About 4 years ago, my niece and I were outside shoveling snow. She was about 4 years old. We weren't as much shoveling snow as we were attacking each other with it. With her on the losing end often enough, and loving every second of it. A slightly chilled elation. A white GS rolls up slow. It was lauryn's father. He's been absent from conception. I try to block her view as I'm called to the car. We talk for about 30 seconds. Lame attempts at concern for my sister which I counter with lame attempts at tact and being cordial. I walk back to the sidewalk, trying to wash this recent exchange from my memory. I sit on the steps and lauryn walks between my knees. Playfully, I pull her hat over her eyes, and she pulls it back up.
"Was that my dad?"
"Yup"
"Why didn't he say hi to me?"
The inner shell that seperates feelings from expression cracked inside of me. I shed tears. Mainly, because I knew there was no way I stop the cogs of her 4 year mind from turning. No way to help her make sense of it all. I couldn't euphemize my words. Children are black and white. Truth or lies. So I gave her what she would understand.
I don't know sweetheart.
I knew then that this was much more that being a uncle. As my father knew it was much more than being pop-pop. And if that person understood, they would realize it was much more than "acting like a baby." That is my baby. From the day she came out of the womb. And stuck that needle in her yellow ass. Gel on her eyes and in my arms. And still now, as she leaves my house and moves on to her new life, with her new dad. Still my baby. Still, it hurts.
Me and my sister's relationship began in dissapointment. They called home when I was born, to assauge my sister's excitement about her new sibling.
It's a boy!
The forecast: a steady rain shower of tears in and around the Kelli Singleton region of the Northeastern United States.
From then, its been a rollercoaster. Times and of joy and pain. But do know this. My sister loves me, through and through, to the bone. She has threatened women in my life with pain if they hurt me, and she meant every word.
And the love is reciprocal.
I can't explain it. It's like explaining a inside joke.
You get it, or you don't.
Just like me.
On a slight tangent:
People say the only thing that is guaranteed to us is death and taxes. I have a addition to that terse and abrupt list. Happiness. Now, I have no idea how to obtain it. I do know that it doesn't come off the rack. Like a good suit, it is talior-made for the individual. This past week however, I have realized how not to obtain it.
I love movies. And in every drama, there is this scene, basted in poignancy. There is one individual, no dialouge. Soul-stirring music. The person is knee deep in thought.
Whenever I'm feeling...off, I recreate this scene, believing (however falsely), that if it works in the movies, it will work for me. And it always fails. Like a comfortable, but detrimental relationship, I run back to it.
What I realized is that in that moment, if you do not come to any real realizations to make your life better, then that moment is wasted. There is no one watching you, hearing the music and feeling your angst through the screen. It is just you, the thoughts you own, and God who sold them to you.
It's up to you to put the purchase to good use.
I took the red pill.
1 comment:
Wow, that was stirring. Mike you've always managed to command my undivided attention with the outpouring of your thoughts. I will never forget some of the things we've discussed. This was soooo you, sooo poetic!
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