The last week has been all about getting rid of the bad parts of the past and looking forward to great times in the future. But, in purging myself of the past, a lot of blog-worthy stories came to mind.
I divorced 13 years ago after being with my ex for 13 years, and the phrase 'the truth is stranger than fiction' was invented for that marriage. I can laugh about it now, and even laughed about a lot of it then, but, a lot of those 13 years was a hot mess. Holidays were always 'fun' in our dysfunctional family. We had just moved into our new house on December 1, 1998, and went to spend a few days with my mother in Jackson. My daddy called me there and said, "Ya'll need to come home because somebody ran through your house." Now, I'm thinking 'ran through' must mean 'ransacked', so I asked him what was stolen. Daddy said, "No, literally 'ran through.' A drunk guy missed the curve and his car ran through your house. There's a big hole in your house." We pulled into our driveway 4 hours later to see a huge hole covered with plywood and a huge "Santa Stop Here" sign nailed to it (Thanks to my Daddy). Inside, my aunt, uncle, and daddy had cleaned up all the sheet rock and set my tree and gifts back where they were, but I was still shaking sheet rock out of that tree for years after that. Needless to say, Santa got to bring vinyl siding and 2x4s for Christmas that year.
The very next Christmas, we separated the second week in December (I won't go into the gory details of that, but let's just say "Blue Christmas" became my theme song for the next decade or so). I sat there and looked at those stupid stockings for a few hours, got ticked off that three people were living there and four stockings were hanging there, so I took one off and burned it. Long story short, I had to buy a replacement stocking at the day after Christmas sale.
Determined to break the "Blue Christmas" curse, we decided to decorate the tree as a family the following year. We played Christmas music and I made hot chocolate. All was 'Holly Jolly Christmas' until he put the garland on the tree. As he wound those gold balls around the tree, wouldn't you know that he didn't do it correctly. When I say correctly, y'all women know what I mean, every drape the exact length and width, perfect symmetry from top to bottom. Well, about the sixth time I asked him to redo the garland, he grabbed the tree, opened the front door, and threw the tree onto the yard. Oh, Lawd, the kids came unglued. All I remember is my ex yelling and cussing, me laughing hysterically, the kids crying and screaming, "Santa isn't going to come now because Daddy threw out the tree," and "Silent Night" playing on the radio.
Now, I know you think I'm exaggerating, but the next Christmas we were separated again. I went to the Sheriff's Department Christmas party with my daddy and my ex kept the kids for me. Guess what the band played? Yep, "Blue Christmas." That was it for me. I headed to get the kids in my daddy's truck. Now, I suck at driving in general, but driving an unfamiliar vehicle at night after hearing "Blue Christmas" was ROUGH. I was stopped at a road block within spitting distance of the house where my kids were staying. I tried to put the windows down and hit the lock instead. I tried to put the truck in park and hit the wipers instead. I cut off the lights, you name it. By this time the police had one hand on their guns and were searching my truck bed and ordering me out of the car. I finally got the door open and held up my hands and said, "I promise, I have been at the Sheriff's Christmas party all night. I had one drink 3 hours ago so I am not drunk. This is my daddy's truck and I am an awful driver and that's where I'm going (I gave a head nod in that direction because I was afraid at this point if I moved I'd be shot) and if you will just let me get right there, I promise I will not come out and drive ever again." The officer died out laughing and said, "If we did haul you in after that story, the sheriff would fire us anyway, so get on home."
The last Christmas we were married we had gone to the marriage counselor for the gazillionth time in the past decade. We finished our session and when we got home, my ex said, "Well, I think that went pretty well." I replied, "I want a divorce. We can finish out this holiday and then I'm moving out the first of the year." Then we loaded up and went to my daddy's for our family Christmas. We walked in the house, Daddy takes one look at us and said, "What's wrong with y'all? My ex looked right into his eyes and said, "I just found out your daughter is leaving me next week. Merry f---ing Christmas." After a millisecond of silence, in typical Hopkins fashion, everybody in the room fell out laughing.
You would think that after so many Godawful holidays, I would dread bringing out the decorations, but that wouldn't be my style. Instead, I crank up the radio, make hot chocolate, and load the tree with ornaments I've had for 22 years. If it weren't for the bad, I don't think the good would seem so great, so every year, I remember the hot mess holidays and sing "Blue Christmas" with a twinkle in my eye and a smile on my face.
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