After my father's death August 8, 2009, so sudden was everyone in our family's encounter and so sudden was our departure.
I left on an early Friday morning. The last to leave my mom. The last child. But still my oldest two siblings were at home. After the two long weeks after my father died, I left feeling totally confused and jumbled. My past feelings of excitement to be leaving home left with my father's death. But I was ready to leave the house anyway. I knew I must keep going.
Time has flown by here.
Now I see that when I left home I was leaving a world and was plopped right into a new world that is different and simpler. I'm taking care of Hunter, Rachel's baby which in its own way is very simple, sometimes creative and often fun. I become like a child forgetting my young adult worries. And yet they are still there wanting and wishing to be expressed, to be untangled and dissected, yearning for attention and love. But I've abandoned these feelings for the moment to be with a child, to play and wrestle and to sing to a child.
I went to a cafe like my brother suggested and, yes, I did meet people. I read Grapes of Wrath and was hit on by the two workers, they were both bearded Jews, very friendly and very radical. They invited me to Israeli dancing at their house on Friday night saying, “You have Jewish blood in you, don’t you?” One of them would not stop offering me a free Herba mate. I refused politely multiple times but when I was leaving he rushed over and made one for me and I finally took it thinking, 'what the heck, got a free drink.' I didn't even know what it was. I haven't gone back to that cafe. The next time I went to a cafe an old man sitting behind me said "Hello?!" And I turned around. He said he was interested that I was reading a book. I told him what it was and he told me what he was reading, it was something by Keen. He told me about how there are different stages in life and how he likes to watch people like students, business men, mothers and so forth in their stages. He thought I was a student and I told him I was not. He told me that our education system is all screwed up. He said it was all too impersonal (he was banging his book on the table at this point) and he told me to listen..."Listen to wise people - that is the best education."
I've taken three yoga classes. Last night we had to lie on our backs. The teacher explained what we should do, she said, "Flop around like a fish." So I laid there waiting for more instruction but then she said, "Go!" And people began to flop like a fish. I caught on after banging my shoulders on the ground and then my butt and then my feet and then my right shoulder...and so on. Then she said, "You can pretend like you're having a temper tantrum, this is your chance, give it everything." Ooh it felt so good. I wiggled and banged and twisted up my face so good and then we rested.
Rachel, Chris, Hunter and I laugh. We laugh at farts. We have farting competitions at the dinner table. (some of you might find this disgusting please excuse our immature ways.) Last night Hunter just began laughing at farts. He's only one and 2 weeks but he knows the poo humor already. Last night as I was putting Hunter to sleep I rocked him and he cried, and screamed and then blrrruuup!, farted and he quit screaming and shook with giggles. I stopped singing and we laughed hard.
I left on an early Friday morning. The last to leave my mom. The last child. But still my oldest two siblings were at home. After the two long weeks after my father died, I left feeling totally confused and jumbled. My past feelings of excitement to be leaving home left with my father's death. But I was ready to leave the house anyway. I knew I must keep going.
Time has flown by here.
Now I see that when I left home I was leaving a world and was plopped right into a new world that is different and simpler. I'm taking care of Hunter, Rachel's baby which in its own way is very simple, sometimes creative and often fun. I become like a child forgetting my young adult worries. And yet they are still there wanting and wishing to be expressed, to be untangled and dissected, yearning for attention and love. But I've abandoned these feelings for the moment to be with a child, to play and wrestle and to sing to a child.
I went to a cafe like my brother suggested and, yes, I did meet people. I read Grapes of Wrath and was hit on by the two workers, they were both bearded Jews, very friendly and very radical. They invited me to Israeli dancing at their house on Friday night saying, “You have Jewish blood in you, don’t you?” One of them would not stop offering me a free Herba mate. I refused politely multiple times but when I was leaving he rushed over and made one for me and I finally took it thinking, 'what the heck, got a free drink.' I didn't even know what it was. I haven't gone back to that cafe. The next time I went to a cafe an old man sitting behind me said "Hello?!" And I turned around. He said he was interested that I was reading a book. I told him what it was and he told me what he was reading, it was something by Keen. He told me about how there are different stages in life and how he likes to watch people like students, business men, mothers and so forth in their stages. He thought I was a student and I told him I was not. He told me that our education system is all screwed up. He said it was all too impersonal (he was banging his book on the table at this point) and he told me to listen..."Listen to wise people - that is the best education."
I've taken three yoga classes. Last night we had to lie on our backs. The teacher explained what we should do, she said, "Flop around like a fish." So I laid there waiting for more instruction but then she said, "Go!" And people began to flop like a fish. I caught on after banging my shoulders on the ground and then my butt and then my feet and then my right shoulder...and so on. Then she said, "You can pretend like you're having a temper tantrum, this is your chance, give it everything." Ooh it felt so good. I wiggled and banged and twisted up my face so good and then we rested.
Rachel, Chris, Hunter and I laugh. We laugh at farts. We have farting competitions at the dinner table. (some of you might find this disgusting please excuse our immature ways.) Last night Hunter just began laughing at farts. He's only one and 2 weeks but he knows the poo humor already. Last night as I was putting Hunter to sleep I rocked him and he cried, and screamed and then blrrruuup!, farted and he quit screaming and shook with giggles. I stopped singing and we laughed hard.
