(no subject)
So you want a weekend update, you say...well lets see.
Watching my sister walk across the stage with her Honor Cords on and her pregnant belly sticking out of graduation gown, I was moved more by my mother's look of pride and joy, then I was by the actual event. Yes, it's grand and wonderful and something she worked hard for and of course, I am proud of her. I am proud that she found love and is creating a beautiful little family, I'm proud that she accomplished finishing school and setting down roots. My mother and stepfather beamed so brightly that I could not help but pull back from the glare and know that look would never fall on me. And in some ways, yes, I do care. I care that I, in living my life the way I see fit and unfit on occasions, has been a source of disappointment for my family. My blood. The closest thing to a person. The people that will care when I'm gone or just out of luck. I care that my life will never make these people beam.
We celebrated an early christmas with the older sister and her perfect family. My raucous and loud nephew, jumping on my lap and pulling my hair, telling me in his loudest screech "Aunt Leslie Rules the Day" because that is what I taught him to say in the presence of others. We opened gifts and had coffee and we all felt a little older, a little better than others, a little sadder than most. And I looked at my mother again...this time with eyes open to the age and sickness I now know she feels and I think christmas is just a time to be sad. Because in this glare of false happy holidays, I know the rich texture of life underneath, and the glittering lights don't show true.
The whole weekend, I ached to be elsewhere. But here was where I should have been. And here, is where my heart should lay. Not off chasing shadows in darkened bars and alleyways. Not off chasing the bright lights of other peoples lives but enjoying the twinkling of mine.
Watching my sister walk across the stage with her Honor Cords on and her pregnant belly sticking out of graduation gown, I was moved more by my mother's look of pride and joy, then I was by the actual event. Yes, it's grand and wonderful and something she worked hard for and of course, I am proud of her. I am proud that she found love and is creating a beautiful little family, I'm proud that she accomplished finishing school and setting down roots. My mother and stepfather beamed so brightly that I could not help but pull back from the glare and know that look would never fall on me. And in some ways, yes, I do care. I care that I, in living my life the way I see fit and unfit on occasions, has been a source of disappointment for my family. My blood. The closest thing to a person. The people that will care when I'm gone or just out of luck. I care that my life will never make these people beam.
We celebrated an early christmas with the older sister and her perfect family. My raucous and loud nephew, jumping on my lap and pulling my hair, telling me in his loudest screech "Aunt Leslie Rules the Day" because that is what I taught him to say in the presence of others. We opened gifts and had coffee and we all felt a little older, a little better than others, a little sadder than most. And I looked at my mother again...this time with eyes open to the age and sickness I now know she feels and I think christmas is just a time to be sad. Because in this glare of false happy holidays, I know the rich texture of life underneath, and the glittering lights don't show true.
The whole weekend, I ached to be elsewhere. But here was where I should have been. And here, is where my heart should lay. Not off chasing shadows in darkened bars and alleyways. Not off chasing the bright lights of other peoples lives but enjoying the twinkling of mine.