Something I said.

Something I said.

“Back in my day, when you sat at the table, you had no easy access to phones, like your generation has. There was no other form of quick communication other than your very mouth. There were also letters, but those took days maybe even weeks to be delivered to its destination.” My father explained after we prayed to God.

When it comes to holidays that my mother has deeply cherished, my father gets really emotional during that holiday. My father finds every holiday that my mother cherishes and explains why she loved it so much, take Christmas for example, that is a holiday that both my mother and father have deemed important because that was the day that Christ was born in Bethlehem. My mother didn't love it for the gifts, but for the God that had died on the cross for everyone's sins. She was very thoughtful when it came to holidays, because she knew that not everyone had the same advantages. Like being wealthy or being the opposite. Even if she thought that they needed help she would cook and it wouldn't benefit in any way other than bring a smile to her face every time she did it. Every time my mother wanted to cook she didn't feel any sense of repetition, she was always happy to cook no matter how long it took or how long it strained her body. At her table, everyone had the chance to eat and there was not a single person to go without eating.

My mother died last year the week before Christmas, and this Christmas was our first one without her. She was such a kind soul and my older sister is making supper this year, she's using a combination of our grandmother's and mother's recipes from past years. My sister has been studying the recipes for months to get enough practice and information. My older brother on the other hand has been setting up the Christmas decorations on the exterior of the house. He had put up the Christmas tree last week. Tomorrow is when we as a family will decorate it.

"Charlotte Jean Anderson, please put your phone away until after supper." My father communicated.

"Fine, but my mother would have never forced me to put my phone away during supper. You are the worst, I wish my mother was still here and you were not." I exploded then and there.

When I realized what I just said I covered my mouth with my hand while avoiding all eye contact with everyone at the table I was seated at.

 "I-" I tried to speak.

My father's eyes were starting to form tears of frustration and sadness.

"You should never speak to me like that. Your mother and I support each other so it doesn't truly matter who is here. You can't blame me for not being like your mother, we are two completely different people who support each other. Your mother isn't here, but that's not my fault. Blame the drunk driver that killed her in the car accident last year." My father said with frustration and sadness in his eyes.

My father pushed his chair back and went upstairs to his room. When he arrived there you could hear the door slam.

I looked at my sister with a "what did I do wrong" look. She looked back at me and shook her head from the left then to the right. I looked at my brother and instantly he turned his head and looked the other way, to avoid eye contact at all cost.

"Are you going to talk to me?" I shouted.

My siblings looked at me, then left the table with their plates. They walked into the kitchen together and started talking about what they're going to put together for supper on Christmas.

I left the table with the thought of seeing a therapist in the coming year. It would be beneficial to everyone in the household, and it will benefit me in more ways than one. I walked up the stairs. When I saw my father's room, I took a pause, took a breath, and then continued to walk to my room. I didn't close the door like I normally do, in hope of someone noticing. In my room, I had planned to write my Christmas list, my new year resolutions, and a sincere apology to my dad. On my new year resolution list, will contain seeing a therapist.

"Charlotte, why did you speak like that to dad like that?" My sister, Sierra asked.

"I don't know, after I said it I didn't even realize that I said it. To be honest he deserved it. I would so much rather my mother being here than him." I explained.

"Charlotte! That's mean, and if you wanted to leave so bad, go, you have a car and a license, all you need now is a sustainable source of income." Sierra added.

I looked at her, looked at my desk, looked back at her, and rolled my eyes. She had no right saying that.

"Sierra, I'll be packing my bags, don't expect to see me after you get home from work." I considered.

"Okay, be careful sis, I love you and I always will, just be careful." Sierra replied.

The words I love you lingered in my head. I have not ever consciously recalled someone saying that to me. People probably have, I just don't remember.

I got a trash bag to organize my clothes by place they're being shipped to. There was a bag for donating, a bag for selling, and a box for keeping. I have a box for the keeping pile because it's easier to transport and store than a trash bag. I pulled out all of the clothes in my wardrobe and stacked them up on my bed. I organized and organized and organized some more. It felt like it took an eternity, but it took all of two and a half hours. I hadn't gotten to loading up my car, or apologizing to my father yet, but I plan to do it soon.