I almost begin to think that it’s an accident. It must be. I am not theirs anymore, nor they mine, and though when I talk to Leah, when she asks me, it is my dad I miss, and when she asked if I ever got married I would invite them and my sister, it was only after a brief hesitation, pushing the past aside, thinking more of the good times than the bad, that I said, and meant, that yes, I would.
I wonder if they are afraid as I am. Far too many attempts at retribution, far too many failures, until I finally realized that any attempt at some type of treaty would be short lived and futile, only ending up in all of us carrying an unhealthy weight that should have been let go and buried deep enough so that none of us could ever find a reason a long, long time ago. I wonder if that is the reason for the hidden peek behind the curtain, for the teenage tentative touch, unsure and searching for acceptance… but really – I expect so feeble an act from ‘mom’, but dad? Grow some fucking guts, respect me with trying to match my strength, my passion – even if it is laying dormant somewhere inside. Yes, I’ve gotten lazy over the years forced into a bed, and now that I’m free the covers and escape tangle me, keep me from escape. Perhaps that is why I sleep with my knives, because my heart isn’t sharp enough to cut me free anymore; because my wings have been clipped, and I am afraid also. Afraid to jump again…
Who are you now? Are you someone different, like I am? What have you been through; have you missed me, the me of today, with strength and will and opinions – or has my absence felt like a blessing? I imagine the latter.
Still, you creep towards me again, perhaps asking to be a ‘link’ on LinkedIn purely accidentally, just did an email search, didn’t trim, and here you are, intruding in a life so pleasantly absent of at least *this* part of my past again.
It must be an accident. It must be a mistake. I know you, have studied you, so that I don’t become you – and you have so little knowledge of me.
Still, I want to succumb, to answer, to ask – why? Why for everything and I know you have the same questions. I know you try, that you are, without question, a person who tries to be good, and in many ways you have succeeded.
We can never meet as equals. I see in you what I detest in me – and that is my fight, to become so much more, because I am. Your own mother, my grandmother, was my guide, my solace, my inspiration – and in a few ways, so was your brother, anchored to nothing yet filled with love. Could you even see that? Or did you only judge him because he didn’t live the golden life?
One of these days I’m going to buy your fucking house, make certain that no McMansion goes up, and yes, invite my friends over – because they are the most beautiful people, far beyond what I ever imagined being in my life – and when that time comes, when you need assistance, I will be there for you – because I am not, nor will I ever be, you. I have learned from experience that you cannot imagine the value of love, of sacrifice, of acceptance; it wasn’t from you, it wasn’t from ‘my’ sister Katherine, but that will not stop me from being for you as much as I can when you need it… and I miss the sound of the seals at night. It was a home once.