Yesterday

I got another email from Aunt Ruth last week. I intended to answer it immediately but I couldn’t figure out what to say. So I gave it some time and as usual my intention faded. Now six days have passed – I’m sure she’s angry and it won’t matter what I say – so why bother? It’s not like I have nothing else to do.

She’s not really my aunt anyway. She’s been in my life all my life, but Ruth isn’t blood. She’s my aunt because she married my mother’s brother. But she and Uncle David were close to my parents till after Dad died, and I try to be respectful. She’s such a pest…

No matter what I say or write, Aunt Ruth won’t be satisfied. She’ll think she knows how to fix whatever, and she’ll fill me with “shouldas.” I think I’ve had enough of those.

My name is Barbara and I’m finally in charge. I’ve earned it.

I was the last born of my parents’ 4 kids, and the only girl. I’ll admit I enjoyed the early attention; for all of my childhood I was the family treasure. I was my parents’ princess, the sister my brothers all protected, the angel with the strawberry blonde curls and the pretty clothes and the smarts they all bragged about. Until I was 25 I don’t think they had any complaints about me. And since then: although I’ve seen some iffy looks sometimes, I think the criticisms I’ve heard have come from Aunt Ruth and Uncle David. Even my ex is less judgmental about me than they were and Ruth still is.

Wow. 25. I was 25 almost 30 years ago. The most surprising thing I’ve learned about life is how fast it goes.

Even then the complaints were totally unfair. After all, I picked Craig because of how well he’d fit with my family. If it weren’t for my parents and my brothers too, I would have gone away to college, met someone who rang my bells, had a separate life. But I was doing what they all wanted. I was staying close to home. Daughtering. Marrying to please them all. Then they decide they don’t like Craig and they start blaming me.

Too late. I was pregnant then with Freddy and Bobby was almost 3. I didn’t have a diploma or a job and my folks sure couldn’t support us. Shit: Mom never worked and Dad’s foundry job wasn’t exactly lucrative. Wayne worked at a gas station, Bruce was on the way to leaving us, and Matt had already dedicated his life to his drugs. Craig was my only option and I hung onto him till he couldn’t hold onto a job. When he took the last position, that construction gig in Arizona, it looked for awhile like we might make it. Enough money came in and he was away so much we started to get along again. But then he lost that and moved back in here … and well, looking back now, I see it was just a matter of time. The man drove me nuts with his cockamamie schemes and his slowness.

So for the last 25 years I’ve had no one but me. I’ve been taking care of my sons and my parents and sometimes even my brothers. Wayne and Matt anyway – Bruce became the property of Nancy as soon as they married. He never comes around. I’m in charge of this domain.

Now I’m tired. I figured I’d learn stuff once I started actually writing this journal, but I had no idea it would happen so fast. A page ago all I felt was anger, and now that’s been overrun with weariness. Mom’s asleep. Bobby’s asleep. Freddy is God knows where. I can continue this tomorrow.

Today

Wayne came by today and tried to take Mom out for a drive, but she was having none of it. She only wants to be here, in her chair all day and the bed all night, whining at me for what she thinks she needs. I know that sounds disloyal but the older we both get, the more I realize how long it’s been since I actually loved her.

Better not let Wayne read this. Fuckin’ Mama’s boy. Nearly eligible for Medicare now, and he still won’t challenge her. I’m a fine one to talk (write); I don’t either.

I guess he never had a chance. Mom was always demanding and overprotective and Dad, sweet Dad, worked so much he was only around nights and weekends. Besides, back then the men all trusted the moms to know what they were doing. Like girls are born mother-wise or something. Really: the only thing Dad did wrong was let Mom run the show at home.