They were under dressed

          
     The last time we received one of these invitations; it was steak dinner by candle light, fancy table cloths and gifts. Everyone showed up. It's another holiday weekend, why wouldn't it be the same? Virtually empty, tables look dirty, "oh, we're just here to socialize. Let's say a prayer". My daughter curls and hisses. She's not eating food that's been prayed over, it'll make her sick; she says. Hardly unexpected and who can blame her? The people are toxic. She has good reason to despise anything done in the name of god. Not wanting to go over the sins committed against her in his name. They all do it without fail.
     I'm shining inside and biscuits with sausage gravy is always a hit with me. I'm making the most of it. The urging for people to share tables went unanswered. One does sit with us. I share something I was excited about. "That's something to talk about when we meet Wednesday". You talk to god with that mouth? Time to go! Let my inner child cry. Lifted up my chin, flipped the script from "I over dressed" to "They under dressed" and feel to rights again. I'm sifting and sorting. Feeling glamorous and dressing to match? yes. Sausage gravy and biscuits? Amen. Shitty conversationalist? No, thanks. A clean, new smelling car come to pick me up? sweet ride. Cab driver that can make good conversation? Hell yes! Got to joke with William? Yeah, he's my friend. A functional home to come back to? Stretch-like-a-cat yes. I feel better and have placed my order for what I want in my tomorrow. Gone is the sorrow.