Some Things Never Change
My expectations were low, so my disappointment was minimal
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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.
She mostly shares color-by-number app pictures of sunbursts or Bible verses, but she switched up her game a few weeks ago. Some genius had posted a meme about all the things women should do to ensure their men don’t cheat on them. I usually wouldn’t have seen such ridiculousness, but Facebook helpfully pointed out my father’s wife’s reply.
“My husband left all his other for me.”
Seriously?
The writer in me cringed at the typo before I’d fully processed what she’d stated, but then it hit me full force. I spent the next thirty seconds cycling through approximately 3,452 emotions while trying to decide how or if to respond. That one sentence, such as it was, had undone a decade of what I thought was a growing mutual tolerance — maybe even appreciation.
The first issue (after the typo) was the fact that her memory was a bit faulty. My mom caught my dad and the now-wife in an affair and kicked my dad out of our home. I helped…
