A Low "Ha!"

I haven't written much - or, really, at all - about the incredible two week vacation that the Awesome Fiance and I took this summer.  We've been back for over a month now so it's probably time to revisit it.

I could write about the travel experience itself but the airline (I'll call it "Untied") would probably put me on the "no-fly" list after reading my tirade.  I'd have to create new, more descriptive words beyond "dunder-headed ass clown" and "inept corporate maggot" ... and I'm just not feeling all that creative today.

I could write about this being the ONLY time in my life I've actually taken two whole weeks from work for vacation.  Yes, I had a sabbatical, which was 6 weeks, but in all the 29 years I've been employed, I've never taken two solid weeks of vacation.

I could write about the food ... OH.  MY.  LORD.  THE.  FOOD. ... but that'll probably just make me hungry and I probably wouldn't be able to describe some of the dishes to the level of deliciousness they deserve.

I think I'll write about my overall take-away from the first portion of our two weeks.  The "Family" portion.

Ya' know that family you see on occasion when traveling?  Grandparents, grown children, grandkids ... dining together, smiling and laughing, posing for goofy photos, etc?  The clan that piles out from the minivan and walks into the mall, maybe wearing similar teeshirts ... or the multi-generational gathering on the beach - a few are reading, some are splashing about in the water, the youngest members are creating elaborate piles of sand?  Well, I was part of that family as a child.  My best friend really did have the perfect family and I spent countless hours as an extended, adopted family member.  Oh, they were SO much better than my real family.

Dad was a teacher, an avid weekend golfer, and liked to take rides on his motorcycle.  Mom, also a teacher, liked to go on walks, spend time with her family, and be outdoors.  Son - the youngest member of the family - was into all things bicycle.  Daughter - my best friend - was everything I wasn't ... graceful, very pretty, delicate.  They'd include me on short weekend getaways and I'd see a family who REALLY enjoyed being together.  Parents who had conversations about news and politics and things that didn't involve work or animals or relatives.  Children who played nicely together and went to the movies together - not because they were told to but because they wanted to.  For me, it was surreal.

It was also fake.

I know now that my seemingly perfect adopted family ... was not.  Dad, it seemed, waited until the children were grown and on their own, and then got on his motorcycle and rode away.  Mom developed an eating disorder and handled her divorce as 'tho everything was fine when, clearly, it was not.  Little brother got married *WAY* too young but to a wonderful woman who nursed him back to health for a year after a very nearly deadly motocross accident.  And best friend, who had aspirations on being a psychologist, instead became a grumpy, gloomy, unhappy stay-at home mom who shielded her own small children from their "awful" Grandfather ... even as she herself continued the cycle of cheating on - and eventually leaving - her own spouse.  I stopped being a part of her life after her second child.  We just didn't have anything in common anymore and I got tired of trying to set up the lunch date that clearly was never to be.  We had a mutual friend who kept me updated on her activities and, last I heard, her two oldest children asked to move in with their father because they were tired of being told how awful both he AND their own Grandfather was.

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So while, as a child, I had my seemingly perfect family and my real one, as an adult I knew that my real one was so much better than "perfect".  It was flawed, but flawed in a way I understood.  The members (myself most assuredly included) were maddening, but in a comfortable way.  We have family logic for the things we do - twisted as it is but it is, at least, logic of some sort.  And, as the airplane drifted towards our family getaway home for the week, I thought that I was ready for the quirks and actions and whatnot that were likely to come ... flaws and maddening members and twisted logic and all.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh I was mistaken.

It's an exaggeration, to be sure, that I spent the WHOLE week closing screens, sliding glass doors, turning off lights, turning on ceiling fans, drawing drapes, turning on the air conditioner, and locking front doors.  It's an exaggeration, certainly, that the week was spent washing the same dishes, clearing the same table, drying the same glasses, closing the same freezer doors, and wiping the same counter-top surface.  It's an exaggeration, yes, that my island time was filled with folding towels and doing laundry and explaining how air conditioning works and sharing that, while I was sorry the upstairs was 76 degrees (aka "super cold") in the mornings, our bedroom was still at 87 degrees at 11pm the night before because no one could be bothered to close a door or shut a window to keep the air temperature at a reasonable number - say, somewhere slightly lower than 80.

It did FEEL like the whole week was like that, but I know it wasn't.

"But remember", you say calmly.  "Remember that you were sharing the house with young children and you're not used to young children."

"And that's very true", I reply just as calmly.  "But what makes you think I was talking about the young children?"

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Ahhhhhhhhhhh but they are my people.  They are my family.  Are they perfect?  Ha!  No.  Thank heavens no, they are not perfect.