Crashing the Party without Me

I remember you crashing the party without me.

How absurd to have a party for only the adults, the children are not invited, when the children are twenty to thirty. It's for their father. This prejudice is locked away in brains raised that way. Careful seating to keep Society balanced. No intellectual curiosity, no leaving the generational presence. I thought we had rebelled, sick of the veneer.

Irritated, drunken welcomes for the interlopers, slurring words, wobbling hugs, breath in their face. Would they remember, "I just love you!" because they would mainly love in stupor?

Then I felt left out with doubt and anguish of do they love me. Now I would stride home and close the front door and head out the back to garden in the cold rain, my fresh breath in puffs.