This winter almost passed without any snow in our little piece of the world. I took a trip up North to visit the family this weekend, and was welcomed on my return with 5 inches of snow and counting. It's a little stressful to drive in, but with the Thistle and Shamrock playing on my radio and the dark quiet of the night highlighting the beautiful snow covered trees, there was something wonderfully peaceful about it all.
And I needed the peace. It's always bittersweet going home. This trip was made doubly so with the discord I've been having in my recent romance. I've supposed life is giving me a crash course in all the many things I've failed to learn in the past 34 years. I'm trying so hard.
I've started therapy. I've gone once so far and found it a useful tool in assisting me in my own journey of self-analysis. I've realized some important things these past couple of weeks. There's still a long way to go I believe. Again, I'm trying.
I love my family. I didn't have the easiest childhood, but by far I did not have the hardest either. Looking back now I am forever thankful for 90% of the things that at the time I did not understand or even hated. And now I love these folks that raised me so much beyond what I can ever express. I am afraid to admit now, that part of the reason the visits are so bittersweet is that they always end too soon, and I realize that being with my family is one of the few times I truly feel love and belonging. I am so thankful for that. They are so amazingly loving and wonderful. But the fact that I lack this feeling in my regular life if very disturbing and scary. I'm not sure what to do about it. Not sure what it means.
At one point during this weekend I was driving to the store past the old house I grew up in. The house and whole block, really, looks completely different than when I lived there. But as I drove down the short little road to the main street in town I saw a little girl with long brown hair and a helmet on shakily riding her bike up the road. A few yards behind an older man walked slowly, following her. It was like a flashback. That's exactly where I learned to ride a bike oh so many years ago. As I drove by the house I saw that the girl had fallen when she turned into the driveway. The older man was breathing a little heavy, walking quickly to catch up to her. I waved to the man, and *almost* stopped. But I didn't, and the moment passed, but I lingered, driving slowly, just touched by the cyclical nature of life.
My grandfather and my mother helped me learn to ride a bike. My grandfather was in pretty good shape for most of his life and always stayed active, but he also smoked heavily since he was very young. I doubt he was ever out of breath teaching me back then, but now, at home, it's all the time. Emphysema, heart disease...we had such a horrible scare a year ago, and I am thankful for every moment I get to spend with him. And all of them. When I am home I cherish every moment. My grandmother, uncle, grandfather, these are the people that raised me. I am amazed and awed and humbled by all of it.
My aunt was recently diagnosed with cancer and has started chemotherapy. I stopped to see her on my way out of New York. Of my three aunts, she is the one I've seen the least. She's lived in Florida for many years and rarely gets back home. But she lives back in NY now, thankfully, and so does my cousin, so they get to be together during this difficult time. When I asked my aunt how she was doing, she said, "good, good..." and then told me about a friend of her husband's that went through what she is and has been helping her cope. He's taught her, "Cancer doesn't kill you, it teaches you to live." Can't say that I've ever heard wiser words from my aunt. Why is it so hard for us to remember gratitude and to let go of the things that don't work? Because fear, sorrow, anxiety...none of it serves us. We are here to live. And love love and more love.
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