Hurtin' Ball of Love

When daddy came home from Bobby’s Pool Hall, he was so drunk he walked through the screen door scaring Dog the cat and sending him flyin’ onto the Dixie stove where Mama shielded Dog with her ladle causin’ him to land into a bowl of Cheez-Its.

Daddy was in a good mood from all the boilermakers he’d been drinkin’ and wanted her to dance with him to some Chesney and Old Dominion song he had in his head about talking to Jesus all night and having some kind of honky tonk attitude.

As much as he tried to twirl Mama away from her beans, Mama wanted nothing to do with him saying, “baby this, and “baby that” and some nonsense ‘bout “rose-colored neon lens.” Mama wanted no more of Daddy’s slobberin’ and spinnin’ and she weren’t gonna have none of it. Not tonight — the anniversary of baby Morgan’s crib death after only being home three days from Mercy Hospital.

Mama weren’t gonna have any of it until Daddy started sobbin’ on her shoulder like a big baby needing some lovin’ Weren’t long after that Mama started bawling along with him — the two of them wrapping themselves in a big ball of hurtin’ love that were so heavy they collapsed under the weight of it all.

Originally Published on Medium