It’s freezing today. The temp gets lower as the wind blows through Mayberry, giving the trees a good lil shake. I have faucets dripping and fingers crossed. I hate it when it freezes. It makes me feel like all the pipes will burst and fall through the ceiling. That happened to Bennie and I once…in a tiny rent house where we lived when I was pregnant with J. I had no idea that pipes froze, and Bennie was on nights and forgot to tell me. There wasn’t a pipe in that house that was in tact. I thought the landlord was going to have a heart attack when he saw it. I mean, the pipes didn’t fall through the ceiling, thank goodness, but it weren’t nothin nice, I’ll tell ya that much!
I had planned to go see Mom this weekend. Last weekend, actually, but I was still sick, as I am currently. This bug is so weird; one day, you’re fine…the next, you’re as sick as you ever were. I don’t want Mom to catch it, much less Dad. He looked so frail when I saw him Thanksgiving. It’s shocking…how time has its way with us. He used to be so big and strong. He was a violent man. Brutal in his way. I suppose this is how the universe settles up with men like him. It’s breaking my heart. He barely recognizes me anymore and he seems to know he should. He gets so frustrated and embarrassed when he can’t remember. He does remember the war, though. Of all things…war. He remembers meeting Chesty Puller and boot camp…Guadalcanal…Fonte Ridge. He remembers that he was a scout sniper and that ‘Japs are really heavy when they’re stuck to your bayonet’. He’ll talk about the war for a few minutes at a time, then he drifts away again. I don’t mind. I know all of his stories by heart, but I still love to hear them from him.
I don’t think my dad had much to come back to after the war. I mean…he had a family…got a job…did the regular Joe thing as long as he could stand it. My grandmother was a rich girl in love with a U.S. Marine uniform. I don’t think she ever gave much thought to the man who wore it. That’s all ancient history now. I just wish that he would stay with us for a while longer. That’s all.
Mom’s giving away a ton of her Christmas collectibles and I am lucky to be at the head of that line. I don’t really celebrate Christmas, as I think it’s a crock of shit, but I do enjoy some of the decorations and the feelings they bring out in people. Not that there will be anyone but me to see them. Well, J and M will. But…no children or grandbabies to do for…no little hands grabbing at things on the tree. Hell, I don’t even have a cat anymore to bash the tree about. I hate being alone. Anyway…I’ll be at Mom’s for Christmas Eve to watch my great-nieces and nephews tear open gifts they’ll never play with. Christmas Day, I’ll leave for home so I can get back before the meth heads rob my house. lol! Joy to the freaking world!!! lolololol!
It bothers me that so many people are alone for Christmas. I mean really alone. Children in need of shoes to go to school in…needing coats to keep them warm. Veterans bundled up in alleys, stoned out of their minds just trying to keep it together. And, on that day, as every other day, more than 20 of our vets will kill themselves. Bam. Done. Over with. Just like that. Holy shit.
Well, that was nice…Not. I just find it hard to celebrate anything anymore. Bennie was the one who loved Christmas. He was like a little kid, even when we didn’t have money to buy extravagant gifts. He just dug it…the lights and smells and food and movies. I’ll never forget the first Christmas after our oldest was born. I’ve never seen a man so happy. Content. Then, along came J, and there was another lil boy to share the wonders of Christmas with. You should’ve seen it when our grandson was born! Oh, Lordy…Bennie was the best father. You can forgive a lot from a man like that. I did and I do not regret it. Not anymore. I just remember the look on his face every Christmas morning when he’d come down the stairs and set up the camera. He loved to catch the looks on the boys’ faces when they saw their presents. We’d spend hours watching his home movies and laughing our asses off with a bottle of Vodka when it was all said and done. And he always got me something special. Even when it was a little something, he still let me know that he was grateful that I’d given him sons. The last gift he gave me was Christmas before last. Maybe the one before. A pair of diamond hoops. Very delicate and pretty. I loved them, but didn’t understand why he’d gone to the trouble, considering the state of our marriage. So, I asked him why and he said he’d gotten them to say ‘thank you’ for giving him sons, per tradition. That was so sweet of him. I wish I could go back and appreciate it for what it was. I honestly figured he’d just nailed some hussy and felt bad about it. Omg. I hate myself for that. But, that’s how he was. And, he was also a man who thought the sun rose and set on his boys. Besides, he never felt bad about nailing a hussy. lol!!! Not even once!!! I should’ve known better than that…
I guess I should get going. I’ve been up for a couple of days now and need to try to simmer the Hell down. There’s just so much to think about in this world. It’s so large and there’s so much to learn. No matter how fast the mind flies, it just can’t keep up…Such is life.