Her Own Private Island, to which she was banned
So, my husband and I attended weddings in the Midwest. Joy and exuberance marked our visit of 4000 air miles and 1200 miles of driving in a rental car. We filled the time between the events with visits with extended family and longtime friends. It was our best back-to-our roots visit in a dozen years. Weddings foster happiness and bury hatchets, if only for a few hours.
Perhaps it was the cake, perhaps it was the booze. Whatever the cause-effect, everyone relaxed into the good vibe.
Except for the Queen Bee and Posse – read on!
I’ve always proclaimed that I never seek revenge. What’s the point? God and/or Karma are much better at exacting recompense. As a vital corollary, I’ve also said, “If you’re lucky, God/Karma will let you watch.”
I got to watch at the first wedding and I chuckled to myself, rather than applaud: the tangle of perps were seated at a table of eight, seemingly centered in the middle of the throng. But… there was no spotlight. No glory, no beseeching that the queen bee and posse were accustomed to. They were not the center of attention, they were not in control. On their own private island, they were shunned and ignored to twiddle their thumbs while the rest of us partied all around.
It was if they were enduring a belated time-out punishment, enforced by the family patriarch. A punishment that I did not imagine or request.
I apologize for this semi-gloat. The deed wasn’t done by my hand. All is well.
My witness gave me ‘new juice.’ I was safe, with my husband and crew. I received no lectures, derision, or scorn. I beamed, enjoyed, and locked my secret of happiness deep in my heart. Every cell in my body fully relaxed – for the first time in forty years.