The house by Salmon Creek has been quiet now for 24 hours, the last of the family members roaring off yesterday, going back to their lives in the world ... away from the roar of ocean and the calling of the geese. I think they were happy to go in the end: the coziness and close-up challenges were getting to each and everyone of us: children trying to find entertainment, or to create new ways of being entertained, and their parents beginning to think about the business of their lives that lay ahead. I wasn't looking ahead exactly, but rather just looking to the space (iousness) that would follow their leaving, telling myself that this would be refreshing rather than sad.
We were all here for a week together, and we endured frequent adverse conditions: bone chilling cold and rain -- and we played games, cooked, knitted, listened to music, walked the dogs, dried off the dogs, ate, drank, played more games, drew pictures, built Lego cities, tended the ever-present fire, went kayaking, took pictures, walked on the beach, climbed the dunes, played more games, swept the floor, made cappuccinos, identified birds in the creek .... and so on. I tried to read one of my many books on Venice, in preparation for going there in a couple of weeks, but concentration was tough, and late at night, when everyone had finally fallen asleep, my mind too wanted rest, not reading. When our numbers were reduced to six, there was more room to breathe, but I felt a longing sadness that the entire family was not happily together. Whether we can really do that is a good question. Young grandchildren are growing into women with their own particular interests that have little to do with family, the youngest grandchildren are mostly on the edge between cozy cuddling beings and individuals with strong wills being pulled always outward... So that "Little Women" idealization of family is but a fleeting phenomenon, if it exists at all. The members grow up and away, like branches on a magnificent tree.
I am often confused about where I want to be in this mix of people, and how I want them to see me. Of course, they will see me however they choose, so there again is another reminder of letting go.
I was very aware during our wonderful time together of pulling back into myself so as not to issue directives or reprimands or try to control the flow. So, there I was: in the center of this wheel of energy, and watching myself at the same time in this semi-invisible position. Sometimes I actually felt unseen. That felt both uncomfortable and frequently simply normal....
How much love do we need from those close to us? And how do we deal with this need which bubbles up at the most unpredictable times?
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