Absurdity

My sister and brother-in-law's house is broken. Well, I shouldn't say that the whole house is broken. The water pipe broke at the foundation. Seeing as I have been the only one staying there for the past three nights I am sure that it was my fault. I break things; that's what I do. Apparently even houses are not immune to the wrath that is Amanda. In any case, having this happen right now is pretty much a testimonial to the old saying, "when it rains it pours". We all need a little comic relief. Though I probably shouldn't find it in the memory of carrying pots of water from a cooler upstairs last night to dump into the back of the toilet in order to flush it, but I do. I also acknowledge the absurdity in all of it. When I came home on Wednesday night I noticed there was a pleasant stream of water pouring down the driveway. I distinctly remember thinking, hmm, interesting that it rained so much here and not at all in DC. Keep in mind that it had to have rained a little bit because the ground all around was wet. I am not completely oblivious to the world around me. Though, it still didn't hit me later when I tried to flush the toilet and the tank was bone dry. Nope I didn't tie the two together at all. Lola, their black pug, barked all night. I was spooked about stalkers/thieves/murderers. I am sure she was barking at the rumbling of the waterfall that the front porch had turned into. I drifted off to sleep, eventually. I woke up to a severe decrease in water pressure. Did I call my sister? oh no. I washed my face and fed the dogs. But then she called me and in passing I told her that I couldn't flush the toilet. She said to just fill up the tank. Then I hear my brother-in-law, Jay, in the background start asking her questions. She asks me to go out front. I know what she is going to ask me before she does. I tell her yes, Niagara Falls has briefly relocated to Pasadena, Maryland and taken up residence directly outside her front door. She wasn't pleased. I think it may have had to something with the fact that Emerson Kate is still in the hospital and that the water situation may just be what breaks the camel's back; or in this case my sister's. When I got to the hospital I went into to see Emerson, Kate appeared a moment later.

My sister has been a rock during this entire time. She has been so strong. I have only caught one or two tears. When I went to hug her; she started crying. "Stupid, stupid water" she said in her laughing,crying sing-songy voice. The nurse wasn't aware what we had been talking about and said something to us. She repeated what she said because by the obvious look of question on our faces she realized we had not heard her. "Is it because of the incision? Are you crying because of the incision?" The nurses had removed Emerson's dressing and her incision was much more noticeable. Kate and I look at each other and kinda laugh. Of course the tears are not over her little girls scar; that she can handle. It is just the house that is breaking her strong self down. Absurd, yes... A realignment of priorities; of course. Acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of timing, triple check. All I want to do is just ask, really? right now? seriously? The porch is going to be fixed; not as gently as Emerson's heart was, but everything soon will start to go back to normal; Two healthy daughters, running water, a porch that isn't waterlogged. Isn't life grand?

What is Family?

Today, families and bloodlines do not run parallel. This is my reality. I am one of six siblings; only two of which share half of my blood. I am equally close to those "blood" sisters as the other siblings who do not share this common defining force. I have a father, a real father, who chose me. He decided, before I ever could, that he would not only be my father, my guardian, but at the end of the day he chose to be my dad. This father of mine chose another child who didn't have his blood either. He saw past the black and white lines that an old society had declared law. I was there when this little brother of mine was delivered into this world. I saw God the day he was born. My family grew that day. My dad and his wife (who is also of no blood relation to me) gave birth to another baby boy two years later. I have two small brothers because these two were not blinded by blood bearing bindings. They are 22 and 24 years younger than I, respectively.

While I acknowledge this man who chose me as a daughter; I do not deny where I have come from. My biological father who was married to my mom; went on to remarry and have a family of his own. The woman he chose to start a new life with brought a daughter with her. She happens to be 3 months older than I am. Though it is physically impossible to have a blood sister who is three months older, I have this sister. She is as real to me as the lightning bugs we caught in the summers together over 20 years ago. Is family not history? That father whose blood pulses through my veins had two more daughters. They are my half sisters. I certainly declare them as my sisters though. They are as related to me as my two young brothers and my older sister. I have a family that is not bound together by the old rule that you cannot choose your family; you are born into them.

There are people out there who stand by the belief that blood is binding. To me they have not had the chance to experience the opportunity to choose a family. I beg them; have you not ever asked a friend into your family? Have you never considered another as a part of your heart, a part of you? To me this is what family is. I wonder about those who adhere to these strict definitions of family and if they are truly happy to draw the line at such a rigid point.

I am the length of the country away from my home to sit with my sister who shares no relation to me. I sit there gazing at her daughter, my niece, who just had a life saving operation; and I do not question that I am her family. I sit there thankful that I am welcomed into such an intense life experience. There are siblings out there who do not talk. Years go by and it is painful for them to pick up the phone; but since they share the same blood they are more honorable than us who don't? This is not a subtle discussion for me. Often, I do feel as if I have to defend my relationships with these siblings of mine who either vary so much in age or in distance. This challenge does not make me wonder if I am not their family; it only forces me to acknowledge the pain that I have that I was unable to grow up in an environment that was so indicative of this seemingly common experience. You see I was raised an only child. As I say this I do not wish to change what I had; I only am bearing witness to an experience that I certainly didn’t have. But I do not believe that it warrants the right to say that any of these people are not my family.

