NoJoMo – 27 Thanksgiving

We were wired when we tried to sleep last night. We talked for a few minutes, but then we each settled into waiting for sleep. I think I waited for a good 10-15 minutes.
We got up around 8 or 9. I realize that we got 4 or 5 hours of sleep, but it sure as hell feels like one or two. I’m actually supposed to be napping right now, but I feel so inspired to write. I always seem to get that sensation when I come here.
Coming to Alabama, returning to the country—to the South—to the roots of my ancestors, fills me with a new vigor… and not necessarily to write about the past… just to write. I’m sitting in this old green chair—which is no longer green, as Melba had it recovered an awful shade of beige—that I can remember from my childhood.
I have pictures of my grandfather holding me as an infant in this chair. This chair—once the ugliest lime green you can imagine—sat, to my grandmother’s (deceased for nearly 14 years) dismay, in her formal living room until her death and the sale and dismantle of the house and its contents. My grandfather kept the chair, and its been an eye sore in Melba’s living room for 13 years. Now, recovered beige, it sits in a bedroom for guests—our bedroom… the bedroom I requested. I love this chair. Not only does it have some of the most amazing memories, including countless Christmases and Bible stories.
It seems Melba has done the entire house in beige. I don’t understand the lack of color. Everything is old fashioned—which I suppose, for old people, is normal.

I have been trying to take plenty of pictures with my new camera. I have also been trying to not take so many that I annoy the crap out of my family. I think I succeeded today. We shall see about tomorrow. I can’t wait to edit the pictures and see if any turned out worth posting. I”ll probably post a bunch even if they all look like crap!

I think I did pretty well today. By that, I mean that, considering this is the first time I’ve seen my father since he stopped speaking to me after I refused to come to his wedding, and there were no screaming fits, no flying objects, no snide remarks (from my sister, sure, but that’s normal), and no bickering… I’d call it a victory. The thing is… by reconnecting with my father I have this enormous sense of disloyalty to my mother. I feel as if I’m personally plunging the knife into her back, twisting it a few times, pushing her to the ground, kicking her a couple of times, and pouring salt in her wounds. How can I try to re-forge a relationship with a man who so broke my mother that for months I spent wondering if she’d live through it (literally) and for years I spent wondering if she’d ever recover? How can I reconnect without betraying her, despite her insistence that I should have a relationship with him? She’s my mother… isn’t she just supposed to say that?
It’s all so confusing and convoluted. I hope I can get through this mess of a holiday without incident. Sorting out the emotional wreckage can wait until I get home… or never—never works for me, too.

Pictures::

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