My brother has headed up to Thomasville, Georgia where a direct forefather of ours is buried. General Vaughn, and yes, of course, a Confederate general and my brother is obsessed with history and spent a part of this trip in Virginia with a man who's written a book about the general. I think White is going to travel down south either today or tomorrow to visit Roseland where we share so many memories from childhood. And perhaps to Winter Haven to see our brother, Russell.
We talked last night and for once, we did not come to blows. It was hard, though. Very hard, and I feel myself unwrapped and undone and vulnerable.
It is impossible for us to reconcile our memories and our feelings about our mother, our family. They could not be more different if we were discussing two completely separate human beings, two completely separate existences. And I do very much understand that both of our versions of reality are completely honest and true.
But as I said, the reconciling of them is probably never going to happen.
And he resents deeply that I have presented my version of things to "the world" here. It angers him. And it angers me that it angers him.
Things just feel strange. My Japanese magnolia is blooming and that should not happen until January, at the earliest.
The Bradford pears are still barely showing color. It is warm and cloudless and the plane that flies back and forth over the interstate to catch speeders is droning above.
Some of my dearest friends in the world just stopped by and we drank coffee and chatted and that was wonderful. They live in Nashville and are here to visit family for Thanksgiving. The man part of the couple is the violinist we went to see the other night. He and my ex-husband have been friends since they were boys in strollers. We all went to the same high school. We have a lot of history and if there's anything better than knowing and loving people and maintaining relationships with them for years, I don't really know what it is. Karen, the wife, was with me when I had May and I was with her when she had her first child, Sarah. They kept getting texts that it was time to get back to the family because the ribs were ready and I kept saying, "Don't leave! Don't leave!" I could talk and laugh with them all day long. But I sure am grateful for the time we had today.
They know me as well as anyone.
And yet, they love me.
Can't ask for better than that. Their visit restored my soul and that's the truth.
And so it is quiet right now, even the droning plane has gone away.
Jessie texted that August rolled from his back to his tummy today. That child is so obviously a genius. I am fairly sure he will be walking next week, reading by Christmas.
Anyway, I am glad to be alone for this moment in the peaceful afternoon. The boys are going to come over tomorrow for awhile and it won't be peaceful then but it will be fun.
We go on, we go on. We sometimes find ourselves in the murky bottom of rivers we had no intention of falling into and there is nothing for it but to trust that light and air are indeed still above us and that we will slowly but surely make our way back up into it. Others are here to help us up and sometimes we don't even have to reach out, they simply wade in and there they are.
The simple miracles that happen all the damn time.
Over and over again.