Interestingly enough, someone said to me, "I saw you up on the hill."
'The hill' is a euphemism. It's where my family is from. I looked at the person curiously. "No. It wasn't me." I haven't been up there since I did mosquito work for the county and that is more than a year ago. I know where I don't belong, and I stay away. It's a remote road and it's really not an issue. I don't have any reason to be on it.
"Really?" The person wrinkled his brow. "I could have sworn that it was your car."
I answered again, "No. It was not me."
He answered, "Huh," and explained to me that this car looked just like my car.
I answered once again, "No. It was definately not our car."
It's interesting. I know where this has come from. I know what prompted his questioning. I should have asked when 'he' was supposed to have seen me so that I could have told him where I actually was. But when you make a decision not to fight with a family, the truly freeing thing is that you no longer feel as if you have to make excuses or to offer up alibis.
I went back to my business, knowing, once more, after all these years, that my choice was the right one. While there's freedom in it, there's sadness too, but you know, it is what it is and it's still my fault even when I'm no where around.