Dazed, exhausted, frustrated with global happenings and maybe in need of another coffee buzz (in other words basically being a human being) (or being one of the many minions moving during the disastrously busy moving day that is BOSTON moving day), my extremely introverted self longed for some form of isolation to separate from the absurdity around me and induce more of a dream state of mind via solitude. I had no idea how much of a euphoric cloud into which I would fall simply upon greeting the embrace of my family who were finally in close proximity to me after many a month.
A show (without secret, Grey's Anatomy), which I quickly fell in love with, revolved much around two characters who's relationship is somewhat defined by their co-nominated titles as each other's "persons" (Shonda Rhimes). The term just as quickly lodged itself in the back of my brain as a profound, yet simple term to describe a very special being, one you hold very close. As I have aged, I think I have found my own term.
As I have aged, I have grown to resent the societal use of the term "family" and it's over-generality as a definition for those "closest to you", if only simply because they are those tied to you by blood. For the better part of my young life, certain factors have barred me from not only conceptualizing the idea of me fitting into, but also in some instances the actuality of my being pushed out of, any form of the traditional family. Other than my wonderful mother, who lovingly raised me as a single mom for the majority of my life, I have basically built my own conceptions of family from the ground up. The "traditional family" has never worked for me, in any sense of the term, and it never will. These people that paid me the visit I originally begged not to have, are not just family. As Shonda might put it, they are MY persons (Rhimes). They surprised me with a visit last week that I did not ask for. I pleaded to have them save themselves the trouble. They demanded to ache their backs for me.
In my own conception, they are my stars. When we are many miles away from ourselves, I envision they continue to sparkle. When we long for a familiar embrace that continues to hold long after they have gone, I envision their light endures millions of miles away to breathe possibility into me from afar. When we have spent all the time we can give in one setting, I feel their presence still shines in my heart even though the time for that moment for us to spend has long passed. When one of us cries into the collective mourning of the world, the other gently twinkles a sheen of hope for a new moon, a new glean in the next day. I think to myself, if this is the magic they give me across borders, imagine the galaxy of strength of my stars, my family, blood and not, when they are physically near.
I did not want my star to drag herself here after the physically demanding work she already endures, with her sore body, to help her daughter move a bed frame across this city. I worried for her health, and her deserving of a real holiday. And yet, she brought her twinkle to my new home, just to kiss it with the memories and embracing love of our own.
I did not want to bring my star into the exhaustion of my world as well, herself already spent by her own draining occupation.
I did not want my star to worry across the country after her star whilst she already has her own stresses.
I resented my stars exhausting themselves for me. Ultimately, I remembered what my heart already knew in some far off corner of its complex beating abode: we need each other. We cannot do this alone, and even if we can, we shouldn't have to.
Do you know the relief I felt, my blue star, when I collapsed to the floor in front of your presence when I realized you were finally in the same city as I again? How grateful I was to have you in my sight once again to deplete the worry I felt for you all those miles away in foreign lands I don't yet know?
Do you know how much more I could breathe, my orange star, after simply feeling your hand run through my hair after a long day's move, feel you hold me tight like I used to squeeze up to you to fall asleep as a little girl? How long I had longed to squeeze your paint-encrusted and bejeweled hand in mine for hours on end?
Can you even dream, my purple star, how carefully and comfortingly you hold my mind, though you are back down south in the land we both grew? How I long to feel your gaze up close again, but yet am still comforted by your voice from afar?
Do you even know, my silver star, the gentle caress your loving eyes gave to me without question, no matter the strength you lent to get through the day? Are you aware of the shiver you give me that both awakens the old smile, while also calming my entirety with your soft brown eyes?
My family is across the country in dry, mountainous cities I have not yet had the pleasure of visiting, and in humid homes and campuses I know all too well. My family is in the East Cobb suburbs bent over their studies, and in nursing school in the southern city I still call my home. My family is across the water in the country I hold a second citizenship to, not yet fully discovered, and my family is just a bus ride away in the city that shakes me beautifully to my core with its northern insomnia. My family is tweaking their already honed medical expertise in the land of the pines, and across the country in the town of beaches and volleyball where the sun shines. My family is up here with me in the land we are both discovering, both digging through, as they chase after dreams that they have built all their own with the amazement that is themselves. My family is back in the apartment I spent the better half of my young adulthood and later college years, taking care of our fluffy family members and painting and building creations others cannot, just so others can enjoy their homes as much as I miss mine with you. Because you are my homes. You are my stars.
Where it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a city to grow one, it takes a civilization to nurture one in a group that similarly desires to affect change for all of us.
Yes I asked not for this visit, but I desired it more than I thought I had known before. I wanted it so much, I already missed it when I came to that bed and breakfast and was lucky to gaze upon both your beautiful blue and dark brown eyes.
Hopefully by now you've caught the metaphors. If not, I apologize for my exhaustion and longing for rest. For now, what my stars have reminded me of for years to come, is that we cannot fight these battles alone. And we shouldn't have to.
Yes, we may not always fight these battles alone. And more importantly, we shouldn't have to.
