Whirlwind Visits

We are funny creatures. In a phone call finalizing plans for a family visit, my sister-mom said to me " Kar wanted me to be sure and tell you she got fat. She didn't want you shocked when you saw her..." Who of us hasn't gotten fat since the last time we all saw each other? But that isn't what makes us funny. When I did see her, I saw the same girl I grew up with. The younger sister-niece. I remember a trip to Cal Expo when we were little kids. Kar was sitting on the edge of a fountain looking off into the distance. She was about 4 or 5, so tiny and sweet you wanted to hug her all the time. She had this head full of curls to her shoulders. On that day, she was sitting so still on that concrete edge, big blue eyes dancing in her little face, the sun glistening and sparkling in her amazing hair like a halo of stars. Even at 9, I remember losing my breath at the sight of her. Sister-Mom was standing beside me and also watching her. She says "Well, I guess I really did get that girl's hair clean." Isn't that just like a hairdresser! Kar was always a sweet, nice girl. I wish I would have been a better sister to her. Now she is a bright, articulate, sweet, strong woman.

I've been so long away from my family, I forget how much we are alike. In our book preferances, morals and standards. I miss them, I miss having a spot in the family line-up. I miss having a crowd around that talks about the same things I'm interested in. It's not that I feel out of place. I'm a bit of chameleon and can fit almost anywhere. But there really is "no place like home". In my case, "home" is always people. I would like to be closer to Oregon, to watch Lindsay starting college and getting ready to be a teacher. To see Zach finishing up High School and turning into a man. I wish I was next door to California so I could spend some real time with Haley and Tyler. Have lunch with sister-mom, debate with Ben. But I want my kids and husband there too. We're a strange family, since the depression, we just can't seem to stay together. Spread across the United States like dandelion fluff, we've learned to plant roots, but never in the same field.