just egg and toast.
We go to work, walking a quarter mile from our cars in the freezing cold, soon to appease the greedy, capitalistic curs our nation lauds, coerced with "deals" in trade for loathesome strife and a breeding ground for breaking nearly all of the ten commandments... I digress again.
Anyway, bullshit bullshit bullshit later, we get our tiny lunch break and management has supplied us with smushed half-sandwiches half-wrapped in cellophane. Another sandwich, but at least it's food and I didn't have to buy it.
All night, I had the displeasing jealousy listening to my coworkers gush about how stuffed they were from their dinners, how they had no room for the sandwiches, they would have so much food at home, etc. and so forth. I sit down and a lady I see and talk to maybe a few times a month comes over and talks the usual business that I normally see her about whenever I do get to talk to her. I'm scrounging things to make a palatable meal: condiments from different drawers and shelves in the fridge, nabbing some cold, leftover potato wedges the deli provided us, looking to see if there were any forgotten things in the freezer, and as I sit down, she walks past again and asked how my Thanksgiving dinner was. I told her ... the sandwiches were my dinner, (In retrospect, I tear up at the sound of that, in regards to how much I actually am blessed with food most of the time.)
"Hold on a minute, before you open that sandwich."
"?"
"_________ (I forgot who she said) brought a few extra plates from her house, in case no one got to have thanksgiving dinner. It should have enough on it. Here you go."
Sandy pulled it out of the fridge and sat it and another plate of sweets (a slice of red velvet cake, pumpkin pie, a piece of rum cake, and some oreo balls) and sat it in front of me.
"How come you didn't get any dinner?"
Dear God, what to say?
"My family went to Columbia to be with the rest of my family for Thanksgiving dinner.They called to let me know how good it was."
She just made this funny, sad-looking face, and said "I hope you enjoy it, Holly. Happy Thanksgiving."
A few hours later I saw her again and thanked her again for the food. The ^-^ face I made when I popped the first oreo ball told her enough, she said, lol. I told her I could only hold half the plate, it was so good and I was really full. "I'm glad I get to walk around and help customers all night to work it off just so I can finish it tomorrow!" She laughed at me then, but the good-hearted kind of way.
I'm weeping now as I type this.
I came home to a fridge devoid of even a Ziploc container. Every year they (my extended family) make a lot of deviled eggs because they know they're my favorite... And not even one of those were in the fridge when I came home, dead-tired, 20 minutes ago. I was too let down to go straight to bed so I had to come here...
Sandy has a few little trinkets near her desk, one of a caricature angel made of wood that says "be someone's angel today" and I weep, too, because my family has no concept of charity like that. Not even to their own blood. And sometimes I honestly feel like they will not be spared suffering in Hell for how they are.
It's hard to accept.
Which is why I feel no remorse for not warning Mum I'm leaving.
She is no mother to me.