Connected Via Crumbs
Posted on July 31, 2010 - Filed Under California, family, feelings, food, gratitude
I’m back home. The transition was a bit hard, only because I returned to a completely empty house (actually, that isn’t true, good friends stayed here that first night, and I had Gizmo) however, the house feels big. I have doors closed to unused spaces, and my son is in California. Gizmo and I are pretty good company for each other, but I was relieved to get back to work so I didn’t have to completely bear those first days of withdrawal that follow spending time with my little sister.
I took this picture early one morning, after we had all shared a bite of toast and coffee before venturing to the Stanford House to see the acupuncturist and then a day trip to Orr Springs. The light was pushing through a veil of fog off the ocean, and the kid was still in the splendor of teenage sleep (in the closet, no less). Earlier, Michael had woken me to go cuddle up with Monica so that he could carry on his wee-hour rituals of meditation and research. His strong coffee percolating and whining in the kitchen for when we finally stirred, showered, and dressed. Breakfast that morning was light – plates of crispy multi-grain toast, smothered in butter and organic wild-berry jam. In the rush to get to Jessica Rose by 9am, our plates were quickly gathered to the counter to be washed later… and in passing I noticed the residual evidence of our consanguinity in the form of crumbs on those plates, lined up in partnership, waiting together. Time stopped, and I took in a deep breath… for a moment, as the light warmed the scene, I felt a deep sense of being home, being in a place of love and acceptance like no other I know. Never have I felt it like when I am with Monica and Michael, not even in my own home have I known this feeling… a feeling of being completely myself, laughing in the energy that is my truest being among two others who truly see me. There, as the early morning light cast shadows and illuminations, I could feel the connected energy still dancing among those three plates, I could feel the ease with which we play and talk and breathe with each other. I could feel the ride in Elmo [a rickety, web-dusted, seat belt-less, really old truck], laughing and safe. I could feel the games of felicitous Wahoo, taking pleasure in each others presence, and the tumbling witty accusations over luck and losers. I could feel the whispers of sisterly love melded with Michael’s warmth and I felt us three, together… on those plates of crumbs.
It has taken me quite a few days to return to this picture. I wasn’t sure if I could even express what that moment was like, other than it triggering not only a profound sense of being home, but also tears and longing. I miss them both so much once I leave, and I long to live closer. I also miss how easy it is to be myself with Monica and Michael, and I long for relationships that offer that same open space to be myself: unguarded, honest, trusting, laughing, crying, imaginative, creative… woman… all of it. I get to explore so much of myself with them, because I trust that what comes from those explorations comes from a place of love, a place that desires to see me at my best, strong and blossoming. I don’t have to take care of anyone, I don’t have to fix anything existentially, there are no demands of me that aren’t already forthcoming on their own, I don’t have to worry about the language I use because our dictionaries are complementary. We are, three plates, together, dusted with the evidence of our experiences together.
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2 Responses to “Connected Via Crumbs”
I truly loved reading this. It speaks to a place for which we are all in longing: Home. I read this and think about the quaint little chats with my father, I remember making my sister laugh to tears, or talking over a cup of tea when I couldn’t sleep. However diversely individualized, “home” is a term we are familiar with. Even in cases where those things weren’t experienced, there remains an image of what it is supposed to be.
As I read this I realized that I don’t always show you a genuine side of warmth, and like your son, disguise it with humor and playfulness. Above all I want you to know you are a dear friend to me, and a part of my family. As Richard Bach says in Illusions, “The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.”
Thank you for Being just as you are.
Josh
Thank you. I love your response… and I love being a part of your family, our family, and your life, Josh. I truly do. I look forward to all the ways in which we get to grow together, and the opportunity to see all the ways you will have a tremendous impact on the world. >3