I saw my sister and her husband comfort each other in ways only an intimate couple know how to do. Things that only family know how to do. I understand that marriage is a ceremonial platform to declare that two people are joined as family; however do they only become family at that exact moment in time where the "I do" is uttered? I beg to differ; at some point these two people realized they had a bond before they chose to formally commit. Do we, as people not seek these connections on a daily basis? Do we not seek this behavior in a partner, in a friend? If you do not, I beg for you to challenge me.

The best thing about true family is that they never make you choose. That is when you know who has decided to stand beside you. Yes, disappointment is inevitable when there are multiple people that are being dealt with. Homes, holidays and hearts are implicit with families. Though, there will never be a line drawn saying you may not be with this person/family. They let you go; heavy hearts and all. We all face a sense of loss when those who mean so much to us choose to be elsewhere. But a family picks up the pieces and understands that no matter what, everyone still stands united no matter how far apart.

What is family? A family, to me, is an unspoken pinky swear; with all of its simplicity and complexity.

I Heart Emerson

A heart is a heart, is a child, is a baby, is a niece. Here I am. I sit in the night looking at my niece fast asleep in her car seat. When she fusses I alternate between putting the binky in her mouth and rocking her seat. Her mouth is open. She is in a pink onesie; it has little puppies all over it. They are named cozy dog. Her mother, my sister, is writing and tearing up at the same time. I leave her be. She needs this time to feel. I need this time with a baby Emerson; that is the greater truth.

I still disguise my need for others. My older sister has always been this beacon of strength for me. She constantly held this position in life that I daydreamed of. Things like that never waver. Both of her daughters are as close to my own babies that I can feel. Emerson with her heart, and me with my own, I can only pull slight parallels. I am familiar with her future tests, her need to be pulled out of school, her need for an early adulthood. I feel connected to her as I would any other being, but the fact that she is my sister's daughter makes that truth so undeniably true. Here I sit in a place that I am completely immobile. I can gather the mail, put the dishes away, feed the dogs. I cannot take away the uncertainity, I cannot take away the scar on Emerson's chest. I am unable, at the end of the day to take away the unseen scars that my sister and her husband bear. I am uncomfortably aware of my inability to do anything mildly remarkable at all right now.

Tonight it is about life and the ones you love. They may be far away, they may be holding your hand, but no matter they are there to guide you. Live RIGHT now as if there is no other moment. Live with no fear in regards to the one that you are with. This is life and this is all that we have... Goodnight.

Elusive Discussion of Happiness

Today, I got a surge of self, one of those moments when life seems a little less opaque. I need these flashes to remember that this is my own journey. I have spent nearly a year dealing with my grief. I created this blog as an exploration of my feelings in regards to a sometimes overwhelming sense of loss. A new normal, a psychological term used to describe the reality that introduces itself after one has experienced loss. A phrase that I heard in passing that seemed so applicable to my life when I started this type of writing. I have studied how writing is used as a form of healing. I am fascinated that even the physical act of using your hands, through writing or typing, stimulates areas in the brain that soothe the mind and calm the soul. When I started posting here; I did not understand that I was silently reaching out to a community while wrapped safely in my anonymity. I thought I was just writing. In truth I have been healing parts of myself, making myself whole again. So now, as I experience this wholeness that I have been struggling to find, I find my creative voice becoming more of a whisper, a slight autumn breeze. Why?

I am finding that it is far more revealing for me to offer up my happiness than to discuss aspects of my sadness. I am surprised if not shocked by my trepidation in communicating just how happy I really am. And here I am discussing fear while trying to define happiness. Comical.

Feeling more exposed and a little more raw than I like to admit; I will say the root of my gratitude comes from the realization that life cannot be lived without being a little bit carefree. I feel that there is this instinctual pull to be in control of everything. I think the secret to letting gratitude in is simply escorting some of the control out. Little surprises, quirks, coincidences can be such a source of fullness. In a sense these small serendipitous moments allow for the option to believe that we are not so alone. I am not saying that this is the key to happiness. What I am saying is that it is possible to seek out joy and make it a part of your daily routine, that being whole is a choice. I don’t mean to sound so overly simplistic, but I am surprised to say that it is just that: simple. All of our actions are manifested from choices me make. We as humans have the opportunity to choose how we see our life. Personally, there were years I certainly did not choose life. Those days have been replaced with a more conscious effort to make my life not only worth living but one that was worth saving. Life is cyclical, and I only hope that I remember that I have a choice in all that I do. I will again be faced with great sadness and great joys, these experiences carving out a stronger, more definable sense of self. I have again found myself in a new normal, a normalcy born out of awareness, and appreciation as well as a bit of apprehension. I have written about this before but moments, all moments, good and bad, are fleeting. So as I choose to celebrate this ever-expanding sense of joy I escort in not just the possibility but also the inevitability of it all changing. Changing for the better or the worse, we are not sure, but we can count on the fact that it will all change.

I am writing this while I should be packing for my trip back east tomorrow morning. My 10-week-old niece is scheduled for open-heart surgery on Tuesday. I don’t know what will happen. I am aware of all of the possibilities. I am choosing to focus on the right now. And at this moment, as I glance at the cup of tea in front of me it is so obviously half-full; a small moment of quiet serendipity to reassure me that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Joyous.