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on again.
"The glass is always half empty with you." Dad wasn't really cross with Momma, but it didn't sound like he was happy with her bein' unhappy all the time.

"Well, it's not like there even is a glass lately." I knew the two of them loved each other and that they were just discussin' things the way they always did, playful like, but Momma sometimes jabbed Dad when she was drinkin' and that wasn't so much fun to watch.

Momma sometimes gets in these deep funks, and when she drinks they dip deeper than normal, and it's like everything is black and cold in front of her and all around her. It made it so Dad couldn't ever be down on account of him havin' to always keep her up for fear of her maybe fallin' down too hard. And especially right now, with his best friend dead so suddenly, it seemed like Dad needed someone to be up for him more than ever.

I went to my room, like always when they got heated up in the kitchen. Eventually, like always, Momma would break a glass, cry real loud and collapse into Dad's arms and then they'd go into their room and wrestle until Dad fell asleep and started snoring real loud.



comments[1]  |   7/25/2005  |  perma-link/trackback

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