Monday, January 19, 2009
SWB: Holding the loaf
My husband, Ian and I were talking last night about "Sleeping with Bread" and the context of holding on to a resource of comfort in the midst of darkness. We talked about how we've grown as people and some of our adventures together since we met in 1988 (really!). Sometimes I look back on all those years in wonder of all the life that we've lived, through both the complex and simple times.
The nostalgic mood we were in had something to do with the annual combined birthday lunch celebration of my Mother-in-law and I. We also watched some home movies at Janet's house on Sunday afternoon (that is what the blogged poem below is about.), and I was amazed at the effect the thirty-year-old home movies had upon my husband's family members.
Seeing the images of family members of the past allowed us to wonder, beginning to grasp the fact that we would not have been sitting here 30 years later on a Sunday afternoon, had it not been for them. How strange it is to consider how long it had been since we had thought to think of them or how they lived. What a treasure it was for the family to feel so grounded and connected as we watched the silent footage.
I felt included in the connection to a point, but it made me wish that I had old home movies of Grandpap, Grandma, and my very large collection of Aunts, Uncles and family that are a part of my side of the family. Sadly though, there isn't a great deal of connection or opportunity for Sunday afternoons like this with my relatives. We live far apart from each other in lots of different ways.
Distraction is the word I suppose that fits the "far apart" that I feel and experience on my side of the family. I won't choose to believe that it is intentional, purposeful or a conscience action. The far apart is just the way it is, and that fact is a desolation for me.
For the most part, I'm more aware of the connections and life that I do experience on Sunday afternoons with my family and rarely think on who I wish would also be there to join us. But moments like this sometimes bring who I miss abruptly and emotionally to the surface.
Image found at Fave Flicker Blog
My Sunday afternoon family gives me life. They are my consolation in so many ways. They are the bread that gives me strength, hope and love in both spoken and unspoken ways. I could choose to chase after shadows of who and what I wish to be a part of the present, but that only would distract me from the reality of the sunshine I'm bathed in every day.
We are not perfect, and sometimes we drive each other crazy, but I love that we love each other through the craziness. When I think about who is in my life, it's a little like watching home movies in the darkness. The darkness is there, but it is nothing compared to the beauty I see flickering before me.
So, I will hold onto my Sunday afternoon bread even when the shadows of "I wish" surface. Wishes can be mirages of hope, while bread is a hope I can really hold on to.
Drawing from APH Art