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| Tuesday, May 17, 2011 |
| Families are Forever |
| I should be packing. I should be tossing things in the garbage bin. I should be taking a damned nap. I am so hell bent today I am bothering myself. I have eight brothers and sisters. Just last year my third-to-the-oldest brother didn't recognize me in a public venue, though I stood in front of him grinning like a fool for five minutes straight. I tried several times to plan parties to bring at least the sisters together, only one unfailingly showed. I am going to get into a lot of trouble with this note, I am sure. But I am past caring. I lived for many years thousands of miles from my 'kin'. There was a viable excuse then for distance. I heard from them more, if you can believe it. Now I am exactly two hours in any direction of all of them, save one, who is thousands of miles from me. Apparently the roads can be travelled by me just as easily, the phone can be lifted by me as well, emails can be written, people can be contacted, at my behest. I suppose if I want to know my family, it is up to me to make the effort. I do not think any of them are willing. Is this what adulthood does? I remember brothers so tall their heads scraped the ceiling, they would swoop me up over their shoulders like a sack of potatoes and tickle me til I couldn't breathe. I remember sisters so beautiful, I wished with all my heart I could be them. We had pickle eating contests, we bottled vegetables, sticky arm against sticky arm, cutting kernals off of corn, shucking beans and skinning tomatoes. We roamed the confines of our tiny town, discovering hide outs, playing tag, offering help to our neighbors. We crouched in the heat of the sun, weeding the never ending rows of vegetables in the garden. We climbed trees, more often than not, I had to be rescued. We fished.. always munching on licorice and bbq potato chips. Dad taught us how to bait our hooks, how to gut our fish, mom taught us how to chase a fish off the line, right into the water, and grab the things in a flurry of words and splashes, she rose with gasping fish clasped so hard in her hands it was gushing blood. We sang in the car, we entertained one another in church (yes, I attended church quite faithfully for a portion of my life), we brushed and braided one another's hair, and soothed each other when shit hit the fan. We jumped to the defence of one another, unless, of coarse it were the parents that attacked, then we blamed one another. Sometimes we would take the fall for each other. Thank you for that. We beat each other up, spit words into each others faces, and apologized when we made one another cry. We attended events through out our lives to celebrate one another, to celebrate accomplishments, to love one another. To love one another. To love. Which is not what we are doing in our adult lives. Loving one another. There is church. There is work. There are kids. There is life. There is no priority here. We do not love one another. We don't even recognize each other. We don't know a thing about the people we have become. We will definitely come running for a crisis, we will raise funds, we will rescue each other.. thats our duty. But will we celebrate each other? No. We won't even commit to a few hours visit. I am a lost abandoned girl. I have eight brothers and sisters. Two parents. I know nothing of most, save their names. |
posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 4:10 PM  |
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