holiday truths, (think but don't say)

Thanksgiving at my grandmother's. Rich, single uncle with not just one but two condos downtown. Looks and sounds a lot the way I remember my grandfather. Truck driver uncle with dog named Harley, and a bike with the same name, and an American flag tattoo. X-doing ex-convict cousin who still talks like he is in jail. Mother mother, who argues to argues but makes a mean pumpkin pie, why don't mine ever turn out quite as good? String bean jean sister, boy-crazy and 5'8" at 12. Mashing potatoes with grandma.

Christmas is coming up soon, she says, you kids should save your money, don't spend it, because soon Obama is going to start taking it all away.

Okay, Grams, I don't think that's quite how it works, but okay.

Sometimes I forget that you're quite conservative and slightly racist, if I didn't love you so much I probably wouldn't like you. I don't really tend to agree with anything that comes out of your mouth, but I still think you're class. Family is like that a lot.

I thought about Kyle. No one mentions you, though. We can't talk about you. I miss you. I hope jail doesn't make you more bitter than you were before.