My first family - the one with my mom & dad & sister - doesn't read my blog
But I still need to acknowledge how grateful I am for their presence in my world, even if that presence is 6 hours of driving (and no simple plane or train ride) away. And that I miss them when we go long stretches without visits.
My favorite things to think about from my original family life:
- the way my mom can smell a bargain from 80 miles away and will not only seek it out for herself but also for friends & relatives (or friends & relatives of friends & relatives) who might be interested
- the way my dad keeps himself from telling me to shut up during the game when I have some piece of trivia about a football player, and that he still always wants to watch with me anyway
- the way my sister rolls her eyes if I start bantering with a store clerk I've never met, and the way she threatens to leave me behind if I don't stop talking TO A STRANGER (but she never does leave)
- our house on Whidbey Island, which is in the same spot and contains the same odd, short, makes-you-trip-when-you-run-on-it staircase as when it was built more than three decades ago, even though the entire downstairs is completely remodeled, and smells like dryer sheets & good food & my mom's hard work
- our garage, which houses dozens of boxes of my extremely embarrassing notes from junior high and Fisher-Price Little People (the ones that would spontaneously choke unsuspecting American children today), and smells like gasoline & oil & my dad's patience with me
- our driveway, which used to lead to my grandparents' house across the way (I could run there in 14 seconds; I timed myself once when the big light in the center was out and I had to get something from my grandma after dark)
- the cozy warmth when we light the wood stove then pull out old blankets and sit together, in front of the TV with ice cream
 |
| Young Bad Mom with the Good Dad who took her on all the scary rollercoasters |
 |
| My beautiful baby sister, my beautiful mom, and me |
