No one should be surprised that I have spent the last 24 hours staring at the news, live on my tv and streamed from Oklahoma City on the Internet. No matter how many years I live away from there, the state where I grew up will be "home." So far I have seen most of my high school friends with whom I'm still in contact check in on Facebook, but I can't remember how many moved up to the suburbs around OKC. I'm pretty sure I've heard one or two live in Moore somewhere. I've seen post-storm messages from just one.
Before the storm stirred up notions of the brevity of life, I had already been kicking around ideas how to describe the way my immediate family communicates with each other. We can talk about just about anything, openly and honestly, eager to learn, teach, share, or commiserate. But when it comes to expressing our feelings for each other, we clam up, and revert to the sophistication of awkward teenagers. I can't explain what the difference is. I don't know whether I taught my own reticence to my children by example, or is there some other factor at work. It wasn't the case when they were very young. Back then, I couldn't stop telling them how much I love them. For the last decade or so, it has been the hardest thing for me to say to them, to my man, or to my parents. We have found substitutes for those words, that are not always apparent for what they are. We tease each other like we are in elementary school. My younger daughter is my pop culture guide, and we communicate through memes and daily texted photographs of our cats. I don't have as frequent interaction with my older daughter, but I think she understands the subtext in the things I say and do. I have an even more complicated, difficult to fathom system with the man. In times when I am in doubt, when I wish that we knew how to use our words, I sometimes look at the home we have created for each other. If one knows what to look for, this Park speaks volumes about how we feel. Neither the inside nor the outside of this place is low-maintenance. Nothing is on auto-pilot. Everything is interesting; everything has a story. There are no wide, empty spaces. There is beauty and wildness and effort. There is sweetness. There is passion. There is acceptance. And every inch of it reflects our family. For someone who wants to spend her time writing, I am amazed at how much can be said without words.
"as you wish"
ReplyDeleteOr in our case
"you're a poopyhead"
I met you guys soooooo many years ago I've stopped counting. I think about how many of the couples I knew then who are still together and the list is very short. You guys must be doing something right.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Shanti. I once heard George Harrison's widow say many people have asked her what the secret was to a long, successful marriage. She shrugs and says, "Don't get divorced." I translate that into the Galaxy Quest chant, "Never give up! Never surrender!"
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