Life supposed to be a journey in which we never stop learning, creating, sharing, exploring, etc.
A first cousin a few years older than me found me on Facebook. I’ve never met her or ever heard anything about her. She shares sappy stories about how she identifies with people searching for their fathers (she has always known and lived with her mother).
I don’t have the time or the energy and I have learned that biting my tongue, a lot, a whole lot does seem to be the best policy in most situations (regardless of how honest people claim they want you to be).
I want to tell her about her stanky father (my paternal-uncle) (now dead). I really do. But, I don’t. I’m too old and too tired and too busy looking in another direction to stand in that spot again. That spot occupied by a demonized woman who will be blamed for everything, just for expressing her reality.
No thank you.