Family

Sometimes, I fall right.
I was eight years old when my chair tipped over
And left me breathless for what felt like hours.
My cousin Robby picked me up off the ground,
Handed me a five-dollar bill and said,
“Not cause you fell…
Just cause you’re my favorite.”
I smiled for weeks despite the bruises.

Sometimes, I don’t fall right.
I was in middle school when my cousin Sam and I went looking for trouble.
We found it.
We stumbled through the front door on a Southern morning.
Two fourteen year olds,
Thinking that squeezing our eyes tight would make us invisible.
We found my Uncle sitting in a La-Z-Boy recliner,
Giggling to himself.
“Secret’s safe with me, your mom’s are out to lunch,” he laughed.
He was true to his word.
He always was.
I wished that just once he would punish us,
Just so I could know what his love felt like.
A year later our punishment came.
His suicide made us wonder if he ever loved anything.

Momma’s turning fifty-three this month.
That means she’s been a worrier for fifty-three years.
She can’t help it.
Too passionate, I suppose.
Too much heart.

My dad’s never been that way—he doesn’t worry.
He just dreams.
He’s a dreamer.
I wonder if when he’s eighty he’ll pull his head out of the clouds.
I know he won’t.
I love him for it.
I love him for so many reasons.

I can point to the days that I love him most.
There are a lot of those.

There are the days he covers for me when I’m an idiot.
These days are common.
He asks if I’ve learned my lesson.
If I say yes, he says he won’t tell mom.
I always say yes.
He never tells mom.

My favorite was the day he gave me a copy of his play,
Titled, “An American Family.”
He spent a year writing and editing it in his mind.
He spent a week pouring it down on paper.
Sometimes when looking at my father I have to look away.
I see too much of myself.

I remember my first day of rebellion.
It was Grandpa Lenny’s 80th birthday party at some swanky club.
Tom, Hill and I decided to go exploring.
Moronic.
And exhilarating.
We asked Lauren to come along but she was one too many champagne glasses down.
We knew this—
Because she was reciting Shakespeare, spread eagle on the pool table.
So, we did what any 19, 16, and 15 year old would do—
We took off for the basement through the storage staircase.
Clearly.
We stumbled around that old staircase,
Picking up “treasures” and fighting each other with them.
Nothing was off limits—
Brooms, old china sets, can-can costumes—
All fair game.
I fell over and over in fits of laughter.
We reached the bottom of the staircase in about an hour.
The door wouldn’t budge.
After minutes of Hillary and my struggles and Tommy’s jokes that would make any feminist cringe,
He decided to kick the door open.
This resulted in dozens of glass fish vases smashing to their untimely deaths.
Who says men are smarter?
Almost every guest saw the catastrophe spread out across the hallway,
And if they didn’t, they certainly heard it from the next room,
And likely came running to see what started the earthquake in Upstate New York.
We’d never seen Grandpa Lenny so pissed off and
We’ve never laughed so hard.

The story of Grandpa Lenny’s 80th birthday party is still a crowd pleaser at every Thanksgiving dinner.
The kicker is when we mention the forty guests that came up to us secretly
To thank us for saving them from taking home Grandpa Lenny’s party favor
Of 3 ft. tall rainbow fish vases.
You’re welcome.