Thursday, September 15, 2005
The Places We Miss the Most
My gingerbread candle glowing already, a cool morning just outside my window...I ache for family. Last night I got a chance to look through pictures from my cousin's wedding. I snagged a few - by far there were more, better taken ones, but these had the family members so I made sure to save them on what little USB space I had left. I don't get to see many of my aunts or uncles very often. And I can't even keep track of the cousins I have yet to meet or haven't seen in years. Only once in my life have I seen all of my aunts and uncles together in one room. We all laugh alike. The family members that do live in the states, don't visit much. Not nearly as often as they used to. Lately I've missed my Aunt Darya terribly. I remember how we'd sit out on the porch and just talk for hours, going through one cigarette after another, our coffee milky and cold by the time we went in...our sides aching. I wish for my Aunt Francesca every time I stop at Barnes & Noble. We split up as soon as we get inside and when we meet up again her arms are full of books on spiritual stuff that I kid her about. We take them to a table in the cafe, but we never get a chance to look through them. We're too busy talking. I got my Uncle Gene once. Notorious for practical jokes, acts of drunkenness and loading little kids up with sugar, he once poured water on my head as I slept on the couch. Acting quickly, I went for his pants. We've been equals ever since. Nobody gets any sleep when my family visits. We drink too much coffee and eat too much sugar. Israeli music shakes the walls. For a time - I am separated from the life I know, the friends I have, the work I do. I'm part of something more intricate and complicated, happy and sad and sensitive. It's my village. And I miss them all.