I saw an old photograph the other day. I found it –
It is the simple laws of attraction. What am I attracted to? Or, would we say why?
How did my life take on this kind of shape?
It’s a question I wondered after seeing this photograph.
And here it is, November . . .
Families are about to sit down at a table – soon enough and to give thanks for Thanksgiving.
I can say that we take far too much for granted. I can tell you that beware of time. Be mindful of your loved ones. Be aware that nothing is ever guaranteed. And more, be aware of the hugs we take for granted or the moments that we seem to think are trivial or unimportant. I mention this because ah, those are the moments that will come to mind.
The simple times.
The little memories that come up when we think of the people in our family and what took place. They walk through the door (and hug you).
Just a simple hug. These things are meaningful and beyond measure.
I know this now.
I love the way autumn would change the face of my town. I loved the simple grayness of the sky and how the slight mist of an evening would give an overcast chill to a late November day – and wait, there’s more, like the fallen leaves would blow down the street. The air would have a chill enough to rush past my body and let me know that winter was on its way and that was fine with me.
I never thought much about our family gatherings. I never paid attention to the preparation and all that took place before my family would arrive and walk through the door.
The house smelled from food. The tables were all arranged and sure, there was the kid’s table.
Of course there was, I sat there for years!
I suppose this could be why people say that youth is wasted on the young.
I suppose that youth assumes there will always be a plethora of “tomorrows” and the future is nothing to be concerned with. Of course this is true – to someone who is young.
But ah – that table. My family.
The food. My cousins. The fact that every year something breaks or something spills and someone always says, “It ain’t a party until something spills or breaks.”
There was a tradition which was started by my Aunt Sondra –
The tradition is to go around the table and tell everyone what we were thankful for.
Of course, I thought this was sappy. I thought this was cheesy yet I remember this now with warmth and love.
I miss this more than my words can say.
I remember the faces around the room and the love that came from them. I remember the feel of their hugs and the joy of their laughter.
I can say that while my youth had its share of heartaches and hardships; still, there were moments like this.
You need these things. You need these memories to cloak you in otherwise cold times or moments of loneliness.
You need these little memories to add color to your life – to let you know that hey, it wasn’t so bad . . .
There were times when nothing was so terrible.
There were times when I laughed at the stupid little jokes that went around the table. There were times when I looked around at my family without any distance nor anything that wedged between us.
This was a moment of true happiness.
However, in truth –
I don’t think I knew how valuable this was, at least not back then.
I don’t think I knew the value of time or the true meaning of how valuable a smile could be
until it was absent from the table.
Age happens and time moves on.
People age and sadly, people pass away.
This is true.
But what’s also true is there are no times like these.
There are no memories like those from our youth or from back when we were able to sit with the people we love and eat a huge meal.
I laugh too because I think of the stories that I used to hear around the table. And I smile about this with a loving regard.
I think about the stories of family events which took place before I was born. Man, do I wish I was a fly on the wall back then. I wish I could have seen this.
I wish I could have seen The Old Man before he was The Old Man.
I wish I could have seen Mom when she was young – or my Uncle Alan or my Grandmother “Grandma Lena or that I could have met my Grandfather, Grandpa Ben. I wish I could have met the young version of my Aunt Sondra or Stanley – fucking Stanley.
He was crazy but at the same time, he was the absolute coolest cousin and member of my family. Amongst others, of course, which makes this unfair to say any names because, in fairness, I do not want to name some and leave out anyone else – but hey, this is all a stream of consciousness prose – it’s from the heart . . . and that’s all that matters. And all else, well you already know that I love you (some, I just have to love from a distance).
I know that the holidays are around the corner.
I have made choices over the years which have otherwise distanced myself from certain people.
This was a choice. I grant that.
Some choices are hard but necessary. So either way –
The person I want to be now is an honest one and yes, honestly, before the drama, there were times so great and so amazing that it is enough to warm my heart. It’s good that there’s moments like this. It’s good that I can look back and see how I have grown. It’s good to reminisce and think about the times that something broke or something spilled.
It ain’t a party until something breaks or spills.
Right?
Things break. We spill things all the time . . .
Don’t we?
Wouldn’t it be nice to share that same sentiment in other areas of our life?
Wouldn’t it be good to simply write off the excess bullshit of trivial little problems – to put them into perspective – to realize how valuable our time is – to spend more time together and value the moment over the bullshit – and to pay attention to how valuable we are to one another.
Oh and hey Mom –
I made your mashed potatoes the other day. I think you would have liked them.
I made extra and I do mean EXTRA. I am only allowed to share them from now on with people who I value most.
(So – this is why I made them.)
I wish you could see some of what your baby boy has done.
Then again, there are things that I hope you didn’t see.
But anyway . . .
I have to go now, Mom.
I have new memories to create and a new form of happiness to unwrap.
Tell Aunt Sandra that I wish I could make a brisket like hers . . .
Or the short ribs . . .
But let her know –
I’m trying
As best as I can.
Love always
Your son,
B –
The Written Addiction 