Memory

This might sound petty, but I woke up with this seemingly insignificant memory.  I hope you don’t mind if I share it with you.

One Friday afternoon I went over to a friend’s house to play.  Her family was much better off financially than mine was.  Though they never said these actual words, my respective parental figures despised them.  This particular afternoon my friend’s mother came home from work early, and brought home some super yummy stuff for dinner.  Salad with all kinds of yummy and healthy toppings!  She asked me if I could stay for dinner, so I called home and asked them if I could.  They were so petty and rude to me on the phone.  I knew that meant when I got home, I was gonna get it.  I asked them what we were gonna have for dinner and they said something like this – Oh I don’t know, probably just some reheated yellow death or something.  (yellow death was our verbiage for Mac n’ cheese.)

Then they went on to tell me how they were grateful for having it, and how ungrateful I was for thinking that people liked me, or wanted me around.  They said that, if anything, they felt sorry for me.  They saw how fat I was and got me salad so I would not eat all of the food at our house, so that someone else might get something to fill their tummies as well.  Then they told me that I had to stay there and eat the salad and hung up the phone.

I was crying when I got off the phone.  But, I didn’t want to have to say why, because I knew that would cause more problems… so I slid my wrist hard against a sharp corner, and scratched it a bit.  Then blamed that for my tears.

The dinner was fantastic!  My friend and her mom were kind, and could speak freely…wo, it was awesome!

Let me take a break in this story for a sec and tell you this.  I loved pizza.  Pizza was my favorite food of all time!  Pineapple and green olives (i know it’s weird) was my absolute most cherished and treasured choice! “They” were very aware of this fact.

When I got home, there were no dishes in the sink. (very rare, since I was the one who usually had to clean up the kitchen etc)  There was a pile of napkins from a pizza store on the table, and one in the middle of the floor right in front of the outside door.  I bent down to pick it up, on it was a bit of sauce, a small piece of pineapple, and two finely cut green olive pieces.  For them to spend money out of the goodness of their heart was rare.  I was broken hearted over this.  I feel so dumb for still being sad about it.

I went outside to toss all the napkins and there were no pizza boxes.  I searched the whole house, yard, and vehicles.

No boxes.  In my head, that meant that they went out of their way, to acquire the napkins and put the stuff they KNEW I loved on it, and left it right where i would find it.  The rest of the night they were grinning at me from ear to ear teasing me and passive aggressively shoving it in my face that I didn’t ‘get to eat their special dinner.’

They did it to teach me a lesson of some sort.

I did learn something – it wasn’t that they are good and I am bad like they wanted.

I learned that some people will push you down simply because they can.  There is no age limit.  This is not limited by race, sex or creed.  There are people who profess to love you who will cut you every chance they get.  I did and still do feel sad about this but their actions, right or wrong, do not make ME bad.

So I gotta pray for them and not because someone said to either!  I know with the passion that they used against me, if they were for God, that same passion could be turned into a fine tool of goodness.  So, I will hope and pray for that.  It does not make this memory any less valid by not taking on some act of revenge, at least not to me.  It is distressing and one of the ‘lighter’ ones I must say.

Some say that we cannot know the sweet without tasting the sour.  Some say that everything we do is a choice.  I am not quite sure where my opinion lies on both of them but while I can I will choose, for them, to pray.

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