from an ending comes a new beginning

24 Jan

there comes a time

The news that my aunt had moved back and was staying with my mom this time got me thinking.  I can’t help but feel apprehensive about the idea.  I keep remembering all the things that occurred when she was here before.  I had the same intentions to help her get back on her feet that my mom does now.   I can only hope that since they’ve been friends for so many years, that they will be able to cohabitate without any major issues.  The last thing I want to see happen is see my mom’s lifelong friendship with my aunt ruined because of stubbornness and pride like my relationship with her was.  I can’t help but wonder if she still feels like being right is as important as it was a year ago.   I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the past few weeks.  I had several Soul Post drafts ready to be edited and published that I’ve since deleted.  Why? Because they were a recollection of past events that really are insignificant now.  So how does the story end?  Basically, the final straw came after another incident in my life caused by what my uncle Jerry calls “the devil,” also known as Facebook.  🙂

My husband and I had spent our day off moving my aunt’s things from a storage unit she considered too expensive a payment per month to a storage shed she had moved into our yard that she purchased on a monthly payment plan.  We made about 3 trips loading and unloading my dad’s truck and her watching.  She never offered to help.  She just rifled through the boxes as we were trying to put them in the shed. After our last trip to the storage unit; tired and irritated, I enlisted the help of our neighbors across the street to help us with the last load.  With their help, we made fast work of it. I took a break on the patio and from my vantage point could see my aunt picking through clothes with the exaggerated mannerisms of a full on tantrum.  Looking up again, I saw her coming my direction asking, “Did you see what they did?  They just threw my clothes on the ground!”  Shaking my head I said, “No they didn’t.  I saw what happened.  The box came apart as they tried to lift it up and all the clothes started coming out of it.  They piled the clothes on the box and dragged it back here.  They made sure nothing got dirty.”  With that, she stomped away muttering something about how people need to be more careful.  I sat there silently counting to 10 and fighting the urge to tell her just where she could put her precious clothes.  Instead,  I got up and went out front to see if there was anything left.  Finished, we pulled my dad’s truck into his driveway, thanked the neighbors, and made our way inside.  I looked through the patio doors to see my aunt still out in the backyard picking through boxes and no further progress had been made on them making their way into the shed.  After a few moments of considering my options, I went and took a shower and a well deserved nap.  As I laid down next to my already sleeping husband on our bed, I felt justified in my decision.

Later that evening, my aunt and oldest daughter had an altercation.  My husband and I were outside in the garage when we heard my aunt’s shrill, irritated voice yell, “F**k you, __________!!”  Looking at each other in disbelief, we both stood up from our chairs and I asked, “Did she just say f**k you to our daughter??”  “That’s what I heard too,” my husband answered.  I went inside and demanded to know what was going on.  The answer to that question is what ended my relationship with my aunt and why we don’t speak to this day.

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