Not too many families are neat. Webs and ties, some loved, some unloved, splinters and fractures fix and unfix; A thousand reasons appear to unite and divide. From the line down to me I’ve been lucky. In the line from me down, not so or not yet.
She’s nervous as we drive to her brother’s. He has a wife and two children in St Petersburg. She recounts last time they met close to ten years ago, wonders if old opinions will stand or be changed. She wonders how deserved those opinions might be, she was different back then, as we’d all hope to be.
Few points in this trip had been fixed, this was one and is hers. It’s a personal thing for me to be part of; not sure of my role in whatever roles out, need to give space, allow to catch up, vent tensions or worse.
It’s only partially my business, my partner’s family. I’m sure she doesn’t want me to take too much on as I don’t want her to take mine. But our roles of support mean we take on as much as effects the other so that we might better help, give comfort or guide. Seems a fair bare minimum to me anyhow, enough to let us do our jobs.
So while space was given and catch ups played out, I watched a brother and sister get closer. Rough moved to smooth, conversation got quicker, I got snapshots of my girl as a child and heard stories good bad and ugly.
Where my thoughts were not wanted or needed, I played with children, looked up places to go, reflected on messes that get made and unmade.
From the line down to me I’ve been lucky. In the line from me down, not so or not yet. I wondered what counts as regret. I wrote nights in a row ’til I slept (see below).
Rats on the Run 