I've always thought highly of the notion of roots and wings. I felt firmly rooted in my childhood. I had parents who were in love, often to my chagrin. I had a sister who irritated me, but looked up to me, too. I had grandparents that I actually adored and spent as much time with as possible. Once, a cousin of mine smirked disdainfully about my "Leave it to Beaver" family, and I was highly offended that he so easily placed us in that category of deadly-normal. Normal was boring. Normal was insignificant; unnoticable. I yearned for some small degree of dysfunction to strike us and add excitement to our lives.
My life mapped itself out on the back of my eyelids as I slept away my youth. My wings spread, but not too far or wide. I was wholly predictible. I attended college. I got married. I started a career. I had babies. I stayed home to raise those babies. Roots and wings took on new meaning for me once I was the mama.
Tonight my granny uprooted me. She called me on the phone. Long distance. On a landline. From southeastern Oklahoma. She'd heard on the news that there was a tornado in my town. Turns out, it was about five miles from my house. I had no idea there was a tornado in my town until Granny called me. Long distance. On a landline. From southeastern Oklahoma. The tornado turned out to be insignficant. My husband and I wondered how the hell it made the news in southeastern Oklahoma.
But I was uprooted all the same, tornado or no tornado.
Granny told me she doesn't want me to come to her house for our visit this weekend. It's been over a year since I've made it to southeastern Oklahoma to see her and Pa Pa; longer still since my kids and husband went to visit. As she tried to explain her reasons to me on the phone--on her dime, no less--all I could think of was that this is the second time she's done this to me. Grandmothers do not tell their grandchildren to stay away. They do not say, "Don't come!" with a hand extended in a warning gesture to "Stop!" That's all I could see in my head.
And just like that, twisted, tangled, uprooted.
Showing posts with label extended family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label extended family. Show all posts
Sunday, August 24, 2008
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