It’s funny. I can remember being in elementary, and getting the same assignment every year. Describe in a paragraph (or a few paragraphs) what it is that you are thankful for. It was an easy assignment. It was fun, and didn’t exactly require a lot of thought. But as your Auntie gets older, Minions, it’s a question I take a bit more seriously every year. What am I thankful for?

Before I share this year’s answer with you, I want to tell you a story. No, no – put those cocoa mugs down. It’s not a happy story. It’s not a place that you will be comfortable in. You won’t want to spend a lot of time there. I don’t. But I feel the need to get this out, and so I turn to you, my Minions, some of the few people in the world who truly understand me, so that I can get it all out and be done with it and never look back. Are you ready? It’s okay. I’ll hold your hand the whole time. And when we’re done, I’ll tuck you all into your lil coffin beds and give you all lil skull cookies, and after a while, you might not recall our journey at all.

Here we go.

Yesterday began as a really great day. Uncle Paul was off at his college, taking classes. My son, Jacob, and my daughter, Alexandria, were being goofy and awesome. And so I decided it would be the perfect day to do some charity work. Off to Target we went to shop for Toys for Tots! I’d seen the T4T bin at my favorite Starbucks last week, and was really looking forward to filling it. See, your Auntie was very poor growing up, so T4T means a lot to me, and to so many children. It’s important, the hope that each gift represents. So we shopped and shopped and shopped and before we knew it, we had two entire carts overflowing with toys!

Mind you, I’d driven the Camaro to Target. And while my car has an enormous trunk, I hadn’t counted on filling it and then some. So after that, instead of hitting more stores for more gifts, the kids and I decided to swing by my favorite Starbucks, and drop the toys off.

Now…here’s where the situation gets sticky. It’s where you learn that your Auntie Heather did something wrong, and where someone else did something (in my mind, anyway – maybe not) more wrong. In fact, I don’t even like reliving the scenario. But I have to, you see, because it bothers me. To my core, it bothers me.

A quarter of the parking lot had been roped off, so I drove around and around, looking for an empty spot, but there weren’t any. In front of the Starbucks is a curb marked No Parking, but I’d seen several people in years past park their car, go inside for twenty minutes, and come back without any trouble. So…I stopped there, and put my hazards on. Should I have parked there, albeit briefly? No. That was wrong of me. Granted, I just wanted to semi-easily get the ridiculous amount of gifts to the T4T bin. But that’s really no excuse. Just because other people break a rule and get away with it, that doesn’t mean it’s okay to break it yourself.

I began opening my drivers’ side door – it was open maybe four inches – when I heard a man SCREAMING, “SIR! SIR! YOU CAN’T PARK THERE!” I had no idea who he was, and I wasn’t a sir, so I ignored him. Then I heard footsteps, and glanced to see a security guard sprinting to my car from four lanes over. He was tall, bulky, and glaring so hard that his eyes might have been made of lava at that moment, or maybe shooting lasers (this is the way he appears in my memory, anyway). He runs up to me, big and scary and broad, and huffs in a voice that makes me feel like I look just like a person who once kicked his puppy when he was five, “What part of YOU CAN’T PARK HERE do you NOT understand?”

This is where Auntie Heather takes a breath. In that moment, where I take a breath, I recognize that the holidays are a very unhappy time for people, that virtually no one respects these guards, and that he’s probably having a really bad day, and maybe feels just a little stupid for having referred to me as “sir” (which also begs the question…can only boys own Camaros? Why did he assume I was a sir? I mean, he called me that before he could even see me…my windows are tinted. Huh…). After I release my breath, and open my trunk to get the toys out, I calmly, say, “I’m sorry, sir. There was no parking and I just wanted to get these to Toys for Tots.”

But as I’m saying the words “Toys for Tots”, he SCREAMS at me, “YOU CANNOT PARK HERE!” He then puffs up his already large frame, and gets unnervingly close to me, kinda lording over me in the way that people do when they’re trying to physically intimidate someone – especially someone smaller than them (much smaller, in fact). I say, “Okay, I’m going.” because I want to remove myself from the situation. That’s very important, Minions. If someone is on the verge of getting physical with you (and I do believe if I had been a “sir”, he would have put his hands on me – you could feel it in the air, like an electric charge), GET AWAY FROM THEM.

At this point, Jacob has already taken half the bags into Starbucks. I sit the rest on the sidewalk there, go to close my trunk, and he moves in, shouting, “NOW, or I’ll put a sticker on your car!”

In my mind, I’m thinking, “A sticker? Really? Like a tow sticker that I will simply remove after returning home? Wow. You have immense power, sir. Good for you.” but I say nothing. I simply move past him and head for my drivers’ side door. He follows me – too closely and huffing and puffing angry air out of his nose – and as I open my door, he reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a sticker. I get in my car, so angry I can barely see straight, and do up my seat belt, turn off my hazards, and pull away slowly.

The bags, full of new toys, are on the sidewalk. Alone. So I drive slllloooowllly back and forth, waiting for Jacob to come get them. He does, and we leave. But not before I blew a kiss at the security guard. I should have wished him a happy Thanksgiving. He probably needed to hear it.

But the point is, Minions, I am 38 years old, and I was bullied by a complete stranger yesterday. There was no reason to treat me that way. Yes, I shouldn’t have parked there. But he didn’t even ask if my car was having troubles, or if there was a medical emergency of some kind. He simply shouted and huffed and invaded my personal space. All because…what? I drive a nice car? I have weird hair? I…shower…?

I was furious the whole way home, because all I could think about was the fact that I am 38, and someone bullied me…and you Minions are (for the most part) younger, much younger. If someone can bully me…what are they doing to you? And it made me mad. And it made me upset. And it broke my heart, because all I want to do is to protect you from that kind of nonsense.

Then I went home and cried. Like that deep, soul-wrenching kinda cry. Because it bothered me so badly. It put me back in elementary, back in middle school, back in high school, back in a certain romantic relationship I had with a bully. And it hurt me to my core.

Yes, I did the wrong thing by parking there. But I did the right thing by walking away.

And as I sobbed and vented at home, Jacob and Alex both uttered protective words and hugged me, and I knew then what I was thankful for this year.

I’m thankful for my family. And I’m thankful for my Minions. Because we all seem to be the only people who know right from wrong, who know that making someone cry because you’re unhappy is an awful thing to do. So thank you, Minions. For being you. You’re always in my thoughts. Always.

Happy Turkey Day, Minion Horde. What are you thankful for?

Tags: bullying, Thanksgiving

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