Forgetting Any Other Home But This

[sparrow_lately]

I woke up with a hangover and a cold that could cripple an elephant, wrote this, and went back to bed. Sometime after that I was dragged to a four-hour brunch and now I am posting this and dragging my ass to the gym. I sincerely hope this isn't terrible, and sincerely apologize if it is.

Title: Forgetting Any Other Home But This
Rating: PG?
Words: ~1,

Comments

[tabaqui]

Ah man. This is the most perfect and wonderful and utterly *please let it happen, oh please* ending that anyone could hope for.
Now excuse me while I go sob in the corner.

For real.

[sparrow_lately]

Ah, no, no sobbing! *offers tissues and stilted, New England-born comfort*

Seriously, thank you. I need to believe they'll all find each other again...

[tabaqui]

Yes, they have to!
*sniffle*

*thanks. i'm used to stoic German comfort, so that's fine*

:)

Spirited Away!

[sparrow_lately]

My German mother and Irish Catholic father means I'll pat your back awkwardly and then maybe later get drunk and tearfully tell you your father was a great man. :P

Spirited Away! <3

[tabaqui]

Heeee! My German mom and grandmother means i'll say 'well, you'll be alright' and then go do the dishes, never to mention it again.

My dad was Portuguese, which means 'discuss very loudly and all at once with a lot of drama and yelling and then eat'.

[sparrow_lately]

As an Irishman, I know this loud meal drama of which you speak. :P

[tabaqui]

It was the most fun thing to watch *ever*. We'd go see my dad's family on the east coast every summer, and sit around at the Uncle's house (right next door to the grandma's house) and play cards - 'Shaft your Neighbor' was favorite - and watch my Uncle go berserk because my Aunt had her pocketbook on the table.

This often progressed, after shouting and cussing, to hurling of said pocketbook into the bushes.

Grand times.
:)

My mother's family was so very staid and quiet and undemonstrative. Lovely visits there, too, but *so* different.

[sparrow_lately]

My father's family is loud and amiably argumentative, and visits always involve alcohol and somebody tearing up and somebody dragging up an old argument and lots of hugging and big, sweeping gestures. With the Germans it's all passive aggression and pointing.

[tabaqui]

Heee!
Oh, man, my dad's family would bring up stuff from pre-history, it was hysterical.

I honestly don't remember my mom's family *ever* fighting. They weren't saints, it just...didn't happen. Visits there were always just calm and conversation and me wandering around their big, old house, looking at all the curios in the cabinets and wanting to play the big piano.

*yawn*
OMG, must to bed. :) I'm going to friend you.