My family is great at carpet stuffing. It beats confrontation, right? Mad at someone? Shove that anger under the carpet. Did one of the siblings say something hurtful? Swoosh the hurt under the carpet. Siblings lie about you? Zap that sense of betrayal under the carpet.
I’ve decided that over the years, my personal carpet is in dire need of a cleaning. It’s like the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. I realize I have no more room to stuff one more painful breech of right and wrong under the carpet without it claming what’s left of my sanity. I told a friend today that having shitty siblings was my price to pay for having fabulous parents – a karmic yin and yang.
So I’ve gotten out the vacuum cleaner and picked up the carpet. Lordy be, what a mess. The floor will soon be completely clean and I don’t ever have to allow it to get dirty again. It’s exhilarating. No more pretending that all is well, no more staying quiet to keep the peace. This will make holidays a lot easier, I think.
I have a similar type scene in my new manuscript, and it’s odd that I didn’t make the connection back when I wrote it. Guess Kim’s evolution is faster than mine. Then again, she’s got a thing for blood. As of now, so do
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