Franki B. Kidd



What would you do?


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I wish change were as cut and dry as alcohol on a pimple.  Apply alcohol.  Pop. Done.  Gone. No change is not that easy.  Especially when it came to my pre-pubescent woolly headed teenager Phoenix, who in his words was “forced” to go on a two-week road trip “, with two bickering soon to be divorced, adults.

 I don’t think he would have minded the road trip from Ohio to California as much if it also wasn’t a, “we might be moving back to California” trip, which would be an unwelcome change in his life.

The scowl worn on his face the entire 3,000 miles was I’m sure of the result of the anxiety he felt thinking about having to move away from his cousins and friends in Ohio.  I also felt the angst of my youngest son since we had only been back in Ohio less than two years, which had been just enough time for him to adjust, get reacquainted with family and meet new friends. 

It also no doubt added to his discontentment that his parents were no longer friendly towards one another and argued unfortunately just about every mile of the trip over things as monumental as we are getting a divorce, to you pulled away from the drive-thru before I could inspect my order.

Question:  What do you do when everything in your life is falling apart?  You hit the highway of course with a man you despise so much that it actually feels like hate (although you were taught as a child not ever to use that word, so you don’t), and a pre-teen who despises you so much, that you overhear him telling someone he hates you.    “I hate you.”

I pointed my finger at him, “Don’t you use the word hate.”

I was a good mom unless I would have told him that I hated him too.  I didn’t hate my son of course, even though I did hate the way he was acting.  I hated the way unruly fro’ had grown on the top of his head.  I hated that each time I looked at his pimpled oily face on the  frroad, he was frowning.


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