Today I finally decided to tackle the edit of a piece that put the issue of why this memoir mentions so little about my siblings' involvement with my Dad in his final months (years, actually) front and center. It's nothing unsavory, it's just that he wasn't an involved father and therefore he ended up with a lot of uninvolved kids. Why I was involved is probably more remarkable than why the rest of the kids weren't.
What surprises me though is how little of what happened at that time matters to me at this point.
This really IS the story of me and my father, not of my family. The truth is, there really isn't much of a story to my family. That used to be a source of angst for me, and sometimes outright anger. Now it's become as neutral a fact as my height, or the color of my eyes. It's just the way it went in my family. We are a consistent people. Likely the same can be said of you and yours, whatever that consistency may look like.
Of course, the edit took some work to separate the wheat from the chaff, and I did need to do some deep thinking on what I wanted to say about the family dynamic and why. Add to that, the rather meandering nature of the piece in front of me, and it was one of the more challenging edits of late. I had everything but the kitchen sink in here.
The nice thing is that while I was staring out the window trying to find a mental thread to weave all this together, I was reminded of how cool it is to have a window that alllows you to watch a gorgeous red fox trot across the street. Hope the ducklings are on their toes this morning. Someone is likely hoping for breakfast...
All the hodge podge stuff in the piece means I did actually end up with a cutting room floor piece for you, a scene from my backyard by the marsh:
I spotted a crayfish by the marsh. Actually, it spotted me first. I spied him when he thrust himself into full combat position, claws splayed out fearlessly overhead, legs extended to their fullest to increase both his height and his base of stability. He was ready. He was fierce.
He also stole my heart.
“Excellent! Come on then.” I grabbed a twig. “I’ll help you practice so you can be ready in case the grackles find you.”
And I meant it. I know he had to fight for his life out there every day and every night. I’ve seen what a couple grackles can do to a crayfish. I didn’t even consider the raccoons.
He seized the twig. He lunged. He snapped. He guarded his spot like a goalie in the Stanley Cup playoffs. If I had the ability to fashion some tiny hockey pucks I’d have had him work on that, too.
And with that, I must be off. I am finally using the Christmas gift certificate my husband gave me for a massage and facial today. So well timed. It's been three years since I've had a massage...many more since I've had a facial. So looking forward to this.
Of course, how long the massage effects last once the puck drops tonight...yow.
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