MAILBOX: A Scattershot Novel of Racing, Dares and Danger, Occasional Nakedness, and Faith by Nancy Freund, Gobreau Press, 2015, Chapter 4: Don't Track Sand!
Sometimes I wonder if Barley gives up when he's at the kennel and thinks we're never coming back because maybe he gets a secret message that one of us was thinking we didn't want to go back home. Every big decision for a whole family must start with one person thinking or saying one small thing, and maybe dogs can sense that, even if they're not right there with you.
When we visit Grandma in Florida, my mom starts off the week just normal, but a few days into the trip, every single time, she starts saying she wants to stay there or she wishes we could all move back to New York and live in the same building like how she grew up. It's pretty weird, because she raises her voice at Grandma and vice-versa like they're sisters arguing about who got a stain on a skirt they share. As soon as they start, that's when Mom starts also saying she wants to live in that building. You moved my cross-word puzzle! Why did you have to clear up in here? You overcooked the pasta! We should have had take-out! The children are under my feet! Where's the Frisbee! You're wearing that? The table is sticky! Your grapefruit juice squirted everywhere! I've had it up to here with your children's things! Your juice! I don't even like grapefruits! When are you leaving? Go to the beach! Brush your daughter's hair! You forgot the Frisbee! Don't track sand!
They yell at each other about anything and everything. It's the weirdest thing. Maybe they are like sisters instead of mother-daughter because my grandpa died when my mom was just a girl and it was just the two of them in the apartment. But I'm glad Grandma doesn't yell at me that way, and I'm glad my mom doesn't usually yell at me that way. Even if she has the best Frisbee-throwing arm in the world and Chris and I always want to play with her, a grandma should act like a grandma, and a mom should act like a mom, and a daughter should not have to act like the mom, but should get to just be a girl. And when I'm a grown-up daughter, I hope if I overcook the pasta, my mom will be polite and just eat it and not make a big deal.
When they start yelling, Chris and I go in Grandma's bedroom and watch TV. Even though they're kind of yelling, you can tell they're not actually mad. I would much rather be with a person who raises their voice but isn't mad than someone who's really mad but stays quiet. You never know what's going on with a person like that. You only know eventually that person's going to explode.
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Mailbox: A Scattershot Novel of Racing, Dares and Danger, Occasional Nakedness, and Faith. Chapter 1.
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