Staring out the window of my parents’ house, the sky seems a richer, brighter blue than I ever can recall. One aspect of things that doesn’t seem familiar. It’s nice to move through this big house with its spacious, airy kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. Feels normal. Throwing on a pair of shorts this morning, shorts that I found in the dresser in my room, I was tempted to go for a quick run, like all those mornings so long ago. It felt easy and possible, unlike the burden it is for me, for some reason, in NY. That being well and true, the temperature outside is almost 100 degrees already.
Being here, driving along 35 coming down from Austin and into San Antonio, I am reminded of the ease of life here. At least my life before I was concerned with having a ‘career’ and the type of meaning I was searching for was of a whole different ilk, something far less tangible yet rewarding to the self and… in an ironic way, hollowing at the same time.
Speaking of time, there used to be so much more of it. Working and planning an event was a real possibility. Val’s graduation party came to mind as I rode home last night. The ease of meeting people at boutiques to shop for dresses, taking responsibility of getting the cake, the flowers, of gathering photos and videos to display to the crowd the night of the grand event. So much more possible planning a graduation party then than even being involved with any wedding planning now. Sometimes I can see it’s taking a toll on Justin, but more often I have to be told. Last night he was in a foul mood over my lack of availablity, and on the train into Manhattan yesterday morning he described a conversation he’d had with someone about the wedding planning. They, asuming stereotypical gender roles and relationship dynamics, asked him how much if at all he was involved with the planning. He frankly told them he was doing almost everything himself. Things like that are heavy weights on my chest, yet I am stubborn and persistent, often in a single-minded way. Somehow, though, despite my work constraints I need to be around more for him, invovled more for him, for us.
How divergent these streams of consciousness can be. A bird bouncing playfully from tree limb to tree limb out front once more distracts me from my sinking thoughts. I’ve been awake for half an hour now with my cup of coffee and my note pad. With my father’s cowboy hat on my head and my clothes selected from the time capsule of my room. Green umbros and a black and silver spaghetti strap xs tank top from Express. Used to adore that store, but think this shirt may’ve been Val’s. As I rummaged through my chest of drawers this morning, I discovered 2 swimsuits I like. I’d been wondering about their fate for a while. Should’ve occurred to me they were in the time capsule. Though coming home has a slightly less bizarre and and eerie affect than it used to. For years, the calendar hanging in my bathroom displayed Oct. 2006, the month we packed up and left for New York. A few visits ago I decided it would be best to change it. Who needs a reminder anyway. Coming home causes one to reflect enough as it is, to remember, to compare – to see how different things are now , how different oneself is now – for better or worse. The floors need to be swept, need to be vaccuumed. My father’s office is a disaster of debris – a miserable thing to walk across. Not that he ever cleaned it. I suspect the culprit of its state lies in the fact that his doting mother, who lives no further than the length of two football fields from here, has distanced herself a bit lately. Family is an interesting game to play.
Anywho – Dad’s 60th birthday party is tonight. Today, my Aunt Sha Sha and cousin Sheila are throwing a bridal shower for me. It is very sweet of them, but there’s still a small, introverted creature inside me that’s not looking forward to the situation.
Ironic human that I am, craving attention while also despising the thought of being the center of it. Time to get ready to get.
