Sounds like my late wife’s family reunions. Every summer the whole clan would reunite in the holler in West Virginia: anyone under 50 and not pregnant got an air mattress. Air traffic control was needed for bathroom access. The yard was set up for horse shoes, cornhole, volleyball and badminton 🏸and the above ground pool was full of kids all day long. Although my parents’ families were just as big I had never seen anything like this. I was the youngest child (by 16 years) of the youngest daughter on mom’s side and pretty much the same on dad’s. Didn’t have any cousins my age, only visited one relative at a time. So I sat on the porch, reading a stack of medical journals I’d bought with me, and watched. It took almost 30 years for me to get comfortable enough to join in the activity. The summer after my wife passed, too young, I actually kicked off my shoes and embraced the chaos. She would have been pleased.
Mary, thank you for writing this. I am still in the afterglow of our time together. For all those years of being at my home together and missing it, for these past three years of being without Joe, for the love and connection and music and laughter and cooking and eating and the general yet wonderful insanity that Cynthia Rylant describes and that we have lived over this past week- it has been so healing for me. I walked into the kitchen and Dan was cooking and playing some Motown and I commented on how it’s my favorite music. His response,” I know, I’m playing it for you.” I felt so seen. When Seabass was braiding my hair, something we’d do in the past, warm memories flooded my mind and it felt good. Anna and I singing while she dyed my hair brought me back to the time we stayed up late into the night singing Lizzo and sewing on patches to her new thrift store jacket, and sitting and coloring with you Mary, encouraging me all the way, reminded me of our connection and how I’ve missed so much and so many in the numb, grieving loss of Uncle Joe. Being with the rest of our family; I felt a special connection to each and every one. Feeling so cared for and loved, I felt lighter and slept better than I have in these past three years. One of my friends who saw me on a Zoom during this time said that I looked radiant, blue hair and all. Though a tear is running down my cheek right now, I can still feel myself smiling. I love you always, Aunt Susan
Catching up on some reading this morning, and I love this delightful story of visiting family. ❤️ Also, I read The Berry Pickers last year…so good. My daughter’s name is Ruthie. :)
This is such a warmhearted piece. We raised our three daughters in a house with one bathroom, and we added three cats and a dog, a mom and a dad and a television that was way too big. I have not read "The Berry Pickers" yet, but my daughter did and told me it was sad. That won't scare me off, I tell you that. Thank you for sharing your life with us.
I love this — and it feels familiar. We have two bathrooms (one with a lock) for 12 people when I get together with my family (and one dog that sometimes acts more like a cat). I know that kind of laughter. I keep picking up and thinking about reading The Berry Pickers, but it hasn't quite made it into my house yet.
Currently reading Show Don't Tell by Curtis Sittenfeld, Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude by Ross Gay, and Sage Warrior by Valarie Kaur ... and I just triaged my library stack. Recently finished The Salt Path and went to a reading yesterday for All That Life Can Afford.
I’m so glad this resonated Sara. The Berry Pickers really worked for me. My reading has been a bit scattered of late which can be good but it was nice to focus my attention in one place.
Sounds like my late wife’s family reunions. Every summer the whole clan would reunite in the holler in West Virginia: anyone under 50 and not pregnant got an air mattress. Air traffic control was needed for bathroom access. The yard was set up for horse shoes, cornhole, volleyball and badminton 🏸and the above ground pool was full of kids all day long. Although my parents’ families were just as big I had never seen anything like this. I was the youngest child (by 16 years) of the youngest daughter on mom’s side and pretty much the same on dad’s. Didn’t have any cousins my age, only visited one relative at a time. So I sat on the porch, reading a stack of medical journals I’d bought with me, and watched. It took almost 30 years for me to get comfortable enough to join in the activity. The summer after my wife passed, too young, I actually kicked off my shoes and embraced the chaos. She would have been pleased.
This is beautiful. Thanks for sharing Daniel!
Mary, thank you for writing this. I am still in the afterglow of our time together. For all those years of being at my home together and missing it, for these past three years of being without Joe, for the love and connection and music and laughter and cooking and eating and the general yet wonderful insanity that Cynthia Rylant describes and that we have lived over this past week- it has been so healing for me. I walked into the kitchen and Dan was cooking and playing some Motown and I commented on how it’s my favorite music. His response,” I know, I’m playing it for you.” I felt so seen. When Seabass was braiding my hair, something we’d do in the past, warm memories flooded my mind and it felt good. Anna and I singing while she dyed my hair brought me back to the time we stayed up late into the night singing Lizzo and sewing on patches to her new thrift store jacket, and sitting and coloring with you Mary, encouraging me all the way, reminded me of our connection and how I’ve missed so much and so many in the numb, grieving loss of Uncle Joe. Being with the rest of our family; I felt a special connection to each and every one. Feeling so cared for and loved, I felt lighter and slept better than I have in these past three years. One of my friends who saw me on a Zoom during this time said that I looked radiant, blue hair and all. Though a tear is running down my cheek right now, I can still feel myself smiling. I love you always, Aunt Susan
I love you too! I love all the details here! Thank you for sharing!
This was the delightful story I needed today!
Thank you friend!
Catching up on some reading this morning, and I love this delightful story of visiting family. ❤️ Also, I read The Berry Pickers last year…so good. My daughter’s name is Ruthie. :)
This is such a warmhearted piece. We raised our three daughters in a house with one bathroom, and we added three cats and a dog, a mom and a dad and a television that was way too big. I have not read "The Berry Pickers" yet, but my daughter did and told me it was sad. That won't scare me off, I tell you that. Thank you for sharing your life with us.
Thanks Tess! There was a lot to wrestle with but it was heartwarming and hopeful too.
Your family time sounded amazing!
🥰 It was so good and needed.
I loved The Berry Pickers 💙. I’d recommend The Stolen Child by Ann Hood or Close Enough to Touch by Colleen Oakley.
Thank you! 🥰
I’m glad you had such a good, life-giving trip! You captured it beautifully.
Thanks friend! I am excited to see you this week and to hear more about the closet!
I love this — and it feels familiar. We have two bathrooms (one with a lock) for 12 people when I get together with my family (and one dog that sometimes acts more like a cat). I know that kind of laughter. I keep picking up and thinking about reading The Berry Pickers, but it hasn't quite made it into my house yet.
Currently reading Show Don't Tell by Curtis Sittenfeld, Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude by Ross Gay, and Sage Warrior by Valarie Kaur ... and I just triaged my library stack. Recently finished The Salt Path and went to a reading yesterday for All That Life Can Afford.
I’m so glad this resonated Sara. The Berry Pickers really worked for me. My reading has been a bit scattered of late which can be good but it was nice to focus my attention in one place.
I expect I will read it at some point ... and I think the author has a new book out.
Ooh… I will look for that. Thank you!