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We were home for less than twelve hours before we had to drag our butts back out. We got on a plane and flew to visit my family. It was a visit prompted by illness and just sheer age. There’s nothing wrong with my grandmother, except she’s 93. As Trinity said when she figured it out, “Wow, Mom, that’s like almost a hundred. We’ve got to go see her. She can’t last much longer.” Out of the mouths of children. But it is the truth. The woman has been telling everyone she was dying since she was fifty. She is going to be right someday, at least about that.
My Uncle Jessie on the other hand, is truly ill. A sudden discovery of cancer that he probably has had for years. He looked much better than my other aunt had led me to expect. But then, Aunt Bonita, has always been something of an alarmist. But in this case her exaggeration got me on a plane, and I don’t regret that. It was very good to see Jessie and Juanita, my aunt, and my cousin Millie. The visit was a good one.
I also got to see my Uncle Monk and my cousin Doug. He’s the closest thing I ever had to a younger brother.
I was reminded that my family loves me, and I love them, too, damnit. That we may not always understand each other, but there is still common ground, still room to reach out to one another. Which we all did nicely, thank you. Which was very cool.