No Right to Rant
I have no right to complain. I rant about everything...and I shouldn't. Ever. Because life is so good.
Dustin is 12 years old. He lives with his father and sisters. The oldest sister is 18 and has two kids of her own. His mother died a few years ago. It was very sudden and completely unexpected. She was in her thirties.
Dustin's father tries to keep up, but they have a hard time. He usually just wears his pajamas because he has nothing else to wear. They only ever have the bear necesities.
Christi's brother Corey brought Dustin to my aunt's house this weekend. They went swimming, played video games, and bought junk food at Wegmans. Dustin picked out a box of cheese nips and a bag of potato chips. He turned to my aunt and thanked her as if she had given him a million dollars. "I wish you were my mom. Can I call you Mom?" And so he did.
Aunt Vicki was cleaning out her room his weekend and let the boys pick out a few things. Dustin chose a little whiteboard and a Hannah Montana blanket. He acted like it was Christmas morning. "But Dustin, that's a girl blanket..." "I don't care. I've never felt anything this soft in my whole life!" He never put it down.
They gave him a haircut to fix up the uneven ends his father had attempted to trim. And when he saw that there was pie for dessert, his eyes were as big as the pie itself.
Whenever he was out of earshot, my aunt would say quietly, "What else can I give you Dustin, when I want to give you the world?"
But then he went home. This was his vacation. It is my reality. I have no right to complain.
Dustin is 12 years old. He lives with his father and sisters. The oldest sister is 18 and has two kids of her own. His mother died a few years ago. It was very sudden and completely unexpected. She was in her thirties.
Dustin's father tries to keep up, but they have a hard time. He usually just wears his pajamas because he has nothing else to wear. They only ever have the bear necesities.
Christi's brother Corey brought Dustin to my aunt's house this weekend. They went swimming, played video games, and bought junk food at Wegmans. Dustin picked out a box of cheese nips and a bag of potato chips. He turned to my aunt and thanked her as if she had given him a million dollars. "I wish you were my mom. Can I call you Mom?" And so he did.
Aunt Vicki was cleaning out her room his weekend and let the boys pick out a few things. Dustin chose a little whiteboard and a Hannah Montana blanket. He acted like it was Christmas morning. "But Dustin, that's a girl blanket..." "I don't care. I've never felt anything this soft in my whole life!" He never put it down.
They gave him a haircut to fix up the uneven ends his father had attempted to trim. And when he saw that there was pie for dessert, his eyes were as big as the pie itself.
Whenever he was out of earshot, my aunt would say quietly, "What else can I give you Dustin, when I want to give you the world?"
But then he went home. This was his vacation. It is my reality. I have no right to complain.