and my grandmother is Lucy Van Pelt. She's down at the other end of the field, making a good show about how this time she's not going to move the football. This time, when I get down there, it's going to be right where it is now & I'll be able to kick it, and our team will cheer because we've finally won.
And somehow... every single time, a part of me believes her.
A part of me thinks: "She can't possibly do this to me again! I mean, eventually, she's going to have to let me kick the stupid thing. She promised... and I know she's promised before, but this time she actually means it."
Of course, there's also a whole 'nother part of my brain saying "You idiot... Of course she's going to move the ball! You're going to get down there, prepared to kick, all amped up, your leg is gonna swing out, hit nothing but air, and keep going forward until you fly into the air and land on your ass.
Stop listening to her.
Her word, her promises mean nothing!"
So, yet again, I listened to the wrong voice: let myself believe that this time she was actually going to do the right thing: that she was going to stand up for herself, and her daughters, and me.
And, yet again, she caved. She gave in.
She picked the football up just as my foot swung out, full of momentum and as powerful as I could make it.
And, yet again, I landed on my big fat ass.
And, as usual, not so much as an apology.
Nana's more into the "denial" aspect of things... "Let's all pretend that I didn't just screw you all over again!"
I'm sorry if I can't be all happy and cheerful this time.
I'm sorry if I can't let you prattle on and on about how different next time will be.
The fact that you have the gall to look hurt when I tell you I don't believe you is just part of your Lucy-spiel. "Of course I am telling the truth!" You coax. All offended that I would even suggest such a thing. "All those other times, it wasn't my fault. I was holding the football and there was wind... or mud... or another player who came along and kicked it before you got there. I always keep my promises. And, next time, you'll see."
Well, maybe next time, you will.
But I won't be the one kicking.
I need to sit on the sidelines for a while.
I have to take myself out of your game.
"You promise me this; you promise me that
You promise me anything under the sun,
then you give me a kiss and
you're grabbing your hat,
and you're off to
the races again.
When I think of the time gone by...
When I think of the way I try...
I could honestly die."
Sue Me, Guys & Dolls.