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By ShellyTX (Shelly Mayberry)
You know the nice brick house on the corner, the one with all the Christmas decorations that someone worked so hard on. Just by looking at it you can imagine a grandmother baking away for Christmas and carefully wrapping gifts for her kids and grandkids that she chose with such care.
The picture is so clear I can smell gingerbread just looking at it. It’s surely a place any kid would dream about.
It’s only by looking closer that you can smell a little whiskey on her breathe; that is the first sign that things are not what they seem. The story is her first husband, who was a respected local policeman, was abusive but no one helped her because of the code of honor, and he nearly killed her before anyone did anything.
I would expect a woman who had been through all of that to gather herself up and become a model mother to her 2 boys who are now 23 and 24. It’s the presence of the whiskey that will tell you the story.
If you look deep enough you see the damage of what alcohol and abuse can do to the soul.
The older boy, a husband and father himself, is said to be just like his dad, abusive and controlling. He now uses the power of his daughter over his mother so he can get what he wants from her. He threatens her with never seeing her grandchild again. I think that might be best if he could heal his own wounds.
The younger son who seems so sweet as to be a gentle giant so to speak, is divorced and was living at home until the mother got drunk and abusive herself one night, and he ran from the house having had all he could take.
Now he lives in his own house, which is a far cry from the wonderfully decorated brick home of his mother. He can hardly afford to pay the rent and has not a stick of furniture. He sleeps on the floor in a sleeping bag given to him by a friend.
I drive by and you can see in the whole place is a Christmas wonderland, and I wonder who she does this for ….does it help to hide the whiskey or the damage done by it.
I guess that I may never know just as no one would ever guess she does not bake cookies in that wonderland she built for herself and her whiskey bottle.
I may never know what happens to her and her family, but I know for a while one boy will sleep warm for awhile, and it is tonight that I thank God I have the Lord above to pray to for the one who sleeps on the floor………..
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