I just couldn’t. These kind of things kept me calm the night of my birthday.
The next morning Christmas started out nice. Dad liked his copy of M*A*S*H a lot, which made me so happy,
especially when he told his own story about that night we watched it.
He left out the part about him crying, but he winked at me, so I knew he remembered.
Even the two-hour drive to Ohio was actually okay for the first half hour, even though I had to sit on the hump in the backseat,
because my dad kept asking questions about college, and my brother kept talking.
He is dating one of those cheerleader girls who does flips during college football games. Her name is Kelly.
My dad was very interested in that. My sister made some remark about how cheerleading is stupid and sexist, and my brother told her to shut up.
Kelly was majoring in philosophy. I asked my brother if Kelly was unconventionally beautiful.
“No, she’s hot beautiful.” And my sister started talking about how the way a woman looks is not the most important thing.
I agreed, but then my brother started saying how my sister was just a “bitchy dyke.”
Then, my mom told my brother to not use such language in front of me,
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