I don't know where this goes or anything.
LOSING THE BEST THING EVER
Sometimes I hate them. All of them, except Dawn, of course.
I hate having to feel so much gratitude all the time. That isn't anything to do with them - it's my problem.
I was brought up to say please and thank you and to feel thanks in my heart. Every single meal I cooked back home on the farm, every chore I did that would otherwise have been left until things rotted or fell apart was done out of gratitude. Gratitude for being left alone.
There is a phrase people use 'thankful for small mercies' but people don't know what it means. Small mercies are your father not tearing up your schoolbooks if he finds something in them he thinks is against the Scripture; small mercies are your brother not telling if he catches you looking sidewise at a girl in church; small mercies are your cousin Beth not telling the other girls at school about the whippings father gives you once a week on the general principle that you must have done something.
Every day I got by without a beating, every day I was allowed to go to school, the fact that when I got full scholarship to a college across the country that father had never heard of he let me take it - these things were small mercies. And I was thankful and bowed my head and did my chores and said as little as possible.
No-one ever listened to a word I said, anyway.
I'm just not used to being grateful for real things - to people who hardly know me except as this strange quiet woman who has suddenly turned their friend strange too, yet stand up to my father and my brother as if they had known and despised them all their lives. How do you cope with a thing like that - with people just saying that they are your family now.
Even if eventually they turn out not to mean it.
They looked after me when my mind was in that place; they helped her spoon food into my mouth and took me with them when they ran from dange.