Dandelion Seeds In The Wind

I have been spending a little bit of my Quiet Time thinking about all of the people and places in my past, as a way of trying to honor those who came before me, those who loved me and drove me crazy and made me who I am.  I have continued - a year and change down the road - to tell my sponsor Kenner and my ma that I love them and I miss them, and now pop is on that list, too.  I have dropped my prayer for my father's peace of mind and spiritual contentment and acceptance of the woeful state of his balky body.  For obvious reasons.  

In my mind's eye these people look relaxed and content, beatific almost, smiling down at me.  I see them gathered around a round table having coffee and sweet rolls, in no rush to go anywhere, just pleasantly sitting there.  For some reason Kenner is calling my mother "Miz Seaweed."  I wouldn't put anything past that guy.  Sometimes I go back and pay homage to my grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles.  They all look pleased and robust, with a pinkish hue to their skin.  In my mind I walk through the old houses, climb stairs, poke around basements and garages, the memory of the smells, where the light switches are, how furniture is arranged, almost visceral.  In my family of modest means the furniture was solid and in place - it never moved, was never replaced.  There was no redecorating, no discarding.  When we were cleaning out dad's apartment my sister and I would both remember where an old end table sat, what wall a picture graced.

I was part of an email thread with some old high school friends discussing the respective scattering of our families.  There was some sense of regret over lost places and things and relationships.  But here we all sit - every single one of us - in distant and far-flung places.  There isn't much of a sense of place in America.  We are a restless people, on the move, looking elsewhere.  Some of the folks on the thread were so far removed that the connections were hard to remember.

It made me think of my nuclear family: all of my grandparents were raised on farms but all of them moved to the small town in their county.  I don't think any of them graduated from high school.  My father and aunt were the first college graduates and they moved to different cities in the same state.  My cousins and I scattered farther afield.  When I was back for the funeral I thought of the large families that each of my grandparents had - every one of them had many brothers and sisters.  The families have gotten smaller and have dispersed.

It kind of made me sad.