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Himself has gone out to the backyard of his grandparent’s house to light a huge pile of leaves on fire.
huge. pile. of bone dry. leaves. The man is in heaven…he also is sporting a relatively heavy Texan accent. It’s amusing.
I’ve spent the last few days amongst people who remind me very much of my own family, only Republican and in a scaled down version. They truly love being with each other and they are happiest when they are playing and eating and, well, burning huge piles of leaves together.
I have always struggled with the aspect of family in relationships. Ask anyone who knows me, my relationship with my family is an incredibly close one. I tell them everything, generally I want to be with them than with anyone else. I am fiercely loyal to them and can tell you in detail about almost all of my 35 cousins. I am especially close with my mother, father, and sister, they are like the gatekeepers of my life, to be close to me, you must also be close to them and to not get close to them wreaks havoc on our relationship (mine and the partner who isn’t communing with my wacky immediate family) I have never been able to adequately express how important it is to me that my partner be close with my family.
My ex-husband struggled with this. He was not as close with his family and I think my closeness with mine intimidated him. Darling N was close to my family, but we were together for short a time that she never had a chance to fully integrate herself into our group. All of my other partners have either shut them out completely, or haven’t been around long enough.
Strangely enough the few people who have fit seamlessly into my family unit I had never been romantically involved with. Lady J, who can call my mother “Momma” (the only person to successfully attempt this trick), J Beauty who my sister always asks about, Just (my best friend of 16 years) who my mother offered to fly to Canada to keep him from getting shipped to Iraq, who has been at almost every major family event the run of his life, Beloved S who spent time with me during my “Nana Duty” before La Reina died, watching movies with us…
and Himself.
Before we started dating, Himself and I had been friends for almost 6 years. He came around every now and then, fixed my mother’s computer, talked wine and travel with my father, gave my sister a hard time. As we moved (relatively seamlessly) into the romantic aspect of our lives together, he fit so well into the family group that it was like he had always been there. He is the only peer of mine to date that can tease my mother like me and my sister. He can talk with my father for hours. My aunties and cousins who have met him send their love to him when they talk to me. Several members of my family have his cell phone number (something that didn’t happen with my ex until after we were married).
I realized on this trip, that the reason he fit so easily into my family is because thats whats important to him. Watching him call his grandfather “council” (like my Grandfather called my mother) or tease his sister, wrestle with his little cousins, and offer to clean up his grandparents yard, I realized this man is the partner who will get the relationship I have with my family. More so than some because he knows how I feel being seperated from some of my family be state lines. He misses his little family all year round and seems so at ease around them, people who have known him for years in Arizona would barely recognize him.
I was apprehensive about this trip because of my difficulty meeting new people, because this family is so devoutly Christian, and so hard line Republican. I am my politics and my liberalism is as natural to me as breathing. I was delighted to find that this family is friendly and loving and easygoing…and if I steer clear of the political conversations I’m home free!
This entry is turning out to be more about my relationship (which I intentionally try not to discuss publically these days) and less about the beautiful weather, delicious food and interesting people I’ve met this Thanksgiving…so I guess I’ll get into the later.
Meanwhile, I’m thankful that I have finally found the mental clarity and stability, happiness and stillness that I have been looking for. I’m thankful that even though we have lost the matriarchs of our families my huge crazy patwork families have managed to hold each other together and love each other all the more. I’m thankful that I have my darling friends, who love me even if I am crazy and difficult and flaky sometimes. I’m thankful that one of those darling friends, who has stood by me through ups and downs the last 6 years, waiting patiently for me to realize how perfect we are for one another, understands my craziness and my dedication to my family, my struggle to adapt to new situations and to make the best of stressful ones, that he is forever curious, because it’s his best trait.
I am thankful that I’ve finally realized that my life is just that: Mine. and even though sometimes other people’s drama overwhlems me, and sometimes I’m hurt by what they choose. And sometimes I lose contact with them. And sometimes our relationships change. My life remains totally in my control. and I can do anything.
and it’s a joyful thing.
an hour ago my mother handed me a piece of paper.
On it, in a familiar hand, that I hadn’t seen in a while was a prayer in Spanish.
It was the prayer my Nana said over me the day I turned 15.
I grew up in a household divided. My mother being fiercely Mexican and my father looking so very white. I inherited my fathers skin tone and my mothers eyes. I learned how to make tortillas and menudo when I was 10. I understood Spanish from childhood. My mothers cousins children called my “El Casper”…
When I was 14 my parents asked if I wanted to have a Quinceanera. I decided that it was something I wanted and we planned a day that mixed Mexican tradition with my feminist upbringing. My grandmother and my Nana said prayers over me both invoking the Virgin. It was a great party. 
4 years ago my Nana had a severe stroke that left her unable to communicate, unable to write, it limited her movement and she wasn’t able to stay by herself. Every Firday night (when I wasn’t doing a show) for 3 years from 5:30 until 9:30 I was at her house, making her dinner talking with her in her limited vocabulary, watching romantic comedies with her.
She died in April. I was in her kitchen. She looked at the statue of La Virgen as she stopped breathing.
I sat here this afternoon weeping as I read the prayer that she wrote for me. A prayer about family and faith. She ended it the way Catholics have done for centuries “en el nombre del padre, del hijo y del espiritu santo…” but then she took my face in her hands and said “y que la virgen maria te acompane siempre…Amen”
I don’t miss being a Catholic. I miss my Nana so tangibly that it is hard to breathe sometimes. But today something transcended those feelings….
I wish I had words for it. But it’s been a bit of a mixed bag today. I’ll let you know when I figure it out…
There are several people who will often show up in this blog, some due to the frequency with which I see them, some because we have history, some because they are simply a part of who I am…one because, well. it’s me.
Meg – this is, of course, myself
Himself – this is my fiancee, best friend and father of my son
The Midget – my son, due April 18th
Momma – my mother
Da – my father
Zil – my sister
Lady J – one of a group of 3 women who are my dearest friends, she is in grad school very faraway
J Beauty – another member of that group, she is the adventurous type and has lived everywhere from the Grand Canyon to LA
Beloved S – the third member of the group, my consience oftentimes…
Just – my oldest friend, he is currently serving in Iraq
SisterJ – my soon to be sister in law, she is in Texas and reminds me of my own sister
Mister Ex – my ex-husband
now you know our key characters and can play along with the home game!
