Some Things Never Change
My expectations were low, so my disappointment was minimal
About a decade ago, my husband and I needed to clean out my mom’s old house after she moved into a condo. She is not a hoarder per se, but she is an extreme pack rat, so we’d traipse over there each weekend with our masks and gloves to sort through thirty-odd years of saved items. Once in a while, we’d find something we could scrape the mold off of or sell to someone, and there was the ultra-rare “ooh” moment here or there, but mostly, we were sifting through garbage. That’s my Facebook feed.
More than I bargained for
My father’s current wife is a relatively recent addition to the “friend” list. My parents divorced when I was a teenager, my dad moved in with his now-wife, and my dad’s entire family developed selective amnesia where I was concerned. I wasn’t exactly brokenhearted over their absence, but I was bitter for a long time. Once my daughter was born, I softened a bit. By then, I’d developed a relationship with my half-sister, and I wanted to be at least cordial with whatever family members would have me for my daughter’s sake. I found a bunch of family members on Facebook, and before I knew it, I had several new folks on my friend list, including my dad’s wife.
