Hell hath no fury……
Women in a zen pose, in front of her computer.
For absolutely no reason I’m conscious of, I thought of a bit of family lore today.
It was an open secret in my family that my father, a despicable man on many levels, had affairs for a good part of his marriage to my mom. Apparently, one woman was around for longer than my mother could tolerate.
According to legend, my mother followed my father to this person’s house one night. She watched him go in and stayed long enough to see the porch light and house lights go off.
Her anger grew, fueled by humiliation. She revved the engine and banged the car into drive. She’d taken his shit long enough. She was going to smash his car to smithereens.
As the story goes, she didn’t know how long she sat poised to ram his Buick with her station wagon. But at some point, she took a breath and drove home.
That’s not fury. It’s restraint.
Of course, that was probably the night she threw a hot macaroni and cheese casserole at him as he came through the door.
