Exactly one year ago today, your mom loved me.

She exclaimed over how cute I was, how helpful I was and how "unlike your last girlfriend" I was.

I thought that was a good thing...apparently not.

Exactly one year ago today, your grandfather, with brown age-spots splattering his veiny hands, clasped my tapering fingers in his, telling me that his grandson had chosen well. My intelligence impressed him, and in parting, he told me that he hoped he would "see me again."

Too bad that didn't work out, huh?

The truth is, I am amazing at making great first impressions, but when you dig too deep, like you did, you tend to come up clutching the bones from the skeletons in my closet rather than the secret and adorable nuances you were hoping to uncover.

Oh, they are there, but you always find the stupid bones first. Stratification has left the good underneath the bad, but just like a walnut, you've got to get past all that to find the real me.

Too bad you didn't stick around long enough to pull out the nutcracker.

Oh well. I prefer that your parents remember me as the witty and helpful girl I was when I skipped my family Thanksgiving to eat with yours. I loved your mother and her crazy ideas and tendency to start a million art projects but still manage to finish them all. Your dad was delightfully unconventional, and took us all for a ride in that ancient model A that made the day perfect and archaic at the same time.

But, like that rusty but exquisite car, time changes things and feelings fade, change and get twisted by lies.

But you already know this. We've rehashed it enough. I'll stop.

I'm thankful for my family this year. Never again will I skip our ridiculous games and hilarious teasing.