I combed the cat


 Interlochen  in Arlington, Texas. A really cool neighborhood to travel on Christmas Eve when the radio stations are playing the commercial free Christmas music.



It's about 9 minutes long, so you'll settle in for a while if you watch it. Not quite the same as being there, but good.

So I got a card in the mail today. Not unusual, really, since it is the holiday season, but this card is kind of weird. It wasn't signed. I wouldn't mention it but I'm kinda weirded out. See, I've been getting these cards for a while; ever since I left Texas, actually. And the cards are always postmarked from Texas. I didn't really know anyone in Texas. That was when I was newly home from the military and was in the process of losing my mind. That doesn't really make you likable, you know?

Anywho, I managed to meet a few people. I did work and go to school, after all. And there was a guy in my class that had a thing for me. But he just wasn't right. He was probably half my size, for starters. Kinda bossy, which I don't like at all. I got Dad for that. He wore typical Texas clothing- really tight, highly starched jeans, boots, starched button up shirt, hat, and huge belt buckle. And you know what they say; the bigger the buckle the smaller the package. So I just couldn't be interested. But he tried, I'll give him that. A dozen roses for Valentine's Day which I gave to a friend to give to her husband, and a heart necklace for some other occasion. And he wouldn't take no for an answer, which is a real turn off for me. I do have control issues, after all. And there were other classmates, some co-workers, but no one special. No one that bothered to stay in touch, anyway. So when Dad got the transfer to Florida, I went along.

And then these weird cards started showing up.  The first Christmas in Jacksonville we kind of laughed it off. Spent some time wondering, Mom had some really wild ideas, but we couldn't figure it out. Then I moved to Tampa and got another card there. Same card, too, which is when I started to wonder. Dad said to go to the post office and see if they could trace it, but with no return address that was a lost cause. I did wonder how they got my address. This was early internet days and I always had an unlisted phone number. I got a card every year I lived there. Always the same.

Then I packed up and moved to Indiana. I had three different addresses my first three years here and darned if that card didn't show up at all of them, right on schedule. I did think to ask my sister, who still lives in Texas, and she swore on a stack of Bibles that she hadn't given my address to anyone. She knew I was hiding and promised that she'd never give me away without permission. The darn card even caught up with me the one Christmas I spent in Gainesville, Florida.

So here I am,  16 years later and another card. I'm really at a loss. This address would be easy to find since I bought the house; public records and all that. Just opened it. Maybe I should have taken this one to the cops for fingerprints. They put a note in there with condolences on the loss of my mother.



Pretty much all of this is true except for the card. Did I gitchya? Welcome to weekend fiction!

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