I Started My Book!
Well, after decades of procrastination I finally, officially, began. To say "procrastination" is not exactly fair, or accurate, as everything has its time, and this book's time wasn't then, it is now. I'll be sharing bits and pieces, just because. This is, perhaps, where I will begin. We'll see...
We waited anxiously at the window for his arrival. It had been nearly 30 years since he and I had seen each other and none of us knew what to expect. He sent a text letting us know that he was close, and in those last pregnant moments, as I watched the kids’ faces pressed expectantly on the glass, I was surprised at how excited they were to meet their uncle for the very first time.
I’d always been honest with them about my past, about what I’d experienced in that house with my family, about why I left. And in my honesty, I had tried to project a certain strength, an independence that I wanted to define me, and therefore them. They didn’t have uncles and cousins and a gramma and grampa like other people did because we were breaking the cycle. We were doing things differently than the generations before us. We were getting it right. They were safe and loved and valued in a way that I never was, and therefore, we were better off without them.
But watching my children there, in uncharacteristic anticipation of this man they had never met, I was made aware that my intentions of creating independence had not been completely successful. I saw in their expressions that their shared bloodline held some sort of sticky power that was bigger than the version of reality I had so painstakingly transferred to them. In that moment it became obvious to me that all these years they felt a hole where family should be, whether they knew it consciously or not, and with that breach of sovereignty I was humbled. Suddenly, as is always with love, I was vulnerable.