Anyone who knows me knows that if someone hangs around a lot, I’ll start to notice things. Once I do, I pay attention to things from favorite colors to food allergies. I’m good at forgetting birthdays, but remembering favorite authors. If someone is coming for dinner and I know they hate brocolli or drink only a particular brand of soda, I’ll make sure to take account of that. That, to me, seems to be only basic courtesy. Those are things I will do for people I barely know, let alone people I love.
One of my fledglings, currently living with me, is allergic to cinnamon. It’s not just uncomfortable for her; it is life threatening. This time of year she can’t go into a lot of stores because most of the seasonal scents are cinnamon based and the smell is enough to trigger an asthma attack. She is also allergic to sweet potatoes and a couple of other things. I’ve been “Mama” to her for a couple of years. She’s been staying here since mid-September. So nothing I made for Thanksgiving had cinnamon in it. I used ginger and vanilla powder in the apple crisp, and did not serve sweet potatoes at all. It was very simple.
Yesterday she went to Thanksgiving dinner with what she refers to as her birth family. Evidently it wasn’t that simple for them. Nearly every thing on the table had cinnamon in it, including the turkey. Her mother served sweet potatoes, but no white potatoes. The vegetables were dressed with mustard, which is another of the kid’s allergies. The dishes her father made were equally impossible for her to eat. And her mother thought it was a valid excuse that she only put cinnamon on “half the turkey.” “Surely it isn’t really that bad” was the response, when the child objected. Her folks have been guilt tripping her for not spending time with them, and then pull something like this. I can’t imagine what they’re thinking. I don’t know if they’re trying to drive her away, avenge some imagined slight, kill her or drive her to homicide, or if they’re simply criminally clueless. I do know her response. It was to call here as soon as she escaped, to thank me for “adopting an orphan who happens to have parents”. I was in tears when we got off the phone, and I’m not sure if it’s because I was so much touched by the call, or because I’m so angry at her birth parents. They don’t deserve her. I think it’s just as well I don’t have their phone number, so I can’t tell them directly what I think.