The Chil'un

I take my family for granted. Not my husband and children but my first family -- the people I started life with. My mother and father are gone now so it’s just my two brothers, my sister and me. I’ve lived my life hopefully learning and evolving, not really thinking about my siblings’ own journeys. These people have beautiful souls and sharp, insightful minds. There is artistry in all of us that we express in different ways -- through music, writing, an appreciation of the natural world and an ability to recognize the extraordinary in the mundane. We find humor in any circumstance. We inherited these traits from our parents but I’m just now figuring this out. My father was a romantic and my mother was actually quite artistic. Her life may not have been so tragic if she had not set such high standards for herself. Failing at realization, she retreated from us and the world.

We’re late middle-age now and at our best. Our treks have been different but we’ve arrived at this place where we recognize in each other our individual selves. My older brother recently had a heart attack and subsequent bypass surgery. When I asked him what the heart attack felt like, I arrogantly thought I knew the answer. “Was it a pressure in your chest? Did you have pain radiating to your jaw or arm?” Propped in the hospital bed he shook his head and tapped his chest just to the left of the incision peeking from the top of the hospital gown. “No, I didn’t have any of that.” Continuing to tap his chest over his heart he said, “It only hurt right here … a heartache.” There’s a poet in all of us.

And they'll say,
"Told you so.
We were the ones
who saw you first of all."
--James Blunt