crazywonderful

Men in their ‘good’ cowboy boots (or socks and sport sandals) and permanently affixed cowboy hats (or white caps with red flames embroidered on them).
A moment where the dearly beloved hold their breath because they are worried the brother-in-law isn’t going to be able to reach the box of sand without falling in the hole with the urn.
Cousins who greet us collectively with “Hey, sweeties,” and my brother alone with, “Hey, Sexy.”
Up and down glances that last a little longer than I’m comfortable with.
A generous portion of ex-wives.
Relatives who demand to know why I haven’t called them or come and hung out with them when they would never, in a million years, call me or come to my house, and then accuse me of “playing loner.”
My father calling my name, thanking me in a choked voice for coming, and then breaking down and telling me in a loud rush that he is so fucked up right now, eventually leading me to understand that the daughter of his “good friend” (read: someone he’s possibly met once at the bar, and can dimly remember) went downstairs the day before and found her mother hanging in the basement.
Flashbulb moments guaranteed to keep repeating: The stiff rhythm of my grandfather’s gait, my mother grabbing my hand with the sunglasses held in it, rubbing remainders of throwing-sand off my fingers against the soft green folds of my dress, looking up from my father’s crying face to realize a scene is being made, and I am in the middle of it.
Ken and I sitting afterwards in a hard plastic booth at the McDonald’s, laughing helplessly because there is nothing else for it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Questioning/Examining:
If you sit in the woods and drink, occasionally shooting at animals with powerful weapons, that makes you a nature lover?
Grateful/Relieved:
For unexpected stores of compassion, which have now obviously been spent.
Regret/Deny:
Not noticing just a little bit sooner Ken’s warning signal to get moving.
Musing/Reflecting:
I can hear the flatline noise my brainwaves are making.
Whistling/Humming:
Ignition (Remix) – R. Kelly (I can’t. Make it. Stop.)
Reading/Scanning:
The reactions of everyone around me.
Shout out to:
My buffer and wingman, and the only one who truly appreciates the dark hilarity of it all, Kenneth Railey.