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From that day on, our family home had become a house of cards. Our foundation was no more solid than a floor of Jack's, Queens and Aces. Our family was based on a falsehood, and thus everything that went on in our home was a sham.
We were in a web of lies. And in the center of that magnificent web, was a spider. A spider I loved with all of my heart; a black widow whom I treasured.
She had spun a silken masterpiece, a symmetrical tour de force, with threads that were nearly transparent, save for their sliminess, which glistened in the morning sun. Which gland had my grandmother used this time? Was she merely spinning thread to make a safety line, or was she making sticky silk for trapping prey? Or today might she be producing the finest of her threads to completely wrap and envelop the fly?
I'm still trying to understand the web that she wove over time. She created netting so complicated and coarse, that she was ultimately trapped in her own trap, and she became her own prey. She was strangled by the complex maze of threads that she herself had created. She had become the fly.
The Truth was the real Super Hero in this story. At first, the truth only barely seeped out; it was a trickle, if that. But soon thereafter the trickle became a flow, and that flow grew in strength and magnitude, and it became a river, which overtook the banks of our reality. The truth has a way of doing that. You can suppress it for a time, but it has a strange way of wriggling out; it is a little like a Houdini. This truth was eventually set free, and one by one we learned the facts about who he really was.
I was taught to lie and keep secrets. Would I learn to live like the spider, or would I try and become my authentic self, despite if society agreed with my choices? I knew one thing for certain. I was going to live life to the fullest and experience everything there was to experience. I would say yes to life. I wanted to go fishing for all of the color that this world has to offer.
