Being a family …
means you are part of something.
Ok, so it’s that time of year when we gather around our kinfolk and celebrate the holiday season. Our thoughts automatically turn to warm and friendly scenes with smiling folks, well behaved children, good food and song.
Thank you Norman Rockwell for making us all feel like incompetent misfits.
I saw this plaque in one of the gazillion catalogs I received and bust out laughing. Now maybe it’s me, but no where on this plaque does it say that the love you will give and receive will be in any way healthy, freeing, or endlessly supportive. It doesn’t mention that it will be unconditional. It doesn’t mention that it will be gentle.
Family love is it’s own “special” kind of something. It might be the kind of love that offers a younger recipient a glimpse into the illogical mind that justifies overbearing control as a selfless effort to provide a situation that may lead to anorexia so that the recipient can “finally lose those extra pounds, because you know you have such a pretty face, if only ….”
It might be the kind of love that tells you to be independent, and always be yourself, “just, well, not so much of it.”
It might be the kind of love that “just worries about you,” because the stories made up in the mind of the giver of love are so far fetched that the writers of Dexter passed up the story ideas.
Sure, the intentions are often well-founded, but, Lenny, from “Of Mice and Men” also had really good intentions with that puppy of his.
Yes, being a family definitely means you are a part of something wonderful. Full of wonder. So full, some times it takes professional assistance to untangle the wonder of it all. And it means you will love and be loved for the rest of your life. No matter what.
You cannot escape. Ever. Genetics ensure that.