The sun was warm, the company good, the wine perfectly sweet. Soaking up family … both my own, and my own. Where I come from, and what we’re creating. Heritage, progeny. Talk of family trees and ancestors, mixed with the barefoot patter of my boys as they hunted for eggs.
The blending of my history, and how it feeds into theirs, is a murky puzzle at best. Certain traits leap out, of course, but others are a mystery. How did he get caught between introvert and extrovert? They’re mine, but not mine. They are of me, but Other. They’re paper thin, but their translucence is fading so fast. I say I know what they’re thinking, but the truth is I can’t really, at least not all the time. It’s getting harder.
They hide behind each other sometimes, or under the familiar blanket of “I forgot”. I’m forgetting too, the more the memories pile up, the harder they have to shine for me to put my finger on them. Some of them buried under guilt and regret, but more often just obscured by the shavings of everyday wear and tear dusting my mind.
I look for the moment when I’m behind the camera, searching for that perfectly focused spot that leaves everything else blending into obscurity. Beautiful in its blurry softness. Moments I need to capture in my heart, not just in the viewfinder. I’m still chewing on 10, but in a good way. Not only does teenagerhood approach, but other changes are starting to have a little heat applied to them, in a good and am-I-really-ready-for-change?! kind of way. We’ve talked about moving for years, and it seems that things are starting to line up to make it reality. I’m only peeking around the corner right now, but the view is equally beautiful and terrifying. The ship’s getting harder to steer with the addition of opinionated and not-so-small passengers, but the cumulative heart and energy are turning into something recognizable as My Family, and I’m loving it.