I’m in Pensive Mode today. I’ve found new friends in unexpected ways –some on-line, one through some lost mail I was given dating back to WWII. I’ve found bunches of relatives, and a bunch more have found me prowling the records of Ancestry.com. That’s been a riot, having lived my first 60 years clueless that there was “anyone” out there.
I’m grateful, very grateful, that I developed survival skills at a tender age; and grateful for the flip side: I haven’t needed them for many decades. In a dream I wrapped an imaginary ribbon around those memories and left them beneath an old sprawling live oak tree in the park I played in as a child.
I’m sitting high watch on a young family member who is going through a very painful metamorphosis that has cost everyone many sleepless nights, especially him. I was the last one he clung to as he began the crazed business of trying to get comfortable in his life, and finally I too became too much for him and ran away again: he found I’d been” tracking” him. He doesn’t understand this is part of my nature, Nancy Drew and all that. Intrestingly, he sort of set it up long ago by introducing me to his friends, asked me to take him to their homes. Well, hellyeah I knew who to contact and where they llived when I needed info. But I came a little too close, I got Z-listed, just like his parents.
I sat back on my heels, let the old earth take a couple of spins and a wonderful calm came over me: I understood he was going to be alright. I recalled my own words: the child you see at the age of five or six is the person who emerges from the cocoon as an adult. They cannot hide from themselves.
I decided to call him once weekly, understanding he would not answer when he saw my phone number pop up! My plan was to leave a very brief, up-beat message of caring and love. I was very surprised when, after a few weeks, he answered my call on the first ring. We talked a few times, and I’ve not suggested we get together, that will be his job.
Then he asked if I could take him to the Junior College to turn in some assignments. Of course I said I would. And when he is ready to talk, I will listen. Just Listen. And if he asks for an opinion I will give an opinion, emphasizing it is mine.
This close to Home & Heart experience really got my attention. I’m thinking our lives, unbeknownst to us, are driven by trying to get what we need, even as we believe we pursue what we want. This was covered once in an old country-western song, many other times throughout the ages and their cultures.
Here we are in the new millineum and for eighty years generations of Americans have chased money in order to purchase excitement and exhilaration, respect and love.
I say “chasing money” because for so many decades we two-leggers of The First World have been groomed to consume this, wear that and drive these, as carefully as a pedophile targets his prey. We have become worker-bees, and forgot about where we live, relax and gain sustenance.
So where is that Honey who asks “How was your day?” and wants to hear about it. She won’t get off work for another two hours.
Where is the time to go sit down and share time with husband, with wife, with youngsters: Sorry, I promised I’d show up for the “BlaBla Association” lecture tonight. We can talk then.
And are we really so busy we can’t reach out and brush a cheek, give a pat on the head, or say “I love you” and not say why?
Melanie Alcorn Wood 