being Home

I used to hate it here. Here being my hometown, Olympia. It was nothing but angst and drama...couldn't wait to leave, never wanted to come back. I had amazing friends here, though. Still do. I would not have made it without my friends...thank you, one. Thank you, all. It's amazing how crazy your own family can make you feel without meaning to...I realize now that they never meant it. That's part of being a grown up, I guess. They all grew up, too, more or less. It's all so strange now...but good, too. Most of the time. And now, at last, we ALL can walk on eggshells for the two times a year when we get together. Some of us are nearly whole again...my dad has been sober since I was in my mid-twenties. He has reached a point of comfort in his sobriety that I spent years thinking he'd never reach. I have reached a point in my sobriety that feels like I am no longer "recovering." We never talk about it but do recognize this thing that binds us closest together. Our addictions.
That and Willie Nelson.
When my father looks at me now, I can watch his face light up. It feels just as good at age 38 as it should have at 8. And I can forgive him everything. I understand now.

My relationship with my family has always been difficult... so far behind my brother and sister that I was more like an only child. Also, my parents lost a son to childhood leukemia long before I came into the picture...and they broke. They shattered. It's not unusual...I would break, too. I can see that as an adult. They held me at arm's length, something that could possibly drag them under. As a kid, all I knew was that we were ALL broken, all uneven and unwell, felt that I was a burden and wished I lived with Gramma. Where I felt safe and loved and warm. Thank god for Gramma, too. I love and miss you...immensely. Wish you were here to meet Michael. You would love him so.You wouldn't have to worry anymore. I'm fine.

But growth comes...mind and spirit and body. And I am loved and treasured and feel safe in the arms of most of my family now. Some of us are still broken and will never mend. I can see that now, though, and recognize it, hold it and forgive it. Sometimes it frustrates me but I didn't come through all I did to dwell on what I cannot change. So, the holidays are a time of pain, always. Now, they are also a time of Joy. Of Love and Forgiveness. Of Goodwill. Of Tragedy and of Triumph. And that is what our time here is all about. I do love my family. I know they love me, too, in whatever capacity they can. It is true love...

At the end of the difficult days, there are my friends to savour...and to embrace, to treasure and covet and delight in. Friends for so long that I barely remember my life before them. I can feel my own face light up in their presence. Hell, I can feel it light up just now thinking about them...and their families that are my family and I miss them all over again right now. I love you all. Come visit soon. You all make me laugh loud and long. And Michael, too. WE love you.

Emma enjoyed herself immensely, though she was so distracted by the cats that she forgot to eat...for two days. She loved my friends and family, too... though I am so very sorry, S&L, that she peed twice in your house. She did so well the rest of the trip. You must be very special.

And on the final days of our visit, Emma finally was getting used to sharing her space with the Kittens...Mr. Butterscotch and Mr. Buttertubs, that she even slept on the same couch as Buttertubs. She probably even misses her little antagonist now.

More fun tomorrow....less introspection!