It's Christmas Eve which also means that it's the anniversary of my birth. I'm now 23, which is pretty solidly in the realm of what most people would consider to be "adult." To me it feels... prime. By "prime" I mean completely indivisible by anything rational, e.g. "I am living the prime of my life, nothing appears to make much sense, but maybe a really nifty interpretation of the randomness can garner some sort of symmetry." You know?
The first birthday I've spent away from home has been filled with mate-drinking, Andean Fox wood carvings, and sentimental e-mails from my faraway family. I've never so tangibly felt distance like I feel the hemisphere between myself and home. I mean, I don't know explicitly what "home" is at this point but tears pricked my eyes here in the hotel lobby as I thought of things like evergreens, guitar-strumming, my parents, my brother, cinnamon rolls, and a steady Oregon downpour.
This feels real, though. The wind is gusting as per usual and the clouds are really outdoing themselves. The towers are spearing the sky, I'm surrounded by wonderful people (my fellow volunteers gave me a ruler of intangible things as a birthday present), and I know that the void of the things I miss is a sort of fullness because it means I've lived beauty.
And thus another arbitrary ritualistic flag has been waved. I'm far from home but I'm still reaching; forging my identity around fleeting semaphores like "birthday," "family," and "prime."
Dear Caitlin,
ReplyDeleteI don't know your current email address, so I self consciously write this on your blog for everyone to see.
It is still your birthday, at least it is in Pacific Standard Time. I suppose you are sleeping in your tent. Howard and I just left Mom's new place. Fran and Mom were settled down in the living room watching Jerry McGuire starring Tom Cruise and Renee Zellweger. Howard, Mom and I had a wonderful split pea soup that Howard made. Fran made a scrumptious pumpkin pie with whipping cream slathered on top. Maybe I shouldn't tell you this. Fran said you were not getting enough to eat. Does writing about food make you more hungry? I'm sorry that I can't transport some of it to you and your friends. (Tomorrow Howard is cooking prime rib, mashed potatoes, asparagus and salad. We'll also have marion berry pie and left over pumpkin pie.) Sorry again. (Cinnamon rolls for breakfast compliments of you know who.) Oh so sorry.
Howard opened his birthday presents - much needed socks - of course. He turned SEVENTY last Monday. I couldn't help but wish you were with us for the usual joint opening of birthday gifts.
Merry 23! The Christmas you were born was the best ever. You were the cutest little swaddled sweetheart there ever was. Who cared about gifts when you were coming home from the hospital? I remember in the following months, I would be sitting at my drafting board, feeling stressed and bored all at the same time. My tonic? I'd call Fran to see if I could come over in the evening to hold you. Now that gave me meaning and purpose.
It is very still here. Damp but not raining. I managed to put up a few decorations. Erik gave us a little Charlie Brown tree that I've decorated twice. The kitties seem to think it is one big toy put in our living room just for them. This is the first tree I've had since I left home at 17. I kinda like it. We have a few more lights amidst various decorations to liven up the long nights. The kitties are playing with their mice. Howard is reading from his new, birthday Kindle (the big one). And I am thinking about the birthday girl. Happy Birthday and Ho Ho Ho.
Love,
Aunt Kathy
Dear Caitlin
ReplyDeleteMany happenings for me in the past month. I am now living in a high rise adult highrise. Getting used to alot of older people around and beginning to make friends. Unfortunately have developed a carpel tunnel. My right thumb and forefinger are almost useless and considerably painful. Probable be having surgery in a couple of weeks. I guess the left hand will have to take over for a while. Poor me. Just getting back to normal from hip replacement. Enjoy your prime because old age isn't much fub. Happy 23 and happy Christmas. Love Grandma LuRee.