Mother loved nothing more than a good fight. She would lay in wait for my sister and I, trying to find something to pick at us about. It might be after school and she would wonder why you arrived home at the wrong time, whether it was early or late. Or you might just be sitting down for the evening meal and she would begin clearing her throat.
This meant she was just about to let loose with one of her tirades. I would have a forkful of something she had made, hear the throat clearing and my stomach would just begin to churn. I put my fork down, waiting for the blast to come. Then she would begin with chastising one of us, and if we weren’t already sick from whatever slop was on the table, we became sick then. Our dad would try not to make a big deal about her behavior and would continue to eat. Sometimes he would remind Mother that he had been in court fighting all day and did not wish to come home and fight. Often that would catch her attention. She would begin muttering under her breath and leave the room.
Abby and I then would try to choke down the meal, leave the table and hope that Mother had calmed down or was asleep in her big green chair. Sometimes we got lucky and escaped her wrath. However, she enjoyed a good fight so would never give up. She held grudges and never forgot a perceived slight. Even with her family.
I learned a new technique that almost made her even crazier than she already was. I began practicing what I later learned was meditation. This completely freaked her out because she got no reaction from me. I had to quit practicing meditation after she accused me of being deaf and got so close to my ear and yelled that I think she caused permanent hearing loss.