Recovering from Amnesia

Now I know why one of my sisters lives in the Pacific Northwest. That's as far away as you can get from here without falling into the ocean. Now I remember why two years ago on Thanksgiving we ate at a Waffle House beside the interstate somewhere between here and where we wished we could be. Now I remember why for the last few years of my mother-in-law's life we spent Thanksgiving in South Carolina, staying at her cozy home and visiting other relatives and friends in the area. It was always pleasant. Everyone put on their happy face, caught up on each other's life events, talked in high-pitched voices to the young nieces and nephews, traded recipes and jokes, hugged and said let's do it again next year. Mary was the glue that held us together, but Mary is gone. Now I remember what holidays were like before Mary. It has all come crashing down. All the cliches and overused psychospeak apply here. "We put the 'fun' in dysfunctional!" We don't have "Kodak moments"; we have "Prozac moments." There are sitcoms and comedies written about us. We all play our roles: the sharp-tongued matriarch; the reclusive, retiring man of few words; the sensitive, misunderstood daughter; the son who would be fine if someone would just give him a break...again; the one who would be peacemaker if only she had the diplomatic skills of Jimmy Carter; the supportive, loving husband; and the children who have the best roles of all. The plot contains drama, great intentions, verbal judo, hurt feelings and angst. The only thing that's missing is the humor. No one is laughing but the children who are happily uninvolved and unaware. There's not even a canned laugh track. Now I remember why crossing the state line was always preferable to this.