Love from close up

I love it when my family comes to town, and it isn't because they take me out to fantastic dinners, buy food for my anorexic refrigerator, and keep my closet filled with new coats. Well that might be part of it.

It is mostly because they have seen me at my best and worst, and are still there. I bring my parents pride, and they give me love. I give them grief, and they give me patience. I give them anxiety, and they give me support. I give them disappointment, and they give me hope. And then there is my sister.

Had we not been related, there is a good chance we would never have been friends. We are the opposite in every way. Sometimes, we disagree just because. My parents call us the sun and the moon. But then again, there are those many times where the two happily share the same sky, bringing delight to those who might witness the spectacle. As different as we might be, she is my favorite person in the world.

They were all in town this week. It was only for a few days, but it has been fantastic. They are ridiculous, fun, lazy, hungry, silly, and never bored. We spend quantity time in each others company, and are more than satisfied. They root through my cupboards like they own the place, and I couldn't be happier. The only thing they seem to be apprehensive about is driving my car.

But then again, I really love my car.

Anonymous confession number 1

When I was very little, my parents fought. They would scream and yell and slam doors. My mom would get in the car and drive off, while my father would find a way to keep the anger alive. I was scared, and I was sad. I would hide away in a dark corner of the house until I fell asleep. Somehow, I always ended up in my bed.

I needed to find a way to feel happy. There weren't a lot of option for a seven year old, but I found a way. I stole money from their wallets. A dollar here, a few quarters there. I took this money and bought something sweet from the Good Humor man.

I don't like ice cream anymore. That, and I am lactose intolerant.

here's to the good old days.

There are always decisions to make.

I just do not understand why they should have to be mine. I don't have any of the answers, and I can't tell you what to do. Try something. See if it works. If it doesn't, try something else.

I don't know how to make this situation better. I don't know if it can be better. You want to try, then try. Don't sit and cry that things are not how they used to be, then do nothing. If it bothers you so much, change it.

It's true, I can't stand looking at you right now. Maybe it is because you are completely on pins and needles around me. Maybe it's because you look at me like I am made of cotton candy and it is about to rain. Everything I do or say makes you nervous. How is that fair to me? If I am not mistaken, I believe that I was the one that was wronged. Why should I have to be the bitch in this scenario?

I would say give me time, but that would be forever. I would say give me space, but I don't think we could survive that. I would say that it is over, but that would break my heart.

I am not sure what to do. Can you fix this?