Monday, 22 July 2013
Always going home
I probably shouldn’t post this until after Sunday, it is supposed to be a surprise after all, but I’m going to risk that you’ll all work with me and not tell my Dad that he’s turning 80, and that we’re throwing him a party. Yes, I realize he knows he’s turning 80, since he’s amazingly fit for his age, it’s the party. It’s just a little party, of course. He directed us months ago that he didn’t want a party, “ no big party!!” he says in the tone of voice he uses when he wants us to hear what he says and obey it. Ok, no big party…but just a little one. So for the last couple months my siblings, their better haves, mine as well and I, have been planning this little get together behind my Dad’s back. There are a number of things that I find funny about this. Not’ ha-ha that hilarious funny’, but more, “huh, that’s weird” kind of funny. I’m in my mid 40’s, my siblings older, and we still do what we’re told because we’re afraid of making my Dad mad…funny. After all these years, as independent as we all are, when you put us together to plan something, we trip over each other trying to be nice, and include everyone, and then bicker as needed…funny. It never ceases to amaze me how our family dynamics that we grew up with, as evolved and aware as we are, still take charge when we come back together. I know where it comes from, I know we’re creatures of habit and conditioning and all that, but I keep thinking, if I see what’s changed, and what’s happening, don’t the rest of them? Can’t we do it differently than we used to? Funny.
I remember my sister making a comment once that” it doesn’t matter what’s wrong, the second we pull into the driveway, everything is ok.” Maybe there’s a plus side to these family dynamics. Maybe the same habits that drive us crazy about each other really are the ties that bind, that give us comfort, that remind us in a great big crazy world, we’re still ok.
I love going home, I’ll be perfectly honest. I love the farm, the land, the garden that becomes our family meeting spot in the summertime. I love the barn, the yard, what’s new and what’s old, I love going home. As much as I’ve changed, I’ve stayed the same, I’m still a farm girl at heart. As much as I may be aware, I still enjoy the not having to “be” anyone or anything when I’m there. The walls I grew up in don’t care what I do, or who I help, or how much money I do, or don’t make. Miranda Lambert wrote a song a few years ago called “the House that built me”. It’s true, home is sweet, and it’s ripe with memories of all sorts, the good the bad and the ugly, and its home, it build us into who we are, and directs who we become.
Some say you can never go back home, others say you can always go home. I have no idea who’s right and who’s wrong. I only know, after all these years, I still love family meetings in the pea patch, and it still feels oddly familiar to hide little things from my Dad…funny. Ha-ha funny.
Monday, 22 July 2013