In my final hour

One of the things I’ve always wanted to do was have and experience “family.”  People have told me that there are both good and bad parts to being in a family.  I’ve been led to believe that the former makes the latter tolerable.  Unfortunately, the latter has over occupied my heart leaving me confused and often distrusting.  When I see a family that works I’m drawn to it like a starving artist to an audition.  I want to be as much apart of their circle as I can.  I love feeling welcome.  Feeling welcome means being asked to do the dishes, cooking in the kitchen, picking their kids up from field hockey, and putting gas in their car.

In my lifetime I strive to and often fall short of being like my grandma.  She had a horrible childhood and promised herself she’d never do the same to her children.  This is a woman who I think is beautiful. Because she is awesome and ridiculous she responded this way during our most recent conversation about her marriage to my often unfaithful (but awesome) grandfather she said, “I was ugly and he was ugly so I figured, ‘Why not.'”  As a kid my mom worked a lot and my grandmother took care of us.  She, someone who grew up in Jamaica, would grease our faces with Vaseline  and overdress our bodies in cotton in the winter.  After hours of sledding she greeted my brother and I at the door with a hot cup of Milo.  Her voice is soft and her words are softer.  If I could be a woman I would be like my grandmother.

If I could be apart of a family  I’d choose the Cummins.  If I had an hour to live I’d hangout with Zander.  His hugs make me feel normal and not broken.  His kisses are so dear and genuine I begin to empathize with crazy aunts who pinch their nephew’s cheeks.  I’ve known him since he before he was born and that is special to me.  I’ve never had that.  When he remembers my name or wants to talk to me on the phone it’s like my 9th birthday (favorite day ever) all over again.  He’s my favorite person in the world.

So, in my final hour hopefully I’d be person with a heart just like my grandma spending time with my favorite 2+ year old walking through the woods with his dog Rasta and my crazy dog Garvey.

Advertisements