Tendentious

Lovely visit with my family yesterday. It has been only in the last few years that I realized how much I loved them. In the past, there were always specters that darkened my feelings toward the family in general. *coughcrazysisteralcoholicfathercough* I grew up horribly ashamed of my family and the idea of my family--in spite of my constant affection for my brother and sister. Now, only much later, when I look at how likeable they are, do I start to feel the sort of filial comfort that a lot of fortunate people feel.

Joe also shared a truly horrifying story of the time he visited my nutty Turkish girlfriend in Germany, and she read him her memorized list of my faults--which I knew was true because she had told me that she had numbered them and carried them around with her for reference--and told him, can you please address these with your brother? I am serious. She had assigned ordinal numbers to everything about me that pissed her off. "Sixth. His shoes. I hate them. They won't do." I think the list got into the thirties.

One of the great miracles of my life, for which I never thank God enough, is that I never married that person. It was one of those things where you never realize how gloriously Divine Mercy showered upon you until later.