I live in a small town. The same town that I grew up in (for the most part, from 8 years old on). It's not like I never left. I did go away to college and I lived elsewhere after graduation. But even though most people can't wait to get away from the place where they grew up, I knew I would ultimately end up back here. I love it here. Because lots of memories were made here. And because most of my family still lives here.
I LOVE my family. To the depths of my heart. Not just the one I created by marrying my husband and having children (and those family members I've now acquired through that union - I will write about them another time), but the one that created me. My parents, my brother, my sister, my cousin (who is like a sister) and her parents, too. I adore them. And I mean that very sincerely.
They piss me off sometimes and I disagree with them often. But, mostly, I laugh with them and spend time together and am forever grateful to have them in my life and so close by. I joke about how much we see my family. Matt sometimes feels claustrophobic when we attend yet another Country Club Fourth of July celebration. But he calls my dad all the time to come over and help him with house projects. And my mom is ready to watch the kids at the first phone call. It means so much to me that my kids know their grandparents so well.
I can write plenty about stuff that happened when I was a kid. Good and bad. Like when my sister used to tell me that mom and dad had the perfect family with a boy and a girl, until I was born. Or how she and I would stay up all night playing monopoly and have to push the board under the bed to save it for another day. Watching my brother play sports and having crushes on his friends. When they had a party when my parents were away and made me help them clean up the next day (before they'd drive me to church) and swore me to secrecy. All experiences that are part of who I am.
In case it has seemed different from some of the post I've written so far, I want to be clear that I do not want to make anyone upset. Having a blog is like chatting with a friend, gossiping and therapy at the same time. So the positive and negative are intertwined. So is life.
This is a perfect little small town. Close enough to a big city, but far enough away to have all it's own unique stuff. It is rich in culture and history. It has great schools, good sports programs, and, of course, lots of traditional activities. Like the annual Memorial Day parade. The same one I marched in as a clarinet player in my junior high band and twirled baton in for my high school. Every year we meet up with my sister and watch the parade together.
This is where my niece peed on the floor of Starbucks when she couldn't make it to the bathroom in time. Where my nephew yelled out "Hey, isn't that the baseball coach you hate" when the teams walked by. Where my nephew said he wanted to play the flute and when we told him boys don't play the flute, a rare male flutist happened to be right in front of us. Where Scott cried when the guns went off when he was a baby. Where the cousins have waved their little flags and scrambled to pick up the candy thrown from parade marchers. Where my sister and I critique the bands, deciding which is the best each year.
I am so happy to be here and to spend this time with my family of origin and with my nuclear family that I am now the center of. I know that when my children are older they too will see the significance of family. How they shape us and nurture us and makes us angry and proud. I know they will feel their hearts swell too remembering all the things we've done together.
In our small town this Memorial Day we are especially sad. Two of our own were recently killed in the war. There were signs and memorials set out for these soldiers. My mom and I attempted to explain the significance of this and to help Scott understand why there are wars and people die. It is not easy to explain something you do not understand yourself.
I am so deeply sorry for the families of these servicemen. Their loss is as painful as it gets. Knowing that their family traditions will never include these people again is heartbreaking. The irony of having a family to make memories with at a time when we honor those that fought and died for us did not go unnoticed for me today.
I have never been more grateful to have those that I love so close. I am forever in debt to those that have sacrificed their lives and potential memories to make that possible for me and my family.
Hey Dee!
Could you tell I felt a little guilty writing about how my family annoyed me? You are right , of course, as anyone that knows me well will say, I DO love my family. We have our issues, but I genuinely like to spend time with them.
Posted by: Lori at Spinning Yellow | May 30, 2007 at 02:01 PM
I can hear you saying, as I have heard you say many times over the years since I have known you, "I love my family". Your unconditional love for one another is to be admired! -Dee
Posted by: Dee | May 29, 2007 at 11:28 PM