My grandparents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary earlier this summer. Amazing isn't it? And what my grandmother wanted more than anything was for the whole family to get together for a nice weekend in the mountains. She wanted us to sit around in piney air, in folding camp chairs, telling stories and laughing together until we cried together. And she got her wish. There were a couple of people missing . . . my dad and stepmom who live in Belize and were in the States earlier this year couldn't make it back, especially during hurricane season, and two of my younger cousins had to work. But the rest of us, over the course of the last few days, got in our cars and and headed to the mountains, and set up a big family camp, on Labor Day weekend, next to this lake. With this view.
It really is amazing that so many of us were all in one place. I've been absent from most of the family gatherings for the past seven years or so, living on the other side of the continent, flying home maybe once a year. As the oldest in my generation that was sort of my role. The one bird who'd really flown the nest. But I came back. And we'd picked a spot where the cousin closest to me in age, and the one most likely to be absent after me, Tony, couldn't help but attend. He spends his summers just up the road leading rafting trips. So we were there. Most of us. Laughing until we cried. And it was really really lovely. One of the reasons I came home for this year. Spending time with these people I've known my whole life, who I don't really know that well, but who share these weird hair trigger tear ducts.But I could only spend one night. I'm tied to this house by these damned kittens. I wasn't comfortable leaving them alone for longer, so this morning, I tried to leave. That wasn't so bad. I'd prepared my grandmother for that. She wasn't happy, but she understood. I think I could have gotten away without more than a tear or two. But I made a mistake. I tried to leave before the family photos were taken. I hate having my picture taken. It makes me feel awkward and gauche. And I'm vain enough to not want to be photographed with messy hair and no mascara or concealer and that's what would have happened. Because there was a little miscommunication and my grandmother had told me that the family photos weren't being taken until Monday so I, in my packing light obsession, had left behind all fripperies and only brought camping things. No mascara. No black t-shirt and khaki pants (the uniform of this proposed family photo. Although, now that I think about it, I'm not sure I could have found a pair of khaki pants or a black shirt to pack even if I'd known I was supposed to bring them.) Whatever, the point is that I was thrilled to have these dual excuses for not having my picture taken. I had to get home to the kittens and I didn't want to ruin the symmetry of the photo, in my grey t-shirt and jeans, with my frizzy hair and blotchy skin and puny eyelashes. And the family tried to get me to stay, but . . . I was so happy to escape. And just as I was leaving, I saw my grandmother. And she wasn't crying, she was weeping. And I felt like the most selfish, heard-hearted, bitch. I'd made my grandmother cry because I didn't want to be immortalized without my Shu Uemera. So I stayed for another 20 minutes. And I smiled. And I felt horrible. And now I'm crying just a little thinking about it. Because I'm home now. And I was right to leave when I did, because the cats managed to consume every drop of water I'd left out, but . . . the rest of the family is still at the lake. And even though I'm breathing mountain air, it's not the same. And I made my grandmother cry.
[NB: The fire is 7 miles closer than it was when I left on Friday. But they're slowly getting it contained. It's amazing how much more resources get devoted to a fire when it threatens many multi-million dollar properties.]
No comments:
Post a Comment