Daily Prompt: Write down the letters of the ABC. For each one, choose a word that begins with that letter. Now, write a post about anything — using all the words you’ve selected.
It’s been ages since I’ve eaten alphabet soup. Does it even exist anymore? I remember when I was a kid, my brother asked me if I wanted him to cook me an egg, and I said yes. I ate the egg, and he asked me if I wanted another, and I said yes. We went through and entire dozen eggs. Another time one of my brothers dared me to let him put tabasco on my eye. I did. Turned out to be a less than spectacular experience having tabasco seeping into my closed eye.
We were never a close family thanks to some serious mental illness issues that were never diagnosed. We had lots of bad, scary times, but I have a handful of good memories as well. Like the time my big brother took my other brother and me out fishing in some out-of-the-way pond in Okinawa.
My family was into chess and golf and bridge, and I was not. I was a loner back then as much as I am now. My mother and father tried to coerce me into playing golf and the piano and I did so reluctantly. I don’t remember ever having a voice into my own life or future except through rebellion. I wrote page after page of poetry and journals — all very dark and lost and talking about wanting to die. I promptly threw them away after I wrote them. I could never keep my work… I had no sense of value attached to anything that was produced by my creativity. My parents weren’t the sort of people who were sentimental about things their kids created. We never even had photographs displayed, which is why I never display family photographs. I only just started printing and framing my own photos from the woods a couple of weeks ago. It’s the first time I’ve ever done that to my photographs.
Now my two brothers hardly speak, and Mom is in assisted living with a cold that they can’t seem to get rid of. If she aspirates she’ll die. When Mom dies and the legalities are settled will I ever see my brothers again, I wonder.
My mother-in-law is in a rehab facility. She has no idea it’s Christmas, and barely recognizes people now. She cries and cries for a daughter she lost 60 years ago.
I guess writing this, I have more sadness than I do joy. Phone calls fill me with dread. I need to keep myself strong and healthy enough to keep all of the finances going smoothly. Maybe this work I’m doing to stay out of pain and keep the stress and anxiety down will help me get through the hard times that are awaiting.