From my spot in the kitchen I can hear my mom in the living room giggle and, “Felim would you stop it!” I enter the room and see my dad lying, dead weight, right on top of my mom. This has happened multiple times.
One day in the beginning of my senior year of high school my parents took me to accepted students day at the University of Scranton. We got a room in this beautiful old hotel and were walking to find a place to get dinner. Dad and me were a few feet in front of mom when suddenly we heard a slight, deadweight thud behind us. We turned just in time to catch the last second before my moms face smacked against the concrete sidewalk. After helping her up and settling her down on a nearby bench, Dad turned into superman. He sprinted the blocks back to the hotel, got the car and took us back there. Once we were there he catered to her every need. The evening ended after a search for first aid kits and settling down with McDonald’s in bed while watching TV, making up for the dinner we never had.
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You wouldn’t know it from the look of her face, but Jennifer is one real tough cookie. Did you know she used to be quite the gymnast? Arthritis took that beautiful skill from her. I remember the summer she had to roll around on a scooter-looking machine with a boot on her leg. She had just had surgery on her leg to help the pain in her bones from the arthritis. That didn’t stop her from visiting her mom and sister in Minnesota. I always laugh, imagining the three of them. My grandma with a walker, aunt Catherine with her white cane, and mom with the scooter, people must have been so confused.
Around 3rd grade I was laying on the couch in my living room, watching TV. My brother stopped at the top of the stairs that lined up directly with the couch, preparing something. He began to sprint his way down the stairs, slamming his feet into each plank of wood, straight towards me. I lifted my blanket over my face and braced myself. His body flung right into mine, strong and much bigger, 7 years older and though it doesn’t look it now, the age difference was obvious then. “MOM!!” I screeched, muffled under his dead weight, followed by mom yelling at Patrick for the incident of the day. My dad and brother did almost identical things to my mom and I for the soul purpose of annoyance. The apple certainly does not fall to far from the tree.
Mom and Dad met when they were in high school. They went to different schools but had mutual friends. “Your mom wanted me, I was a ladies man.” Dad always tries to convince me. Mom says that he always wanted to be with her but that she was hard to convince. They first met at a dance at my Dad’s high school during sophomore year. All the other girls told my mom to stay away from my dad, “Felim’s mean to us!” Not even slightly surprising. Felim loves to do all he can to bother Jennifer…and Patrick…and Caroline…and everyone he ever knows. Later at the dance dad and his friends ended up getting kicked out for wrecking the bathroom. Quite the first impression, but eventually mom agreed to date him anyway. Most people that meet my dad say he is one of the funniest people they know. Being with him as long as my mom has, she has come to take every action with some patience and maybe an occasional earplug.
Though I don’t come from the same tree, people say that I look just like my family. They don’t realize that I get none of my genes from them. “Oh, I knew you must be Jennifer’s daughter!” These are the same people that have the famous line; “I haven’t seen you since you were this tall.” They say it as if I’m supposed to remember meeting them when I was that little. I smile and nod, same reaction as to the first phrase. On Christmas in 8th grade I sat, with all my dead weight, on top of my cousin Owen on my living room chair, for the soul purpose of annoying him. This apple must have come from that same tree after all.
