It’s here. The vacation in the Adirondack mountains. My brother is probably on a jet plane as we speak, flying into Philadelphia, en route to my sister’s abode. There they will drink lots of wine, and be merry. They will speak of me as if I am Taboo, and shake their collective heads at my crazy ass self.
She was supposed to be on this vacation, they will say. What happened to her? They will ask. What could we have done differently? What went so horribly wrong?
My brother and I, we are still intact. But the C-word has her lonesome grip on him, and I understand, more than he will ever know, because my mother had that same vice like hold. Until he left for California, Berkley and the rest of his life. I have followed him like a child, lost in the certainty that we were family. It began in High School. He joined the crew team, I later joined as a coxswain. He got a job as a bus boy at Victoria Station, I began as a hostess and then bus girl. He went to Houlihan’s, I went after him. But I was chasing a dream, and the love I had for him was unrequited until very, very recently. I have him back in my sites now, but it is a temporary, lonesome road. I know he will be under her spell for the next week or so, and he is lost to me for the time being. Why do I care? Because he, along with his daughter, are the only family I have left.
But who says that family must be blood? I have a tribe full of love, acceptance and validation. They are there, and I mean there for me when I stumble, when I crack under the pressure of ghosts who linger-but there is no time to waste, no time for tears. Life is so very precious, and I will settle for crumbs no longer. I will always love him, but can I afford him? Time will tell.
“No regrets Coyote, you just picked up a hitcher, a prisoner of the white lines on the freeway.” – Joni Mitchell